Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(103)

He took out four five-pound notes and handed them to her.

She took the money and disappeared even more quickly than he had come.



When the plane finally touched down at London Airport, Harry took advantage of his uniform and joined the crew as they strolled unhindered through customs. He declined Annabel’s offer to accompany her on the bus into London, and instead joined the long queue for a taxi.

Forty minutes later, the cab came to a halt outside Giles’s house in Smith Square. Looking forward to a long bath, an English meal and a good night’s sleep, Harry banged on the brass knocker, hoping Giles would be at home.

A few moments later, the door swung open, and when Giles saw him he burst out laughing, stood to attention and saluted.

‘Welcome home, captain.’



When Sebastian woke the next morning, the first thing he did was to check his wallet. He only had ten pounds left, and he’d hoped to start life at Cambridge having saved eighty. As he looked at his clothes strewn across the floor, even his new leather belt had lost its allure. This morning he would only be able to visit places with no entrance charge.

Uncle Giles had been right when he’d told him there are defining moments in one’s life when you learn a lot about yourself, and you deposit that knowledge in the experience account, so you can draw on it at some later date.

Once Sebastian had packed his few belongings and gathered up his presents, his thoughts turned to England, and starting life as an undergraduate. He couldn’t wait. When he stepped out of the lift on the ground floor, he was surprised to see Don Pedro’s chauffeur, peaked cap under his arm, standing in the lobby. He put the cap back on the moment he saw Sebastian, and said, ‘Boss wants to see you.’

Sebastian climbed into the back of the Rolls-Royce, glad to have an opportunity to thank Don Pedro for all he’d done, although he wasn’t going to admit that he was down to his last ten pounds. On arrival at Martinez House, he was shown straight through to Don Pedro’s office.

‘Sebastian, I am sorry to drag you in like this, but a small problem has arisen.’

Sebastian’s heart sank as he feared he wasn’t going to be allowed to escape. ‘A problem?’

‘I had a call from my friend Mr Matthews at the British Embassy this morning. He pointed out that you’d entered the country without a passport. I told him you’d travelled on my ship, and that while you were in Buenos Aires you were my guest, but, as he explained, that won’t help you get back into Britain.’

‘Does that mean I’ll miss the ship?’ Sebastian couldn’t hide his dismay.

‘Certainly not,’ said Martinez. ‘My driver will take you to the embassy on the way to the port, and the ambassador has promised there will be a passport for you at reception.’

‘Thank you,’ said Sebastian.

‘Of course, it helps that the ambassador is a personal friend,’ said Martinez with a smile. He then handed him a thick envelope and said, ‘Be sure you hand this in to customs when you land at Southampton.’

‘Is this the package I’m meant to take back to England?’ asked Sebastian.

‘No, no,’ said Martinez, laughing. ‘These are just the export documents to verify what’s in the crate. All you have to do is present them to customs, and then Sotheby’s will take over.’

Sebastian had never heard of Sotheby’s, and made a mental note of the name.

‘And Bruno rang last night to say he’s looking forward to seeing you once you’re back in London, and hopes you’ll stay with him at Eaton Square. After all, it must be a better alternative than a guest house in Paddington.’

Sebastian thought about Tibby, and would have liked to tell Don Pedro that the Safe Haven guest house was the equal of the Majestic Hotel in Buenos Aires. ‘Thank you, sir,’ was all he said.

‘Bon voyage, and just make sure that Sotheby’s picks up my package. Once you get to London, let Karl know you’ve delivered it and remind him that I’ll be back on the Monday.’

He stepped out from behind his desk, gripped Sebastian by the shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks. ‘I look upon you as my fourth son.’

Don Pedro’s first son was standing by the window in his office on the floor below when Sebastian left the building carrying a thick envelope worth eight million pounds. He watched as Sebastian climbed into the back of the Rolls, but didn’t move until he’d seen the driver ease away from the kerbside to join the morning traffic.

Diego ran up the stairs and joined his father.

‘Is the statue safely on board?’ Don Pedro asked once the door had been closed.

‘I watched it being lowered into the hold earlier this morning. But I’m still not convinced.’

‘About what?’

‘There’s eight million pounds of your money hidden in that statue, and not one of our team on board to keep an eye on it. You’ve left a boy, barely out of school, responsible for the entire operation.’

‘Which is exactly why no one will take any interest in the statue, or him,’ said Don Pedro. ‘The paperwork is in the name of Sebastian Clifton, and all he has to do is present the manifest to customs, sign the release form, and then Sotheby’s will take over, with no suggestion that we are in any way involved.’

‘Let’s hope you’re right.’