Set in the fictional country of Anchuria, and written under the pen-name O Henry, it was based on his time in Honduras where huge fruit corporations dominated the country's lucrative banana business and controlled its turbulent politics.
And Graham Greene, that most astute chronicler of the peculiarities of life in small and unstable tropical nations, would surely have been hard pressed to conjure up a fictional narrative to match the events of the past seven days.
Two presidents made their cases to the world; two foreign ministers traded barbs; and two finance ministers claimed to be in charge of the country’s struggling economy. The Honduran ambassador to Washington recognised the new president of his country, while his friend and counterpart at the UN mission in New York remained loyal to the old order.
At the pink and brown presidential palace, Mr Micheletti sought to portray himself as his country’s legitimate president, arguing that that a democratically-elected head of state was overthrown to preserve democracy.
As soldiers and barbed wire protected the faux-Spanish colonial building and its lush grounds from protesters under a glowering tropical sky and political aides bustled between the columns and arches, the Sunday Telegraph was among a small group of foreign journalists ushered into a salon off the courtyard.
The silver-haired political veteran had a message for the world. “I am not here because of a coup, I am here because of a legal succession,” he insisted.
The world was not persuaded. Not only have the United Nations, the Organisation of American States (OAS) and the European Union all refused to recognise his ascent to power, but so have leaders ranging across the spectrum. Mr Chavez denounced the coup – and so did the leader of his ostensible American foe, President Barack Obama.
The rare display of international unanimity was powered by the refusal to accept an administration born via the barrel of a gun – an apparent throw-back to Central America’s not-so-distant past, when coups and military intervention were the norm.
Mr Zelaya, a rancher and timber magnate who lurched dramatically leftwards in power, was dragged out of bed at gunpoint by hooded soldiers. Still wearing his pyjamas, he was then bundled aboard a flight to Costa Rica.
The country’s political, business, military and judicial establishments insist that he was ousted legitimately – after beginning moves to hold a vote on constitutional reform that had been banned by a court order.
They were he convinced that he planned to follow the example of fellow Chavistas in Bolivia, Ecuador and Nicaragua and change the law so that he could hold on to power after his four-year presidency expired in January.
But Mr Zelaya, whose support had fallen to about 30 per cent, now insists that he just wanted to retire to his ranch when his term ended. Meanwhile, his wife and teenage son were holed up at the US ambassador’s residence – even though her husband had enthusiastically embraced the policies of Mr Chávez, Washington’s political arch-enemy.
Outside, on the streets of a sprawling city that stretches from its colonial centre over the slopes of a bowl of wooded cloud-topped mountains, the mood was as unpredictable and steamy as the weather during the rainy season when fierce sun gives way moments later to ferocious downpours.
A statue of Christ and large white-lettered Coca Cola sign dominate a prominent ridge overlooking the centre, twin symbols of veneration in a country that is strongly Catholic and in love with American consumer culture. Beneath them, Hondurans clung as best they could to the rhythms of daily life despite a 10pm curfew, a media crackdown, boisterous rallies by rival factions and the deployment of grim-faced soldiers and paramilitary police outside ministries and key buildings.
The daily demonstrations reflected the deeply-polarised nature of the crisis. At a large pro-Micheletti rally on Friday, thousands of middle class Hondurans, dressed in white shirts as a peace symbol, gathered to express their support for the new administration, join patriotic chants and scorn the “communist Zelaya”. Across town, angry Zelaya supporters from trades unions, peasant associations and universities donned masks and Che Guevara T-shirts for their own show of strength.
The crisis deepened after Jose Miguel Insulza, the OAS secretary general, visited Honduras on Friday with an ultimatum calling for Mr Zelaya’s reinstatement. The demand was rebuffed and Mr Insulza presented with the 18-charge arrest warrant and Supreme Court case against Mr Zelaya.
After Mr Insulza repeated that Honduras faced immediate suspension from the OAS at an emergency meeting yesterday, the Micheletti administration reacted by withdrawing before it could be kicked out.
In a week of twists and turns, the most predictable outbursts came from Fidel Castro, the long-time Cuban dictator who showed little interest in democratic niceties when he seized power in a revolution, and Mr Chávez, who has turned his armed forces into a wing of his revolutionary political machine. Both men vociferously denounced their ally’s overthrow.
But Mr Obama’s condemnation of Mr Zelaya’s ousting was more significant. It effectively undercut their attempts to paint Washington as the regional “bad guy” – yet frustrated Mr Micheletti’s backers who expected support from a traditional ally, which until last week oversaw close links between US forces based in the country and the Honduran military.
Billy Joya, a political consultant and advisor to Mr Micheletti, laid out the justification for the move against Mr Zelaya. He said that the deposed president was following the same “Marxist-Leninist strategy” for controlling all branches of government as Salvador Allende had pursued in Chile before he was overthrown by Gen Augusto Pinochet in the 1973 coup.
And he pointed out that in contrast to the old tradition of Latin American coups, the military had no desire to take office and were acting on court orders. “The world should be clear that Zelaya was legally removed and Micheletti became president in constitutional circumstances,” he said.
Senior figures from the Zelaya administration fled to foreign embassies or went into hiding, fearful of arrest. After an exchange of messages via intermediaries, Armando Sarmiento, the ex-head of the tax service who has been granted asylum at a Latin American diplomatic compound, agreed to a clandestine conversation with The Sunday Telegraph.
“Even assuming there was a case that Zelaya violated the law, there are procedures you follow,” he said. “Every citizen has the right to a fair trial and to defend themselves but he was not given that right. He was just thrown out of his homeland.”
The Sunday Telegraph has seen the Supreme Court order to the military to arrest Mr Zelaya, and there is no mention of exile. But a senior strategist for the new government said the former president was ejected to avoid further conflict and the risk of bloodshed. “Due process is a fine principle and works in America and Britain, but this is Honduras,” he said.
Central America’s last coup took place 16 years ago in Guatemala, but the crisis in Honduras was a dramatic reminder of the fragility of democracy in the region.
Yet Mr Micheletti was unbowed as he made clear during our visit to the presidential palace. Asked if he felt isolated, he responded that 80 per cent of Hondurans supported him. “I don’t feel alone,” he said. “I have the company of the Honduran people.”
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