The San Carador Caper

By Raymond Williams

ONE MANS FIGHT AGAINST THE ODDS TO FIND AND HELP A FRIEND IN A
COUNTRY ON THE BRINK OF CIVIL WAR, RUN BY A RUTHLESS DICTATOR.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Mar 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781499094169

Raymond Williams

An academic, and the writer of both non-fiction and fiction, Raymond Williams (1921–88) was one of the most important and influential British thinkers of the twentieth century. Williams wrote about politics, culture, mass media and literature, and his work was key to the development of cultural studies. His best-known books include ‘Culture and Society’, ‘The Long Revolution’ and ‘The Country and the City’.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The twin prop charter plane cruised above the steaming jungle below.

Ahead rose the twin peaks of the azul mountains.

Captain alvarez pulled back the stick and aimed for the gap.

Switching on the intercom, he warned the passengers to fasten their seat belts.

Jack Hansen adjusted his belt and glanced at the other passengers.

Two nuns sat on his right, behind them a fat business man in a crumpled white suit and panama hat, sat sweating profusely.

A young couple with two noisy children were busy arguing with each other.

At the rear, two hatchet faced men stared stonily back at him.

Hansen faced the front again.

The two men were probably secret police and the last he wanted was to arouse suspicion.

A feeling of apprehension gripped him, and for a moment he felt uneasy about this trip.

An ex viet nam vet, three years in the N.Y.P.D. now a private investigator, why should he feel this way?

It all started back in his new york office.

He had done several jobs for dan slade, a political columnist on the ‘echo’, but now slade had disappeared down in san carador and his wife janet had turned to him for help.

The foreign office had refused to comment, and his only contact in the c.i.a. had advised him not to get involved.

To hell with that, he had thought.

Dan had been good for business, and besides, he had a soft spot for janet since high school.

The plane passed through the gap and down below, the airport lay to the left of the sprawl of san carador, and to the right the pacific ocean surfed on the white sands.

Jack knew he was taking a risk coming here, and could he carry off the business man on vacation routine?

His papers were in order, but how thorough were the authorities?

The plane banked steeply then levelled out for a perfect touchdown.

A mini-bus drove out to the plane and two armed men in drab olive green uniforms shepherded the passengers into the bus and drove to the customs shed.

In the shed the aduanero was waiting with another two armed guards.

Señors y señoras ver su pasa portes por favour.

The passports were carefully scrutinized by the aduanero then passed to the two hatchet faced men.

A baggage handler arrived with the suitcases on a trolley and these were meticulously searched.

On completion of this operation, one of the sinister duo approached jack.

You are señor hansen si?

Jack replied in his cultivated spanish.

Si, mi nombre es jack hansen, aqui de vaccaciones.

The man handed jack his passport, and gazed with expressionless face into his eyes.

Enjoy your vacation señor, and be very careful in san carador.

In his time, jack had met a variety of obnoxious characters, but this guy was a real slimeball.

Carrying his grip hansen hurried out to the parada del taxi, followed by the sweating business man with a heavy suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other.

Hey mr hansen, he called, can I share your taxi, i’m not very good at the damn lingo.

Jack stopped and turned round.

What hotel have you got pal?

The el gordo in the plaza pacifico.

You’re in luck then pal, thats where i’m going.

In the taxi the perspiring man held out a sweaty palm.

Thanks hansen i’m johnson, harvey johnson and i’m into antiques or anything else that makes money.

Jack grinned, i can think of better places to shop.

I think you’re right mr hansen, but the best bargains are found in these far flung places.

The taxi cruised up the ‘calle san pedro’ into the plaza pacifico, and stopped outside the ‘el-gordo’ hotel.

Johnson insisted on paying the fare, while jack looked around the plaza.

Right opposite the hotel was the local commisaria, where a motor cycle cop was talking to