The Alternative Detective (Hob Draconian) - Plot & Excerpts
There must be something about the mentality that appeals to me, makes me seek out the arid zeitgeist of Hispanicism. Countries exist as models for our minds, and they give us coloration beyond our individual mannerisms. My tie with Spain was profound, ironic, and as delusional as the adventures of the great Quixote himself, my progenitor. These were my thoughts as I lay slumped against one side of the interior of what seemed to be a large touring car. I decided to feign unconsciousness for a while. Through the fringe of my narrowed eyelids I could make out two large men in the back with me, facing me on jump seats. Beyond them, I saw Esteban sitting beside the driver. The driver wore a driver’s cap. You gotta hand it to the South Americans; they’ve got style. Of course, what they were doing kidnapping me was something that defied even my powers of fantastical association. And what in hell was El Grupo Blanco, anyhow, and what did they want from me? The two men in the jump seats were talking together in low tones.
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