Arriving in Cadiz

Dearest Readers, What trials and tribulations we have endured since landing in Cadiz. The weather is fine, in the low 70’s. We arrived under cover of nightfall, and were immediately met by some kind of substandard automobile. I feared that the luggage would not fit, what with myself, my maid Helen, and our FBI man Mr. Reilly, and the insurance bodyguard Mr. Klampson, filling up the car.
The driver, a suspicious man wearing a Fedora and dark glasses (at night!) was named Paz. He threw our bags into the trunk in the most violent manner, eliciting an angry tirade from Helen. I do hope it wasn’t a mistake to bring her along. She is 82, but she prides herself on having the energy and strength of a 65 year-old. She negotiates Manhattan so well, but she has lived there for 70 years and knows every nook and cranny like the back of her hand. I fear that the unfamiliarity of this place is wearing on her. Mr. Reilly slept the entire ride to the Parador Cadiz.From what I could see, it was an average Parador, and I was hoping for a nice room and clean bath. But when we got to the front desk, we were met by a middle aged Asian woman who was BRUSHING HER HAIR behind the desk. Dear readers, as you know I am a stickler for good grooming, but to brush one’s hair in public, especially by a service person with customers waiting, well that is an egregious assault on one’s sensibilities. After more than 20 strokes, she deigned to approach us. I won’t re-construct the chaotic scene that ensued. Mr. Reilly lost his temper, and the Asian woman lost her temper, and we wer FORCED OUT of the Parador! Mr. Paz, the driver had left, and we we had to face the indignity of waiting a half hour for a cab in a foreign place, unable to go back inside because we knew the hair brushing Dragon Lady would be there. Finally, the cab arrived, and we were taken to the Hotel Playa Victoria.
Unfortunately, there were no sea view suites. At that point, Helen and I couldn’t have cared less. We were taken to our somewhat mouldy suite overlooking the air conditioning unit, and Helen drew me a bath with a generous helping of Olivina Bubble Bath, made from an infusion of hand-pressed olive and grapeseed oils. I luxuriated for almost an hour, giving Helen the time and privacy she needed to unpack and organize everything to her exacting specifications. We both collapsed into bed, and I suffered another night of strange dreams about Constance.
We awoke to Mr. Reilly’s knock at the door. He had received word from the Bush administration informing us that we were “on their radar” as it were. I should hope so! My Aunt Florence was at Smith with Barbara before she dropped out and married Bush 41. The Van der Loops have always been friendly with the Bush family, even if we didn’t particularly agree with their politics. So of course I put in a call to Barbara the minute I learned of Constance’s abduction, hoping that she would get her son on the case.
Helen and I dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast and a morning briefing with Mr. Reilly. The eggs were tolerable, and I also ordered chorizo, which wasn’t a particularly smart idea. Oh well. Mr. Reilly said that we would spend two nights in Cadiz, and then take the boat for Morocco tomorrow, as the terrorist organization has instructed us to do. We haven’t seen hide not hair of Mr. Klampson. I imagine he has his orders from the insurance company to just stick with the Carpathia diamond and guard it with his life.
After breakfast, I asked Mr. Reilly if Exxon/Mobil and Halliburton had been contacted about paying the ransom note, and he said they were “looking into it.” What could that mean? Is it possible that Exxon and Halliburton won’t “pony up” as it were? I have no answers, and nothing more has happened since breakfast. Helen and I have been tyring to conserve our energy. I considered sight-seeing, but we felt that under the circumstances, what fun would it be? Oh, there’s Mr. Reilly knocking on the door now. Hasta luego, dear readers.