White Cargo

by Stuart Woods Narrated by L. J. Ganser

Overview

New York Times best-selling author Stuart Woods is hailed as a master of the modern thriller. With books including Chiefs, Dead in the Water and Worst Fears Realized, he has attracted millions of fans who relish their nonstop suspense and danger. Wendell "Cat" Catledge is sailing along the coast of South America with his wife and teenaged daughter when engine trouble forces them to a small Colombian dockyard. Suddenly, their vacation becomes a nightmare. Cat is unconscious, his boat is sinking, his wife and child lie bloody and cold in the cabin. Months later, a phone call in the middle of the night leads Cat to believe that his daughter is still alive. His search for her will take him deep into the Amazon jungle and into the maelstrom of an all-consuming revenge. The intense action in White Cargo builds to a shattering showdown that is all the more gripping through L.J. Ganser's dramatic narration.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

Despite Woods's on-site research in Colombia, this suspense tale of cocaine trafficking and kidnapping only skims the surface of the seamy drug world it purports to investigate. Wendell (``Cat'') Catledge, a self-made electronics millionaire, is yachting off the South American coast with his family when a bloody act of piracy snatches away his ``heart-stoppingly beautiful'' teenage daughter Jinx and wife Katie. They are presumed dead, but weeks later Cat gets a brief phone call and recognizes Jinx's voice. His quest for his daughter, who is now a zombie enslaved by ``the Anaconda,'' a Colombian drug baron, involves Cat with assorted CIA and narc types and with Meg Greville, a freelance TV journalist who may be KGB. Woods (Deep Lie, Chiefs) serves up a slam-bang rescue as a fitting finale, but the suspense overall is so-so and the Latinos are either faceless or stereotypically sneaky. This one reads like a lukewarm episode of Miami Vice. (August)

From the Publisher

Praise for White Cargo

“Terrific! A top-notch thriller.”—New York Daily News

“A gripping thriller...a taut story that brings attention to one of the most vicious plagues to hit mankind...when the book is concluded, there remains the unsettling question of just how much is fiction and how much is fact.”—San Diego Union-Tribune

More Praise for Stuart Woods

“Stuart Woods is a no-nonsense, slam-bang storyteller.”—Chicago Tribune

“A world-class mystery writer...I try to put Woods’s books down and I can’t.”—Houston Chronicle 

“Mr. Woods, like his characters, has an appealing way of making things nice and clear.”—The New York Times

“Woods certainly knows how to keep the pages turning.”—Booklist

“Since 1981, readers have not been able to get their fill of Stuart Woods’ New York Times bestselling novels of suspense.”—Orlando Sentinel

OCT/NOV 01 - AudioFile

Woods's violent but involving thriller about a father's attempts to retrieve his kidnapped daughter from the clutches of a merciless drug kingpin is thankfully relieved by pleasant interludes at lavish South American hotels, often poolside, and by a little romance. L.J. Ganser's fluid, energetic voice smoothly handles these shifts in tone, effectively conveying both the gritty action and the lighter moments. His vocal characterizations are varied and interesting, and his delivery makes the most of some surprising plot developments. As "Cat" Catledge and his small band of allies navigate the dark underbelly of Colombia and the dangers of the Amazon jungle in search of his missing daughter, Ganser does an able job of making us root for the good guys. J.P.M. © AudioFile 2001, Portland, Maine

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169070798
Publisher:	Recorded Books, LLC
Publication date:	06/13/2008
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

White Cargo

Chapter One

Wendell Catledge sat up and squinted at the smudge on the horizon. It should not have been a surprise, he thought, but it was. The boat slid smoothly along in the light wind, and even the slight movement made it hard to focus on the shape, but it wasn't a ship or an oil rig, and in the early morning light, it seemed to be pink. He pulled at his beard and ran a hand through his hair, which was a good six months overdue for cutting. Hell, it just might be, it just might be what he guessed it was.

He glanced at the sails, left the autopilot in charge, and climbed down the companionway ladder to the navigation station. As he slid into the chart table seat he allowed himself yet another look at his instrument array. It was all there -- full Brookes & Gatehouse electronics, VHF and SSB radios, loran, Satnav, Weatherfax, a compact personal computer, and his own brainchild and namesake, the Cat One printer. That little machine had brought him all this -- the yacht, the gear, and the time to sail. Cat had waked up one morning and realized that, after nearly thirty years in electronics, he was an overnight success. He gave the printer a fatherly pat and turned to his chart of the southern Caribbean.

He pushed a button on the loran and got a readout of longitude and latitude, then plotted the coordinates on his chart and confirmed his suspicion. They were south of their course from Antigua to Panama and the Canal, and the smudge on the horizon wasn't all that far off the rhumb line. A tiny thrill ran through him. This is what it's all about, he thought, that little thrill of discovery, pushing back the boundaries,punching through the envelope. He laughed aloud to himself, then he banged his flat palm onto the chart table.

"All hands on deck!" he shouted, grabbing the binoculars and starting for the companionway ladder. "All hands on deck!" he yelled again, pausing in the hatchway, "Come on, everybody, shake it!" There was a rustling noise from the after cabin and a loud thump from the forepeak. He raised the glasses and focused on the distant, pink smudge. It was. It was, indeed.

Katie was the first into the cockpit, rubbing her eyes. Jinx was a step or two behind, having paused long enough to find a life jacket. "What is it, Cat? What's wrong?" his wife demanded.

"What's going on, Daddy?" Jinx yelled, wide-eyed.

He was pleased that, in her excitement, Jinx had forgotten to call him Cat. When she addressed him as an equal, it reminded him she was growing up -- had grown up. "Right over there," he said, pointing at the smudge.

Both women squinted at the horizon, shielding their eyes from the sun, which was now just above the horizon, big and hot.

"What is it?" Jinx demanded. "I can only see sort of a smudge -- "

"That's South America, kid," he replied. "Never let it be said your old man didn't show you South America."

She turned to him, a look of astonished disgust spreading over her face. "You mean you got me out of the sack for that?" She turned to her mother and shrugged, spreading her hands.

"For Christ's sake, Cat," his wife said, "I thought we were sinking." Both women turned back toward the companionway.

"Hey, wait a minute, guys," Cat said, thrusting the chart toward them, "that smudge is the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, a little mountain range that goes up to nearly nineteen thousand feet; that's the La Guajira Peninsula of Colombia out there; just south of it is the fabled Venezuelan Port of Maracaibo. Doesn't that name send a chill right through you?"

"It sends a yawn right through me," Jinx said, yawning.

"No, wait a minute, kitten," Katie said to her daughter. "Look at it through the glasses. Your father didn't bring us all this way to miss this sort of thing."

Jinx took the binoculars and looked through them at the smudge. "Gee," she said, flatly, "you're right, it's a mountain. I've never seen a mountain before." She handed the glasses back to her mother.

Katie raised the glasses to her eyes. "You're right, it's a mountain. I've never seen a mountain before, either. Wow." She handed the binoculars back to Cat. "Can we go back to bed now?"

"Aw, listen, I know it's early, but you've got to get into the spirit. How would you like to have lunch in Colombia? How about that for a little unscheduled adventure?"

"I thought you were anxious to get through the Canal," Katie replied.

"Well, what the hell? It's not much out of the way, and we need to get that alternator fixed, you know. No more showers or microwave or hair dryer until we can charge the batteries again, and all that stuff in the freezer is going to go, too." The alternator had been down for two days, and they didn't have a spare. "Take a look here, both of you," Cat said, spreading the chart on a cockpit seat. "Here's Santa Marta, just down here. It's a commercial port, and they're bound to have some sort of electrical repair place there. "

"Listen, I don't like what I hear about Colombia," Katie said. "All I hear is pickpockets and drugs and stuff. Sounds like a pretty rough place to me."

"Don't believe everything you read in the papers," Cat replied. "Hell, lots of people go there all the time. It's just like any other place; a few of them get ripped off, sure. We've been in neighborhoods in Atlanta that were probably as dangerous as anything in Santa Marta."

"I don't know, Cat."

"Listen, Mom," Jinx broke in, "I don't mind..."

White Cargo. Copyright © by Stuart Woods. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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