The Golden Rendezvous by Alistair MacLean Read Free Book Online

"Remember the waiting list at the blue mail's offices?"
    "Indeed. We were pretty far down the list and what a list. Half the millionaires in central and south america. I suppose we may consider ourselves fortunate, mr. carter, in that we were the only ones able to accept at such short notice after the sudden departure of our predecessors in jamaica. But don't forget that to catch the boat we had to make a hurried four-hundred-mile dash from the capital to carracio by
    air and road. And what roads!" sefior carreras obviously didn't share the carracio agent's respectful terror of the revolutionary government.
    I wondered how a man of carreras' obviously aristocratic background had
    been able to retain his obvious wealth in the face of the forces of change that had overcome and completely wiped out the old order-and why,
    if money was so desperately short on the island, he was allowed to convert very large sums of it into dollars to pay for this cruise, or how and why he had been able to leave the island at all. But I kept my wonderings to myself. Instead I said, "you're still a long way off the record, sefior carreras. Last trip we had a family from santiago and two men from beirut, both of whom had flown to new york specially for the round voyage."
    "And they can't all be wrong, eh? don't worry, mr. carter, I intend to enjoy myself. Can you give us any idea of our itinerary?"
    "That's supposed to be one of the attractions, sir. No set itinerary. Our schedule largely depends on the availability and destination of cargoes. One thing certain, we're going to new york.
    Most of our passengers boarded there and passengers like to be returned
    to where they came from." he knew this anyway, knew that we had coffins
    consigned to new york. "We may stop off at nassau. Depends how the captain feels-the company gives him a lot of leeway in adjusting local schedules to suit the best needs of the passengers -and the weather reports. This is the hurricane season, mr. carreras, or pretty close to it. If the reports are bad captain Bullen will want all the sea room he can get and give nassau a byez." I smiled. "Among the other attractions of the s.s. campari is that we do not make our passengers seasick unless it is absolutely essential."
    "Considerate, very considerate," carreras murmured. He looked at me speculatively. "But we'll be making one or two calls on the east coast, I take it?"
    "No idea, sir. Normally, yes. Again it's up to the captain, and how the captain behaves depends on a certain dr. Slingsby caroline."
    "They haven't caught him yet," miss harrbride declared in her rough gravelly voice. She scowled with all the fierce patriotism of a first-generation american, looked round the table, and gave us all the impartial benefit of her scowl. "It's incredible, frankly incredible.
    I still don't believe it. A thirteenth-generation american!" I could imagine how unthinkably remote thirteen generations of american ancestors must be to miss hatrbride; she'd have traded her million-dollar cosmetic empire for even a couple of them. "I was reading all about him in the tribune two days ago. Did you know that the 5lingsbys came to the potomac in 1662, just five years after the washingtons. Three hundred years! imagine, american for three hundred years, and now a renegade! a traitor! thirteen generations!"
    "Don't take it too hard, miss harrbride," I said encouragingly.
    "When it comes to skipping with the family silver, dr. caroline just doesn't begin to be in the same class as my countrymen. The last englishman who deflected to the communist world had an ancestor in the doomsday book. Thirty solid generations. Yet he took off and lit out at the drop of a hat."
    "Faugh!" said miss harrbride. "We heard about this character."
    tony carreras, like his father, had had his education in some ivy league college; he was rather less formal in his attitude towards the english language. "Slingsby caroline, I mean. Makes very little sense to me.
    What's he