A band of rebels working their way along the coast in a freighter to Mexico to smuggle gold back to Canada.
A truly international suspense thriller involving a rag tag team of Gold smugglers trying to get a shipment from Mexico to Canada in the year 1969. A life and death adventure with unusual love twists, and the excitement of the always unpredictable and dangerous Pacific ocean.
Fasten your seat belts for a wonderfully creative journey into the adventures of a teenage boy venturing into an adult illegal plan to smuggle contraband gold from one country to another. Captain WesPerish tells the long ago story to an audience of two and counting at an upscale resort in Palm Springs, California in the present summer of the year 2041.
Excerpt
The year was 2041, A very crowded and very busy place in Palm Springs, California. A very old looking man is sitting at a table by a very crowded swimming pool in a very posh five star resort, mid morning on a Friday. The weather is typical here for mid January, warm and sunny, that's why many Canadian Snow Birds come here, not to mention many US Citizens from up North and other places from around the world.
A younger man is walking around aimlessly looking for a place to sit and drink his fancy colourful drink with the sliced fruit and umbrella falling to one side of the glass. He spots the only available seat at a table where a very old man sits by himself. He stands there looking around not making eye contact with the old man, he would prefer to sit somewhere else....there are no other seats available...it was more than obvious this man did not want to sit with the old guy. As he continued to look about...the ensuing conversation between the old man and the somewhat lost younger man was initiated, and the unbelievable story was about to unfold.
"Please son, have a seat...where you from?"
The old man gestures to the only empty seat as he looks up to the young man standing there with his girly drink in hand. Captain Wes Perish, was at one point in time a tall and muscular man, his face was now weathered, wrinkled, as like that of his hands, and he was just plain very old looking. He still had all of his hair and needed no eye glasses.
However he did on occasion wear expensive sunglasses. He was told they were expensive by the fellow that sold them to him on a beach in Hawaii, just like the authentic Rolex for $50 he was wearing on his left wrist. He sat with the regular touristy looking dress of tacky shorts, tacky open collared flowery shirt, with a couple of heavy gold necklace’s drooped around his grey haired chest, and a tacky hat perched beside his beer on the table. He even wore the taboo socks with sandals..he was old, he did not care.
He did however like his beer and an occasional cigar which he at this point is puffing on the last remnants of an expensive Cuban. The one thing he would spend gangster money on. The Captain now spends most of his time lounging around at pool side of high-end expensive resorts around the World taking advantage of the good weather where ever it may be, depending on the time of year, and possibly the receptive ear of a stranger to listen to his story. The Capt. is in his eighties, a widower and now alone, with a long list of health problems.
That would explain the puffer and bottle of prescription pills resting next to the ashtray his cigar was nestled in. His mental recall however, was working fine, better than most people twenty years his junior, he snubs out the end of the smelly Cuban in the ashtray sitting beside two empty bottles of expensive import beer and a third half full in his right hand, the tacky hat, puffer, and pills.
"I'm from Canada."
The young man says as he adjusts his chair then takes a drink from his fancy colourful cocktail he has brought with him.
"Where are you from?"
He continues, not so much out of curiosity, but just to be polite and keep the old guy happy.
"Me? I'm also from Canada. Vancouver, on the west coast, The name's Captain Wes. Where about's in Canada you from son?"
The young man nods as he takes another drink from the straw that rises from the colourful cocktail.
"Winnipeg."
He replies nearly coughing up the mouthful he had taken through the straw, now taking yet another drink from his fancy glass.
"Your name son?"
The Captain asks as though he is interrogating the man. The young man answers quickly hoping that the barrage of questioning will stop so he can relax and enjoy the warmth of the sun uninterrupted.
"Tony...Tony Wilson Sir."
He figured he should include the Sir and maybe throw the old man off track. Tony is a man in his thirties dressed not too dissimilar to that of the Capt. Tacky Hawaii shirt with cheap flowered long shorts and a straw, wide brimmed hat and gobs of white pasty sun screen smeared in places where his white skin was exposed to the hot rays. At least he did not wear socks with his cheap plastic flip-flops and he was obviously out of place here at a very expensive resort in Palm Springs.
The Captain was a good judge of people and figured Tony to be a newly married man trying to snag a few moments alone for himself to figure out whether he had made the right decision in marrying his wife who he continually looks around the pool side for.
The Capt. takes another drink from his beer. Capt. Wes then starts in with his story. Tony settles in for what he thinks will be a long winded and uneventful life story from some old fart who desperately seeks an audience...and some desperately needed company, he squirmed in his chair to find just the right position for the obvious long and drawn out boring life story of an old and lonely Alzheimer inflicted man.
It was something he knew most old people to do if given the chance, it was something they loved to do because all of their family and friends were gone. This they liked along with watching the weather channel, soup, and a good regular shit every day, he could not be further from the truth in this particular instance.
Captain Wes takes another drink of his beer, adjusts his chair, then starts in with his story.
"1969 The World was in a constant state of change. Vancouver, a growing city with plenty of potential. It was, and still is one of the most important harbour cities in the World. Container ships, oil tankers, even the odd cruise ship would make Vancouver their home for brief periods of time.”
“It was one of those Cosmopolitan cities, for the most part, clean and very picturesque with the North Shore mountains framing the city in front, the wonderful Lions Gate bridge connecting the glorious Stanley Park to the North Shore. English bay with its high rise apartments bordering it, China town of course, and one could almost smell the newness of better times to come."
"The Vietnam war was at the forefront of every newspaper, television, radio broadcast story, America, and the World for that matter, was entwined in this now deadly and new kind of battle that would forever change the structure of warfare and the politics that created it.”
“Vietnam was probably the worst war ever devised by mankind simply for the fact that it had been a war designed to test new and upcoming weaponry, and to see how well those in power could manipulate the public through the use of the media. It had changed the World forever, and not at all in the right direction."
"I was a Canadian, and 15 years of age at the time. I was too young to fight in the war, and in Canada it was not mandatory to enlist. Not that I would have, I was on the streets of Vancouver, pan handling and doing whatever it took to survive the little war I had created for myself. I was also very much into experimenting with drugs...who wasn't back then. With all the great music, the new sexual freedom's, the care free attitudes and now the ability to have ones voice heard, it was great, and greater if you were stoned."
He lets out a bit of a laugh then continues.
"Life seemed all too simple back then, and no one I knew then had the paranoia and stress that so many have now. Then, we just lived day to day, sometimes hour to hour. I miss those days."
"Vancouver was a great place, it had everything, including all four seasons, it felt safe and had character. So many interesting people, especially the ones I had travelled with to Vancouver from up North. To live on the streets in the spring and summer at that time was great, I mostly slept in cars, hardly anyone locked cars back then.”
“Sometimes I was lucky enough to grab a section of floor in a run down apartment with far too many other people living there. Because I was the youngest, there was a pecking order when it came to a place to sleep, food to eat, and drugs to use, very much like nature herself.”
“During the day I would Pan Handle for loose change the people that were walking around town had, so I could buy a little food, a cup of coffee, or some drugs. It was never very much, but enough for the wants of a young teenager living a carefree life in Vancouver."
"I was buddies with this guy who was great at stealing whole roasted chickens from a rotisserie in a hot oven. He performed this feat at a local eatery where we often went for a coffee, I don't know how he did it, and It is something I would not have done on my own, but I was thankful for the meal it provided us. He would walk into the store when it was busy, have me stand by the open doorway to make sure it was clear for his getaway.”
“Carefully, ever so carefully, he worked the whole chicken off the skewer it was impaled upon, that I knew to be hotter than hell, then work it off into a paper bag he had brought with him, carefully close the glass door that it had been behind, then tucked the bag with the whole roasted chicken in it behind his jacket and we were off and running. Usually in the direction of the beach where we could enjoy a leisurely lunch, if I had done my job right I would have spent the twenty or thirty cents to get us a couple of cokes."
"It was a decade where drugs were starting to become big in BC, and there were plenty of opportunities for up and coming drug dealers. Cocaine had just started its illegal climb up from South America through the States and into Canadian cities, Vancouver being the first. It was never hard to find anything a druggy wanted, or needed. I mostly at that time stuck with the weed and hash, on a rare occasion maybe some LSD.”
“I would not go near the junk, that could really screw you up, and cocaine was the new drug on the street, if you could find it. Some I knew were venturing in the direction of drug dealing, a new and upcoming profession, someone who could get and sell the drugs, if they were to abstain from using the product themselves, could make a very good living."
"I was truly care free and had no worries in the World. Until the World decided to deliver some to me on a gold platter. And I emphasize the word Gold. I had come to Vancouver with five of my friends I had made in Alberta. I had been there trying to find a job in the middle of winter, in a small town up North of Edmonton. For a fifteen year old it certainly wasn't the best of choices. One of the people I became friends with was much older than the rest of us, Paul...Paul Hammond.”
“I would say he was about thirty years of age or so at that time, and became a trusted friend of mine. Why he would even consider taking a fifteen year old under his wing was beyond me, but he did become a friend, and looked after me so I would not get into too much trouble, for the most part he managed to do so, may his sole rest in peace."
Capt Wes makes an obligatory rise of his head towards the sky, then takes a swig of beer.
"The seasons were moving on and summer was just around the corner. Paul, who was slightly overweight and balding on top was a quiet guy but very meticulous and always had this secretive side to him, mysterious. He had trained in the Canadian military when he was younger and then became a real estate broker.”
“Paul always dressed smart and was always very well groomed. His short cropped goatee was always trimmed, he must have spent awhile on it every day. He was always busy, and never seemed for want to hang out with any of the rest of us too much. He always had other things to do it seemed. He appeared to be a very busy and secretive man."
"One day Paul asked if I wanted to go along with him to a meeting he had set up with some guy downtown. I said why not, I didn't have much else to do that day, as if I had anything planned for any day, and besides, Paul was the one that always gave me the drugs. How was I to say no. We got to this old run down high rise in the east end. High rise back then, maybe ten stories.”
“I followed Paul up to the ninth floor and entered into a regular apartment sparsely decorated with out dated furniture, an older model console TV in the corner with some weird show in black and white fuzzily forcing its way across the screen. The heavy green curtains were pulled together so the only daylight was a slim beam working its way through where they joined in the middle.”
“There was clutter everywhere, and a standard amount of unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink for a single man. At the back of the main living area stood an ominous figure, a man about the same age as Paul and sported a somewhat long dark beard. He was hunched over just slightly and had a more than round beer belly hanging off the front of him. Paul approached him and they shook hands then Paul introduced him to me as Captain, then introduced me, Wes, to him, we shook hands. I wondered, captain of what? I was soon to find out."
"Paul and the Captain: I never did find out his real name, not even to this day; talked at length about mostly stuff I didn't understand, or even care about, but when I heard the word gold repeated several times, my ears perked up. What is it about Gold that gets everyone so excited?”
“The conversation was getting very involved now and I was getting very intrigued. I was mostly wondering why I was even here, did Paul not know that I was just a kid, and what they were talking about sounded like something out of a spy movie. Plenty of things I should not know about, things that were definitely not legal, I listened and absorbed everything. It was easy to do, I was stoned."
"If I had got the story right, Paul, a few of his friends, and the Captain here, were about to embark on an adventure of a lifetime. There was a pause in their conversation and they both turned to me where I was seated at the old and falling to pieces kitchen table. Paul turned and quietly spoke to me as I listened intently.”
“He asked me if I wanted to come along, with them, be a part of the group, the group that was to go to Mexico by cargo ship and pick up some contraband gold bars and bring it back to Canada. I then looked at Paul and the Captain with a blank expression on my face trying to absorb what Paul had just said to me. He kept talking, I heard nothing but a few words in amongst mostly a jumble, I did hear Gold quite a few times, and that if it all went to plan, I could be a millionaire when I got back to Canada at the ripe old age of sixteen."
"This sounded too weird to be real, and I was only stoned on weed, none of the heavy shit yet. I looked at Paul, I must have stared at him for more than a minute before Paul spoke again. "Wes, listen up will you, we need someone young and energetic that picks up on things quickly, someone we can trust, someone to help keep an eye out on board the ship, it's gotta be better than sittin around here stoned all the time, Right?" I looked him straight in the eye and in a feeble kind of voice replied, "I guess so." With those three life changing words it was the start of something bigger than I could have ever imagined. Our conversation went on into the wee hours of the night with the Captain right there with us. I could however have enjoyed some food, I was very hungry, there had been no chicken that day."
"After the pizza arrived about an hour later and we had managed to satisfy our hunger, I must have eaten half the thing myself, both men did not seem to mind, especially Paul, he understood my cash flow problem. Paul started to get into details about what it was we were really going to be involved in.”
“He did not lie to me, we had developed over the months a real friendship, I trusted him, I would have to, if I went along, my life would be on the line. He told me it would be dangerous, very dangerous, and against the law, many laws, as we would involve three large and powerful countries. Mexico, The USA, and Canada. It would involve the use of weapons and dealing with an assortment of unsavoury characters. I think he was trying to scare me, to find out if I had what it took. I wasn't scared, I never was.”
“What fifteen year old boy wouldn't want this kind of adventure? I was in, and I had to keep my mouth shut and say only what I was supposed to say, and to only the right people if I was to get through this fantastic adventure in one piece. All in all it would take about two months to complete Paul continued, I would be sixteen when we returned back to Vancouver sometime in the fall, a millionaire. If we returned at all."
"The next morning back at the apartment Paul had rented for the few of us that came down from Alberta, he arrived and came in to set his eyes on a real mess, the bunch of us had decided to party a bit the night before and there were bottles, cigarette packages, dirty glasses, chip bags and the such strewn about, and of course all of us laying about in different states of feeling shitty. Paul had told me under no uncertain terms that I should talk with anyone about what had been discussed the night before, I had kept my word, it just didn't look that way."
"When I realized that the events of the past day and evening were actually true and about to get even more involved I shaped up and became considerably more coherent. I was still not exactly sure as to what it was we were about to get involved in. All I knew was that if it worked, we would all walk away with a shit load of cash, and that sounded good enough for me."
"Paul had arrived about ten AM. He did not stay with the rest of us, he had his own apartment somewhere up town, I was visualizing somewhat cleaner. Over coffee, after he had rustled us all together around the living room coffee table, he started to discuss the plan ahead in much more detail than the night before when I was present with him and the Captain.”
“The final group of people that would take part in this fantastic adventure included, Of course Paul, he was the main guy, the boss, the planner. Then of course the Captain and his job was obvious, I simplified it and just pictured the Captain steering the ship."
"Dan Rae, my best buddy the chicken stealer, he was similar to me but obviously older. He was intense and tended to ramble on after a topic had been thoroughly discussed. He was a hard worker though and my best friend. Doug Ferris, a strait up guy who was great with engines, and tools and the like. He must have been in his twenties with dark short hair, clean shaven and hands that were as beat up as any mechanic twice his age.”
“He had training in school to be a heavy duty mechanic. He would be our head mechanic on board the ship as he knew everything there was to know about big diesel engines on ships and the like. Doug was of medium height with broad shoulders, and a moustache. He had a dry sense of humour, but non the less he had one."
"Stewart Clinton, a kind of book guy, always reading. He would be in charge of technical stuff and logistical stuff, pretty much handling all of the tedious work for every aspect of the plan. He was thin as a rail, wore glasses and had long straggly blonde hair.”
“He drank way too much coffee, and did not talk all that much, but loved to play the guitar, which I did as well, we had something in common. Then there was Linda Freemont and Alison Macky who I just assumed would be cooking and cleaning for us. Boy! Was I ever wrong about that. Linda was a great looking girl in her early twenties with a great sense of humour and pulled her weight as much as any of the guys would.”
“Alison, spoke fluent Spanish and would be our liaison person when we met up with the Mexican side of the team. Linda also could speak Spanish. She had short blonde hair, about 5'9" and built like a brick shit house. No one was going to mess with her. Then there was me, all of fifteen and tall and thin with long blonde hair and glasses, my skills? Yet to be determined. Oh, and the cook..I'll get to him later on."
Undercover Reunion, a novel of romance and adventure for Baby Boomers,fans of “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” and anyone who has ever attended their high school reunion!
