after she’d grabbed the phone out of Harry’s hand.
‘He’s fit and well,’ said Giles, ‘but I’m afraid that’s the only good news. He’s on his way to Buenos Aires.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Emma. ‘Why would Seb want to go to Buenos Aires?’
‘I’ve no idea. All I can tell you is that he’s on board the SS South America with someone called Pedro Martinez, the father of one of his school friends.’
‘Bruno,’ said Emma. ‘Is he on board as well?’
‘No, he can’t be, because I saw him at his house in Eaton Square.’
‘We’ll drive up to London immediately,’ said Emma. ‘Then we can visit Bruno first thing in the morning.’
‘I don’t think that would be wise in the circumstances,’ said Giles.
‘Why not?’ demanded Emma.
‘For several reasons, not least because I’ve just had a call from Sir Alan Redmayne, the cabinet secretary. He’s asked if the three of us would join him in Downing Street at ten o’clock tomorrow. I can’t believe it’s a coincidence.’
34
‘GOOD DAY, SIR ALAN,’ said Giles as the three of them were shown into the cabinet secretary’s office. ‘May I introduce my sister, Emma, and my brother-in-law, Harry Clifton?’
Sir Alan Redmayne shook hands with Harry and Emma before introducing Mr Hugh Spencer.
‘Mr Spencer is an assistant secretary at the Treasury,’ he explained. ‘The reason for his presence will become clear.’
They all sat down around a circular table in the centre of the room.
‘I realize this meeting was called to discuss a most serious matter,’ said Sir Alan, ‘but before I begin, I would like to say, Mr Clifton, that I am an avid follower of William Warwick. Your latest book is on my wife’s side of the bed, so unfortunately I won’t be allowed to read it until she’s turned the last page.’
‘That’s very kind of you, sir.’
‘Let me begin by explaining why we needed to see you at such short notice,’ said Sir Alan, his tone of voice changing. ‘I would like to reassure you, Mr and Mrs Clifton, that we are just as concerned about your son’s welfare as you are, even if our interests may differ from yours. The government’s interest,’ he continued, ‘centres around a man called Don Pedro Martinez, who has fingers in so many pies that we now have a filing cabinet exclusively devoted to him. Mr Martinez is an Argentinian citizen with a residence in Eaton Square, a country house at Shillingford, three cruise liners, a string of polo ponies stabled at the Guards Polo Club in Windsor Great Park, and a box at Ascot. He always comes to London during the season, and has a wide circle of friends and associates who believe him to be a wealthy cattle baron. And why shouldn’t they? He owns three hundred thousand acres of pampas in Argentina, with around five hundred thousand head of cattle grazing on it. Although this yields him a handsome profit, in fact it’s nothing more than a front to shield his more nefarious activities.’
‘And what are they?’ asked Giles.
‘To put it bluntly, Sir Giles, he’s an international crook. He makes Moriarty look like a choir boy. Allow me to tell you a little more of what we know about Mr Martinez, and then I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have. Our paths first crossed in 1935, when I was a special assistant attached to the War Office. I discovered he was doing business with Germany. He had forged a close relationship with Heinrich Himmler, the head of the SS, and we know he met Hitler on at least three occasions. During the war he made a vast fortune supplying the Germans with whatever raw materials they were short of, although he was still living in Eaton Square.’
‘Why didn’t you arrest him?’ asked Giles.
‘It suited our purposes not to,’ said Sir Alan. ‘We were keen to find out who his contacts in Britain were, and what they were up to. Once the war was over, Martinez returned to Argentina and continued trading as a cattle farmer. In fact, he never once went back to Berlin after the Allies had entered the city. He continued to visit this country regularly. He even sent all three of his sons to English public schools, and his daughter is currently at Roedean.’
‘Forgive me for interrupting,’ said Emma, ‘but how does Sebastian fit into all of this?’
‘He didn’t, Mrs Clifton, until last week, when he turned up unannounced at forty-four Eaton Square, and his friend Bruno invited him to