Xakatan I

Tony Amca

Description

A well educated social drop out, Pedro Bolivar became a lone fisherman who lived on a coastal shack near Recife (Brazil). Befriended by the Akazi (a small Indio tribe relocated from Amazonia to the same peninsula), he soon gained the attentions of two of their young Indio girls (Deedee and Ara). Life however was not done with Pedro and through a chance encounter, he finds himself involved in a treasure hunt that turns out to be something considerably different, but which none-the-less propels him to the very top of the world of finance, Secret Societies, Wall Street and mega deals...

Informations

• Publié par: Book Printing UK
• Date de parution: 26 février 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781906352059
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

I
XAK A TAN



XAKATAN I
Copyright © Tony AMCA/the Caldeira Family 2018 All Rights Reserved
The rights of Tony AMCA/the Caldeira Family to be identified as the author of this work have been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part may be reproduced, adapted, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.
Spiderwize
Remus House
Coltsfoot Drive
Woodston
Peterborough
PE2 9BF
www.spiderwize.com
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
The views expressed in this work do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
All characters in this publication are fictitious, events described and any part of dialogue must not be considered factual or of historical value.
Copy Edited by Christina Willis 2017
Designed by Camilla Davis
ISBN: 978-1-906352-05-9


I
XAK A TAN
(SCHAKHATAAN)


TONY AMCA


I
2015 SOUTH OF RECIFE, ALONG THE BRAZIL IAN COAST.
Somewhat timidly at first, the wavelets of high tide smoothly rippled over the dry sand, like freshly poured lemonade, looking for the jungle beyond the virgin bay. An early mid-summer mist lingered above the greenery and partly hidden among the frontline of trees, the wooden shack of Pedro Bolivar stood like the brain-child of some shipwrecke d mariner.
Halfway from the ocean, a small rowing boat had been turned upside down for safety, and a trail of clothes led to the wooden dwelling; where to the beat of breaking waves, Pedro’s loud snoring confirmed this to be the morning after a heavy night of Cachaça drinking!
To one side of Pedro’s home, past a wall of dried fish, two young Indio girls emerged from the jungle and walked bare-chested towards his shack, giggling to each other as they collected the clothes he had discarded on his w ay to bed.
“Do you think we’ll find him naked Deedee?” giggled the younger of the two covering her mouth, unable to hide her excitement as t hey went.
“I hope so Ara… It’s about time we discovered what he keeps hiding so zealously…,” added the other with amused ant icipation.
“It’s probably such a small thing that he feels so shy about it…?” reasoned the first one, also a little aroused by her thoughts.
The shack was built on a wooden platform and the girls went silent the moment they stepped onto the planks leading to the door left ajar, with Deedee claiming the right to have the fi rst peep!
“Is he naked?” Ara whispered impatiently after a while, feeling that Deedee was taking too long.
“Yes, but he’s got his back turned to us… He’s got a hairy bottom…” She commented, doing her best not to laugh.
“OK, let me have a look then…” Ara insisted, ready to grab Deedee’s vantage point, only to be panic stricken soon after… “Oh my God, he’s going to turn around…” She almost shouted back to Deedee, whose head suddenly found its way back inside the door!
“Deedee…?” The middle - aged loner enquired as he tried to tu rn around.
“Are you OK Pedro?” Deedee replied already back outside, pretending to have just arrived “Ara and I have been picking up your clothes from all around the bay… What happened?”
“I don’t know I’m not too sure… I had too much to drink last night and I don’t feel too good…”
“Are we OK to come in?”
“Not yet… Give me a moment to get dressed?”
Their muddy make-ups and haircuts that could rival Robin Hood’s Friar Tuck aside, the two young women were unquestionably feminine; with pretty faces, almond eyes, perfect smiles and sculptural bodies yet to be marked by motherhood. They both stood at around 5.6 ft. tall. Ara was fractionally the shorter of the two and neither looked a da y over 16.
Both girls belonged to one of a dozen families that made up a small tribe called the Akazi, whose camp was about three miles further in land. They were Pedro’s most regular visitors and somehow looked after him, in as far as keeping his home clean; his clothes washed and sometimes even cooking him the odd meal. In return, Pedro was a bit like the tribe’s link to the outside world, often bringing them a variety of supplies each time he returned from selling boxes of his dried fish in the white man’s village (Pitimbu), some 30 miles down the coast.
Pedro however was a bit of a recluse, with something of a dark past. Some fifteen years earlier, as a small shopkeeper in São Paulo, he had lost his wife and three children in a fire, for refusing to pay “protection” to a local Mafia gang. Blinded by grief and disenchantment with mankind and the modern world, he soon got his revenge on those responsible, but found himself on the run going north, where he obtained a Provincial Land Concession to use the remote bay as his home.
“How long have you both been standing there?” Pedro enquired suspiciously as he fastened his tro user belt.
“We just got here when you woke up…,” repli ed Deedee.
“We didn’t even see you naked or anything like that…,” confi rmed Ara!!
“I see…,” returned the old veteran, amused by the girls’ innocence. “You can both com e in now”.
“Did you drink everything missing in this bottle last night?” Deedee censured him, producing an empty 2 litre bottle of home-made Cachaça from behind her back, as if it were a court-roo m exhibit.
“Oh yes… there it is…” Pedro attempted some justification that n ever came.
“Why do you do these things to yourself?” Deedee was insistent and motherly in her reproach, but before Pedro could manage a reply, he had to release a loud fart he could no longer hold, causing the two girls to descend into a fit o f giggles.
“Sorry about that…” He looked apologetically at Deedee, as she fought to return to her serious stance, “…there are times when the past creeps into my mind and just seems to stay there… and a good measure of Cachaça often helps to chase those thoughts away…” He eventually justified his behaviour.
“You could come to us when that happens… You know that…” Deedee reassured him, softening her tone, “…Even our tribal Elders offered you their blessing, should you want to keep us…!”
“You’re both too young and deserve younger men; we’ve been through thi s before…”
“That was a couple of years ago,…” Countered Deedee “The Elders will soon start wondering if you’d rather have one or two boys to keep you regular company instead…,” s he teased.
“What’s wrong with me being by myself?” Pedro complained, desperately trying to keep another loud explosion in, but none-the-less amused by the Elders’ concerns. “You guys really picked the wrong day to pass by…” He said changing the subject while holding his stomach. “I need to sober up…”
“Shall we come by tomorrow and cook you a meal?” Suggested Deedee letting out a sigh, realising he really needed to be b y himself.
“That sounds wonderful…” Pedro tried to be positive as he stood up. “Take some dried fish for the tribe as you go?” He proposed, looking for a carrier bag to give them.
“We’ll take them some tomorrow instead?” Deedee decided it was time to go, rather than prolonging his agony.
“It’s a deal…”
And no sooner had they left, he took off his clothes to enter the Ocean.
*
Pedro felt revitalised by the time he returned to the shack and after an outside shower, thanks to the power from the single solar panel, he switched on the transistor radio to hear the World news, while making himself a pot of coffee.
“ The stupid leading the stupid…!!! ” He expressed his thoughts out loud to the ne ws reader!
Thinking back to the morning, he was shocked to realise how fast time had passed since he had settled on the bay; especially when Deedee reminded him that two years had elapsed since he considered her to be too young … The truth was that although not insensitive to her beauty (or Ara’s for that matter), in his eyes he still saw them as they were two years earlier!
The girls were most probably still virgins and the last thing Pedro wanted was to open a new Pandora’s Box for the hell of it! His sex life was well sorted out. On his monthly trips to Pitimbu to sell his dried fish stock, he would always visit the local Brothel to spend an hour or so with Madalena, by now his regular, before retur ning home.
By nightfall however, the sounds of nature were suddenly silenced by those of an approaching Police patrol boat enterin g the bay.
“PEDRO BOLIVAR…!” An authoritarian voice boomed from a loud speaker when the boat came to a stop just short of the sand. “THIS IS THE POLICE…,” continued the voice, backed by a strong searchlight firmly pinned onto the shack. “WALK TO