Prologue
The sea, blue, green blue, not one cloud… Egon smokes a Romanoff cigar and swings slowly on the hamaca; a sea bird crosses the space graznando and glides… The shadow passes swiftly and from her bird’s eye she sees the pure white sand of the beach and the palm trees as well, and the gardens and bungalows of the luxury hotel. The fresh air runs free. The sun hasn’t reached the zenith yet, but sometimes a warm wave can be felt. In a short time that place will be a furnace for sure.
The sea is calm. The waves come to the shore to die. Out of the blue, the sea bird drops a little bomb of shit, which crashes on the left side of the hamaca… Splash!!
La Contessa Erika Farnsmayer came to Egon and said, “Egon, darling, remember that tonight we’ll have dinner with the Johnsons (of Johnson and Johnson, right?). We have to be at the club at 7 p.m.”
“We have enough time, Erika, don’t worry!” Egon answered.
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