'And, Miss Shaw, I'll sign it as soon as you've typed it, then I want you to arrange to have it and the invitation delivered to his office immediately, so it's on his desk before he arrives back tomorrow morning.'
'What date should I put on it, sir?'
'Good thinking,' said the ambassador as he glanced at the calendar on his desk. 'What date did your son leave England, Captain May?'
'Monday June the tenth, sir.'
The ambassador looked at the calendar once again. 'Date it the seventh. We can always blame its late arrival on the postal service. Everyone else does.' He didn't speak again until his secretary had left the room.
'Now, Mr Clifton,' he said, returning to his seat. 'Let me tell you what I have in mind.'
Harry didn't actually witness Sebastian, accompanied by Martinez, coming down the gangway of the SS South America the following morning, but the ambassador's secretary did. She later delivered a note to Harry's hotel, confirming that they had arrived and asking him to report to the embassy's side entrance off Dr Luis Agote at two o'clock the following afternoon, a full hour before the first guests were due to turn up for the garden party.
Harry sat on the end of the bed, wondering if the ambassador would prove right when he'd said that Martinez would rise to the bait quicker than a salmon on the Tweed. The only time he'd ever fished, the salmon had ignored him.
'When did this invitation arrive?' shouted Martinez, holding the gilt-edged card high in the air.
'It was hand-delivered yesterday morning by a member of the ambassador's personal staff,' said his secretary.
'Not like the British to send out an invitation that late,' said Martinez suspiciously.
'The ambassador's personal secretary rang to apologize. She told me they hadn't received replies to a number of the invitations that had been sent out by post, and assumed they'd gone astray. In fact she said if you get another one in the mail, please ignore it.'
'Damned postal service,' said Martinez. He passed the invitation to his son, and began to read the ambassador's letter.
'As you can see from the card,' said Martinez, 'I can take a guest. Would you like to join me?'
'You must be joking,' said Diego. 'I'd rather fall to my knees during high mass at the cathedral than be seen bowing and scraping at an English garden party.'
'Then perhaps I'll take young Sebastian with me. After all, he is the grandson of a lord, so there's no harm in giving the impression that I'm well connected with the British aristocracy.'
'Where is the boy now?'
'I've booked him into the Royal Hotel for a couple of days.'
'What reason did you give for bringing him out here in the first place?'
'I told him he could have a few days' holiday in Buenos Aires before returning to England with a consignment I need delivered to Sotheby's, for which he would be well paid.'
'Are you going to tell him what's in the crate?'
'Certainly not. The less he knows the better.'
'Perhaps I ought to go with him, just to make sure there aren't any slip-ups.'
'No, that would defeat the whole purpose of the exercise. The boy will return to England on the Queen Mary, while we fly to London a few days later. That will allow him to slip through the net while British customs concentrate their firepower on us. And we'll still be in London well in time for the auction.'
'Do you still want me to bid on your behalf?'
'Yes. I can't risk involving anyone outside the family.'
'But isn't it possible that someone will recognize me?'
'Not if you're bidding by phone.'
38
'IF YOU'LL BE kind enough to stand here, Mr President,' said the ambassador. 'Her Royal Highness will come to you first. I'm sure you'll have a lot to talk about.'
'My English not good,' said the president.
'Not to worry, Mr President, HRH is used to coping with that problem.'
The ambassador took a pace to his right. 'Good afternoon, Prime Minister. You will be the second person to be presented to the princess, once she's finished her conversation with the president.'
'Could you remind me of the correct way to address Her Majesty?'
'Of course, sir,' said the ambassador, not correcting his faux pas. 'Her Royal Highness will say "Good afternoon, Prime Minister", and before you shake hands, you should bow.' The ambassador gave a slight nod to demonstrate. Several people standing nearby began to practise the movement, just in case. 'Having bowed, you will then say, "Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness." She will open the conversation with a subject of her choice, to which you can respond appropriately. It is not considered courteous for you to ask her any questions, and you should address her as ma'am, which rhymes with jam, not harm. When she leaves you to move on to the mayor, you bow once again, and say, "Goodbye, Your Royal Highness."'
The prime minister looked perplexed.
'HRH should be with us in a few minutes,' said the ambassador, before moving on to the Mayor of Buenos Aires. He gave him the same instructions, before adding, 'Yours will be the last official presentation.'
The ambassador couldn't miss Martinez, who had placed himself a couple of feet behind the mayor. He could see that the young man standing by his side was Harry Clifton's son. Martinez headed straight for the ambassador, leaving Sebastian in his wake.
'Will I get to meet Her Majesty?' he asked.
'I was hoping to present you to Her Royal Highness. So if you'd be kind enough to stay exactly where you are, Mr Martinez, I'll bring her across as soon as she's finished talking to the mayor. But I'm afraid that does not include your guest. The princess is not accustomed to having to speak to two people at once, so perhaps the young gentleman would be kind enough to stand back a little.'
'Of course he will,' said Martinez, without consulting Sebastian.
'Now, I'd better get going, or this show will never get off the ground.' The ambassador made his way across the crowded lawn, avoiding stepping on the red carpet, as he walked back into his office.
The guest of honour was seated in a corner of the room, smoking a cigarette and chatting to the ambassador's wife. A long, elegant ivory cigarette holder dangled from her white gloved hand.
The ambassador bowed. 'We're ready, ma'am, whenever you are.'
'Then let's get on with it, shall we?' said the princess, taking one last puff before stubbing out her cigarette in the nearest ashtray.
The ambassador accompanied her out on to the balcony, where they paused for a moment. The bandmaster of the Scots Guards raised his baton, and the band began to play the unfamiliar sound of the guest's national anthem. Everyone fell silent, and most of the men copied the ambassador and stood rigidly to attention.
When the last chord had been played, Her Royal Highness proceeded slowly down the red carpet and on to the lawn, where the ambassador first introduced her to President Pedro Aramburu.
'Mr President, how nice to see you again,' the princess ventured. 'Thank you for a most fascinating morning. I did so enjoy seeing the assembly in session, and having lunch with you and your cabinet.'