by  Gianfranco Menghini

One marlin for two


Andrea, an enterprising young Milanese, at the suggestion from a friend Venezuelan occasional visit to his city, is persuaded to move to Caracas, and beyond, it means quite casual, make fortune thanks to the complicity of a fiery lover. He knows at a party and immediately falls in love with Cecilia Cortés, daughter of a wealthy banker tied closely to the government.But now, involved in the whirlwind tour of little legitimate business, which holds the strings of his mistress, Victoria Varela, wife of a prominent financier very old friend of the President, is sent to New York to negotiate the sale of a large building in the heart the Venezuelan capital, and as it happens, the deal takes place with an engineer, department manager property acquisitions of an oil company, the most corrupt him, for that thing asks him a substantial bribe that will be used to retire to Belize, in ‘island of Ambergris Caye where his girlfriend is waiting for him and the project during the construction of a magnificent villa by the sea. However, we bring you to the middle many stakes that complicate life. First jealousy of his mistress, who discovers that, Andrea, thanks to the gain millionaire of the transaction, no longer wants to be part of society, even the melting, to dedicate himself to a lawful activity. By chance, thanks to a fortunate caught offshore in the company of an elderly American man, fond of marlin fishing, befriends, and ‘a great man and very wealthy, now on the threshold of the seventies and will protect it when it discovered the body former lover of Andrea. Which, out of the way of authorities from Venezuela, you will return with his friend, who will help him discover the actual murderess. Many things will become apparent, as well as the real extent of the figure of Cecilia Cortes and that of Fernanda, a beautiful Venezuelan, owner of a fabulous restaurant.Between love, sex, rivers of money and a murder mystery, the story will end with a bitter surprise.

Read an excerpt from the book


The deafening roar of the engine’s reverse of the Jumbo Alitalia was at its peak when Andrea saw the rushing image of the airport of Maiquetia, with the parade of the parked aircraft. After a long taxiing, the plane stopped in the parking area and the young man, ready with the hand luggage, launched himself on the footbridge to get more quickly to the baggage hall, not to withdraw them as first – it should take at least twenty minutes before the luggage appeared on the conveyor belt – but to see if Miguel was waiting for him at the exit. He saw him waving from an opening that the border police kept it well watched. From that moment, everything should be up to him. He had assured him that there should be no problems on his arrival in Caracas. He rented for the Italian friend a comfortable apartment, located in the massive Tower on the Avenida de Mexico, among the Anauco Residence and the Hilton Hotel, in the center of the Venezuelan Capital. They should see together what possibilities expected for his future in Venezuela. The country lent itself to the inclusion of new elements within the ruling class, yet in complete transformation. There needed enterprising and capable persons. Who then, like Andrea, had also an initial money capital, stayed in himself in advantage: It wisely, he could earn a fortune.
For that reason, Andrea stayed in Venezuela. He had relied on the adhesions that Miguel enjoyed in the most influential circles around the city, especially in the police and the army, thanks to his father’s position, a high-ranking executive at a US oil company. In a country like that one, it was easy to count on friends in the civil and military administration. It was enough to oil the wheels of the government, so he had said. With some bonus, given the economic conditions certainly not excellent of some staff members, he should enjoy of necessary privileges. Such that one to move freely in some private circles where could easily happen to him to sniff out a bargain. The salaries of employees of the state administration were obviously not princely, and indeed it were not enough to run a family who had special necessities, so some civil officials and officers of the Police and Army will do the best they could. The essential thing to live well was for everyone. The cost of living was quite modest, that one of the foods and rentals then, almost ridiculous. The gasoline, compared to Europe, cost tiny. However, the needs of individual characters, which would solve that making their appearance in all the frequent social events, were very different. Especially if they had a large family to maintain and those less fortunate, even a young and ambitious wife who did mind a good impression, wearing fashionable clothes and glitzy jewelry. Not to mention the requirement to own a car that could only be American, at the edge of the prohibitive cost.
With support like that and an adequate capital in dollars, all the doors of the ‘good society’ should be wide open to him, with the possibility to operate more than less cumbersome circumventing regulations that should prevent anyone, especially if a foreigner, to start a profitable activity. Andrea had expressed this desire to Miguel after meeting him in Milan. He had arrived in Caracas determined to stay there for a long time to realize how he could earn good money in a short period. He was tired of trudging in Italy, where were thousand bureaucratic difficulties and a lot of competitions. There was no more space for young entrepreneurs. A chronic malaise invaded all sectors of the productive environments. The Stock Exchange market was stagnating. The banks did not grant loans except for those that guaranteed with real estate worth three or four times higher than the requested loan. The interest rates were at the limit of loan sharking, and the failures could not be counted. In a society of a friend, they had pulled over a small car dealership. The work had gone well until the manufacturer had decided to expand his sales network, thus decreasing their already quick turnover. The competition grew more and more, and there were those who, just to sell new cars, taking back the old ones evaluating them almost to the point of the financial suicide. The used cars unsold crowded the large outdoor parking. Andrea often went around on a scooter to avoid being identified by the competitors and spied, through the fences, the yards encumbered with the used cars. At last, after much trouble came the day when his shareholder had proposed him to imitate the same technique of others.
“But yes…” he said to him, “you’ll see that we will increase the sales of both the new and the used car and that the banks will help us.” At the word banks, Andrea had pointed out him that those not helped anyone. In short, and thanks to the insistence of his associate, Andrea preferred to sell his part in exchange for a real output of one hundred million liras. The incoming associate should himself assumes all charges due. Since this was a limited company, it was quite easy to get out without adverse consequences, paying a modest amount in taxes and without the risk of any involvement, if the company had continued to make illicit affairs.
His first move was to use the modest capital, adding the savings that he had prudently set aside. Another thirty million. Unfortunately, except for investing that money for the Italian Treasury bills, he had no alternative. To get back himself in business, even not talking about it. He took a bit of time to reflect.
Andrea Oriani was born in Milan. He had made the thirty-fourth birthday about in late 1990 while raged the violent war against Saddam Hussein, and the exchange with the US dollar had fallen below the level of eleven hundred liras. For the moment, he had…