Best Kept Secret (The Clifton Chronicles, #3)(114)

‘And who’s that?’

‘A private detective called Derek Mitchell. He’s worked for both the Barringtons and the Cliftons in the past, but I have a feeling that, if the money was right, I could persuade him to—’

‘Don’t go anywhere near him,’ said Don Pedro firmly. ‘If he’s willing to double-cross his former employers, what makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to us when it suits him? But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep a close eye on the man.’

Luis nodded, although he looked disappointed.

‘Diego?’

‘A BOAC pilot called Peter May stayed at the Hotel Milonga for two nights at exactly the same time Sebastian Clifton was in Buenos Aires.’

‘So what?’

‘The same man was seen coming out of the back door of the British Embassy on the day of the garden party.’

‘That could just be a coincidence.’

‘And the concierge at the Milonga overheard someone who seemed to know the man address him as Harry Clifton, which just happens to be the name of Sebastian’s father.’

‘Less of a coincidence.’

‘And once his cover had been blown, the man took the next plane back to London.’

‘No longer a coincidence.’

‘What’s more, Mr Clifton left without paying his hotel bill, which was later picked up by the British Embassy, proving not only that father and son were in Buenos Aires at the same time, but that they must have been working together.’

‘Then why didn’t they stay at the same hotel?’ asked Luis.

‘Because they didn’t want to be seen together, would be my bet,’ said Don Pedro. He paused before adding, ‘Well done, Diego. And was this Harry Clifton also the under-bidder for my statue?’

‘I don’t think so. When I asked the chairman of Sotheby’s who it was, he claimed he had no idea. And although I hinted, Mr Wilson is clearly not a man who can be tempted by a backhander, and I suspect if he was in any way threatened, his next call would be to Scotland Yard.’ Don Pedro frowned. ‘But I may have identified Wilson’s one weakness,’ continued Diego. ‘When I hinted that you were considering putting The Thinker back up for sale, he let slip that the British government might be interested in buying it.’

Don Pedro exploded, and delivered a tirade of expletives that would have shocked a prison warden. It was some time before he calmed down again, and when he finally did, he said almost in a whisper, ‘So now we know who stole my money. And by now, they’ll have destroyed the notes or handed them over to the Bank of England. Either way,’ he spat out, ‘we’ll never see a penny of that money again.’

‘But even the British government couldn’t have carried out such an operation without the cooperation of the Clifton and Barrington family,’ suggested Diego, ‘so our target hasn’t moved.’

‘Agreed. How’s your team shaping up?’ he asked, quickly changing the subject.

‘I’ve put a small group together who don’t like the idea of paying tax.’ The other three laughed for the first time that morning. ‘For the moment, I’m keeping them on a retainer, ready to move whenever you give the order.’

‘Do they have any clue who they’ll be working for?’

‘No. They think I’m a foreigner with far too much money, and frankly they don’t ask too many questions as long as they’re paid on time and in cash.’

‘Good enough.’ Don Pedro turned to Karl. ‘Have you been able to identify who told Barrington that his nephew was on the way to Southampton and not London?’

‘I can’t prove it,’ said Karl, ‘but I’m sorry to report the only name in the frame is Bruno’s.’

‘That boy has always been too honest for his own good. I blame his mother. We must make sure we never discuss what I have in mind while he’s around.’

‘But none of us are quite sure what it is you do have in mind,’ said Diego.

Don Pedro smiled. ‘Never forget that if you want to bring an empire to its knees you start by killing the first in line to the throne.’





45


THE FRONT DOORBELL rang at one minute to ten, and Karl answered it.

‘Good morning, sir,’ he said. ‘How may I help you?’

‘I have an appointment with Mr Martinez at ten o’clock.’

Karl gave a slight bow and stood aside to allow the visitor to enter. He then led him across the hall, tapped on the study door and said, ‘Your guest has arrived, sir.’

Martinez rose from behind his desk and thrust out a hand. ‘Good morning. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’

As Karl closed the study door and made his way to the kitchen, he passed Bruno, who was chatting on the phone.

‘. . . my father’s given me a couple of tickets for the men’s semi-final at Wimbledon tomorrow, and he suggested I invite you.’

‘That’s very decent of him,’ said Seb, ‘but I’ve got an appointment to see my tutor in Cambridge on Friday, so I don’t think I’ll be able to make it.’

‘Don’t be so feeble,’ said Bruno. ‘There’s nothing to stop you coming up to London tomorrow morning. The match doesn’t start until two, so as long as you can get here by eleven, you’ll have more than enough time.’