by Lou Cameron
The day they left, a seaman from a Swedish freighter was hanged from a lamppost—just for being blond.
They were able to cash their deposit slips at the bank in San José in a way. The Costa Rican teller working for the Bank of England didn’t argue about the paper, just the numbers written on it by the ever treacherous Sir Basil. He’d assured them and they’d assumed that the curly capital L’s in front of the numbers stood for British pounds. But there were L’s, and then there were L’s. The teller explained that the only way he could read them was as Honduran lempira L’s and, as they called him awful names, courteously inquired whether they wanted the face value in British or Costa Rican cash. They settled for Costa Rican. It made it look like more. It still wasn’t much. The Costa Rican colon was worth more than the Honduran lempira. Neither was even close to a buck.
But as Captain Gringo pointed out as they left the bank, they still had their lives as well as the other loose change picked up along the way. So they crossed the street to drink on it at a sidewalk cantina. They’d just settled down to enjoy their cerveza under the shade of the awning when Gaston spotted a short, gnomish figure coming up the walk and reached inside his jacket, muttering, “Sacré God damn, we cashed the old monster’s paper just in time. Regard the cheap species of bastard on his way to the bank!”
Sir Basil spotted them as well and, ignoring where Gaston had his hand, came over, bold as brass, to drag a seat from another table and sit down at theirs, uninvited. He said, “I’m so pleased to see that you chaps got out alive as well. Hispanics are so excitable. No doubt you’ve cashed those slips I gave you by now?”
Captain Gringo said, “We have, and the deal was two thousand U.S., not Honduran banana peels, you prick!”
Sir Basil laughed and said, “Temper, temper, I could have cheated you entirely, you know. I’ve been here in San José two days already—hanging around the bank, as a matter of fact, hoping you two would show up.”
“How come, if you didn’t want to beat us to the teller’s cage?”
Hakim snapped his fingers for the waiter and replied, “Wanted a chat with you. Still trying to learn what went wrong with my little game to the north. Terribly confusing business, eh what?”
The waiter came over, and Hakim ordered gin and tonics all around. Captain Gringo told him, “That’s the trouble with your deals, Hakim. You ought to just stick to tangled webs. You dope out so many dirty double crosses, even you can’t keep track of them.”
Hakim sighed and said, “My first business partner used to say that, just before he died under rather mysterious circumstances. I’m sure I have every reason to be cross with you chaps. But I’d rather know how you did it than have you assassinated, so …”
He saw that Gaston had the gun under the table now, trained on his crotch. So Hakim said, “Let’s not be hasty, old bean. Can’t you take a joke?”
Gaston said, “I do not find you at all amusing. So listen to me and listen with both ears, you très tedious as well as malicious sucker of camel cocks. By now, even you should have grasped the simple fact that killing even one of us would be très expensive as well as difficult. So I warn you, man to man, or whatever you are, that the next time I even suspect you of setting either of us up, I intend to track you down, tear off your arms and legs, make you swallow your own cock and balls, and shove your head up your ass. Then I’ll kill you.”
Captain Gringo nodded and said, “That goes for me too. Why don’t you take a hike, Hakim? Dealing with you has not been a pleasure.”
Sir Basil leaned back as the waiter put the three drinks he’d ordered on the tin table. The soldiers of fortune ignored theirs. Hakim sighed and said, “I don’t understand what you two are so angry about. I was the one who lost a fortune. But, as you see, I’m trying to be a good sport about it.”
Captain Gringo said, “Bullshit. You just want to know where you went wrong, for future reference.”
Sir Basil grinned sheepishly and said, “A good businessman learns from his mistakes. So tell me, Dick, was it you or Lopez who tipped Gonzalez off, and how could either of you have known my plan after all the fibs you were fed?”
“I’m not going to tell you. I don’t want you to profit from past mistakes. The world will be a better place if you go on making them.”
Hakim shrugged and reached in his jacket for a well-padded billfold, saying, “Very well, I’m willing to pay for vital information. How much?”
“You haven’t got that much money in your London bank vaults,” said Captain Gringo, adding, “We want you to sweat, you smug bastard. God knows you’ve made a lot of other people sweat in your time. You blew it, Hakim— twice. Your plans went sour in El Salvador, and when you tried in Honduras, you wound up with more egg on your face. You’re losing your grip, Hakim. How does it feel to be a loser for a change?”
Sir Basil began to look a little older and almost human as he grimaced and said, “Not very nice. My ruddy cock’s getting old, too, so one of the few pleasures left is power. Name your price, God damn you!”
Captain Gringo blew smoke in his face and said, “Okay, get me a presidential pardon for that bum rap back in the States. Get me my commission back and make then tear up my dishonorable discharge. Then see to it that the officers who framed me get what’s coming to them, and maybe we can talk.”
Hakim frowned thoughtfully and said, “I might be able to get that conviction set aside. Political favors are a specialty of mine.”
“What about the guys who framed me?”
“That would be another matter. High-ranking officers in any army tend to have political pull, too, you know.”
Captain Gringo smiled bitterly and said, “Boy, do I know. The pardon alone won’t cut it. I’d only wind up murdering the bastards and be on the run again. So what the hell. It’s been nice talking to you, Hakim. There’s a public school a block over. If you hurry, you can get there with your candy before the little kids get out for the day.”
“Look, just give me a hint at least?”
Captain Gringo said, “Okay. Maybe it will make you think next time. You started out playing sneaky and dirty. So you’ve busted your balls ever since trying to come up with even sneakier dirty tricks. You’ve lost your grip because you’ve lost sight of reality. You’ve begun to confuse sheer, pointless treachery with sharp business practices. You’re like a card shark so fascinated with cheating that you’ve lost track of the game you’re playing. You can’t win at poker, dealing three-card monte, no matter how you move your hands,”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand, old bean.”
“I know you don’t. Your head’s too full of slime to think straight. You didn’t pick the wrong side in El Salvador because you’re a hard-nosed trader. You picked it because, to you, wrong is beautiful. You didn’t fuck up in Honduras just now because something went wrong with your master plan. You concentrated more on fucking everyone than you did on planning. Your own publicity has warped your judgment. You’re a stinking-rich man, the head of an international cartel with friends in high places. But you glory so in being the Merchant of Death that you tear ass around in grubby little countries, setting up grubby little comic opera operations when, if you were half as smart as you want everyone to think you are, you could do things the more civilized way. We’re almost into the twentieth century, you asshole. The robber barons of this era already know that their day is done. Maybe you ought to join the Black Hand or possibly the Prussian General Staff. Nobody else I can think of does business your way anymore. The business of business is making money, not hurting people just for the hell of it.”
He got up and told Gaston, “Let’s go, it smells like the tide just went out around here, even if we are in the mountains.”
Gaston said, “Oui, I was about to remark on the odor.”
But Hakim sprang up to follow, insisting, “Look, Dick, I’ll admit that my methods may seem ruthless at times, but—”
“But you’re dumb, not ruthless,” Captain Gringo c
ut in. Hakim looked blank. So he explained, “Look, chump. Ever since we’ve known you, you’ve insisted on lying and screwing when you didn’t have to. Nobody else worth the money wants to work for you, either. You’ve got unlimited arms and almost unlimited cash to work with, but you insist on doing everything the complicated way. You wanted Honduras, you shit-for-brains? Hell, for a couple of million and a straight deal I could recruit a modest army and simply take Honduras for you.”
He nudged Gaston, and the two of them started walking faster. Hakim started falling back on his stubbier legs. But he called out, “Wait! If you meant that, I may have another proposition for you chaps!”
They swung a corner and left Hakim behind like a little tag-along who wasn’t allowed to go fishing with the bigger kids. Gaston laughed and said, “That must have given him food for thought. You were, of course, shitting his bull when you suggested that we could take a country that size by conquest, non?”
Captain Gringo frowned judiciously and said, “Oh, I don’t know. A couple of old pros like us could probably do it. But Gonzales is a good guy, and Hakim’s not nice enough to call a bad guy, so what the hell. I wonder if those two sisters over by the cathedral still like us. Somehow I’m not in the mood for a war just now.”
Gaston chuckled and replied, “Neither am I. Mais invasion sounds like fun.”
About the Author
Lou Cameron
(June 20, 1924 - November 25, 2010)
Was an American novelist and a comic book creator. The film to book adaptations he wrote include None But the Brave starring Frank Sinatra, California Split, Sky Riders starring James Coburn, Hannibal Brooks starring Oliver Reed and an epic volume based on a number of scripts for the award winning CBS miniseries How the West Was Won (not to be confused with the novelization by Louis L’Amour).
Between 1979 and 1986, using the pseudonym “Ramsay Thorne”, Lou Cameron wrote 36 Renegade adult western novels featuring as protagonist Richard Walker, better known as “Captain Gringo”.
He has received awards such as the Golden Spur for his Western writings. He wrote an estimated 300 novels.
More on Lou Cameron
The Renegade Series by Lou Cameron, Writing as Ramsay Thorne
Renegade
Blood Runner
The Fear Merchant
Death Hunter
Macumba Killer
Panama Gunner
Death in High Places
Over the Andes to Hell
Hell Raider
The Great Game
Citadel of Death
The Badlands Brigade
The Mahogany Pirates
Harvest of Death
Terror Trail
Mexican Marauder
Slaughter in Sinaloa
Cavern of Doom
Hellfire in Honduras
Shots at Sunrise
River of Revenge
Payoff in Panama
Volcano of Violence
Guatemala Gunman
High Seas Showdown
Blood on the Border
Savage Safari
The Slave Raiders
Peril in Progreso
Mayhem at Mission Bay
Shootout in Segovia
Death Over Darien
Costa Rican Carnage
The Golden Express
Standoff in the Sky
… And more to come every month!
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