Best Kept Secret

by Jeffrey Archer

  Dear Mr Clifton,

  That was still taking him a little time to get used to.

  Many congratulations on being awarded the College’s Modern Languages scholarship. As I am sure you know, Michaelmas Term begins on September 16th, but I am hoping we can meet before then in order to discuss one or two matters, including your reading list before term begins. I would also like to guide you through the syllabus for your freshman year.

  Perhaps you could drop me a line or, better still, give me a ring.

  Yours sincerely,

  Dr Brian Padgett

  Senior Tutor

  After he’d read it a second time, he decided to phone Bruno and find out if he’d received a similar letter, in which case they could travel up to Cambridge together.

  Diego wasn’t at all surprised to see his father come running out of the front door the moment he drove through the entrance gates. But what did surprise him was to see his brother Luis and every member of the Shillingford Hall staff following a few paces behind. Karl was bringing up the rear clutching a leather bag.

  ‘Have you got the statue?’ asked his father, even before Diego had stepped out of the truck.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Diego, who shook hands with his brother before walking around to the back of the truck. He unlocked the door to reveal the massive crate with over a dozen red SOLD stickers. Don Pedro smiled and patted the crate as if it was one of his pet dogs, then stepped aside to allow everyone else to do the heavy work.

  Diego supervised the team, who began to push and pull the vast packing case out of the truck inch by inch until it was about to topple over. Karl and Luis quickly grabbed two of the corners while Diego and the chef clung on to the other end, and the chauffeur and the gardener held on firmly to the middle.

  The six unlikely porters staggered around to the back of the house and dumped the crate in the middle of the lawn. The gardener didn’t look pleased.

  ‘Do you want it upright?’ asked Diego, once they’d caught their breath.

  ‘No,’ said Don Pedro, ‘leave it on its side, then it will be easier to remove the base.’

  Karl took a claw hammer out of his tool bag and set about loosening the deeply embedded nails that held the wooden slats in place. At the same time, the chef, the gardener and the chauffeur began to rip off the wooden panels from the sides with their hands.

  Once the last piece of wood had been removed, they all stood back and stared at The Thinker as he lay unceremoniously on his backside. Don Pedro’s eyes never left the wooden base. He bent down and looked more closely, but couldn’t detect anything that might suggest it had been tampered with. He glanced up at Karl and nodded.

  His trusted bodyguard bent down and studied the four butterfly screws. He took a pair of pliers out of the tool bag and began to unscrew one of them. It moved grudgingly at first, then a little more easily, until finally it swivelled off its bevelled rod and fell on the grass. He repeated the exercise three more times until all four screws had been removed. He then paused, but only for a moment before he grabbed hold of both sides of the wooden base and, with all the strength he could muster, pulled it off the statue and dropped it on the grass. With a smile of satisfaction, he stood aside to allow his master the pleasure of being the first to look inside.

  Martinez fell to his knees and stared into the gaping hole, while Diego and the rest of the team awaited his next command. There was a long silence before Don Pedro suddenly let out a piercing scream that would have woken those resting peacefully in the nearby parish graveyard. The six men, displaying different degrees of fear, stared down at him, not sure what had caused the outburst, until he shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Where’s my money?’

  Diego had never seen his father so angry. He quickly knelt down by his side, thrust his hands into the statue and flailed about in search of the missing millions, but all he managed to retrieve was a rogue five-pound note that had got stuck to the inside of the bronze.

  ‘Where the hell’s the money?’ said Diego.

  ‘Someone must have stolen it,’ said Luis.

  ‘That’s stating the fucking obvious!’ bellowed Don Pedro.

  No one else considered offering an opinion while he continued to stare into the hollow base, still unwilling to accept that all he had to show after a year of preparing for this moment was a single counterfeit five-pound note. Several minutes passed before he rose unsteadily to his feet, and when he finally spoke he appeared remarkably calm.

  ‘I don’t know who is responsible for this,’ he said, pointing at the statue, ‘but if it’s the last thing I do, I will track them down, and leave my calling card.’

  Without another word, Don Pedro turned his back on the statue and marched towards the house. Only Diego, Luis and Karl dared to follow him. He walked through the front door, across the hall, into the drawing room, and stopped in front of a full-length portrait of Tissot’s mistress. He lifted Mrs Kathleen Newton off the wall and propped her up against the windowsill. He then began to swivel a dial several times, first to the left and then to the right, until he heard a click, when he heaved open the heavy door of the safe. Martinez stared for a moment at the piles of neatly stacked five-pound notes that members of his family and trusted staff had smuggled into England over the past ten years, before removing three large bundles of notes and handing one to Diego, another to Luis and the third to Karl. He looked fixedly at the three of them. ‘No one rests until we’ve found out who was responsible for stealing my money. Each one of you must play your part, and you will only be rewarded by results.’

  He turned to Karl. ‘I want you to find out who informed Giles Barrington that his nephew was on the way to Southampton and not London airport.’

  Karl nodded, as Martinez swung round to face Luis. ‘You will go down to Bristol this evening and find out who Barrington’s enemies are. Members of Parliament always have enemies, and don’t forget that many of them will be on his own side. And while you’re down there, try to pick up any information you can about the family’s shipping company. Are they facing any financial difficulties? Do they have any trouble with the unions? Are there any policy disagreements among the board members? Are the shareholders voicing any misgivings? Dig deep, Luis. Remember, you may not come across any water until you’ve reached several feet below the surface.’

  ‘Diego,’ he said, switching his attention to his eldest son, ‘go back to Sotheby’s and find out who was the under-bidder for lot twenty-nine, because they must have known that my money was no longer in the statue, otherwise they couldn’t have risked raising the stakes so high.’

  Don Pedro paused for a moment before he began jabbing a forefinger at Diego’s chest. ‘But your most important task will be to build a team that will allow me to destroy whoever is responsible for this theft. Start by instructing the sharpest lawyers available, because they’ll know who the bent coppers are as well as the criminals that never get caught, and they won’t ask too many questions as long as the money is right. Once all these questions have been answered and everything is in place, I’ll be ready to do to them what they’ve done to us.’

  44

  ‘A HUNDRED AND twenty thousand pounds,’ said Harry. ‘A phone bidder, but The Times doesn’t seem to know who the buyer was.’

  ‘Only one person could have paid that much for the piece,’ said Emma. ‘And by now, Mr Martinez will realize he didn’t get what he bargained for.’ Harry looked up from the newspaper to see his wife trembling. ‘And if there’s one thing we know about that man, he’ll want to know who was responsible for stealing his money.’

  ‘But he has no reason to believe Seb was involved. I was only in Buenos Aires for a few hours, and no one other than the ambassador even knew my name.’

  ‘Except for Mr . . . what was his name?’

  ‘Bolton. But he came back on the same plane as me.’

  ‘If I was Martinez,’ said Emma, her voice breaking, ‘the first person I’d assume was involved is Seb.’

 
‘But why, especially when he wasn’t?’

  ‘Because he was the last person to see the statue before it was handed over to Sotheby’s.’

  ‘That’s not proof.’

  ‘Believe me, it will be proof enough for Martinez. I think we have no choice but to warn Seb that—’

  The door opened and Jessica burst into the room.

  ‘Mama, you’ll never guess where Seb’s going tomorrow.’

  ‘Luis, brief me on what you found out when you were in Bristol.’

  ‘I’ve spent most of my time turning over stones to see if anything would crawl out.’

  ‘And did it?’

  ‘Yes, I discovered that although Barrington is well respected and popular in his constituency, he’s made several enemies along the way, including his ex-wife, and—’

  ‘What’s her problem?’

  ‘Feels Barrington let her down badly over his mother’s will, and she also objects to being replaced by a Welsh coalminer’s daughter.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should try to contact her?’

  ‘I have already tried, but it’s not that simple. The English upper classes always expect someone they know to make the introduction. But while I was in Bristol, I came across a man who claims he knows her well.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Major Alex Fisher.’

  ‘And what’s his connection with Barrington?’

  ‘He was the Conservative candidate at the last election when Barrington defeated him by four votes. Fisher claims Barrington cheated him out of the seat, and I got the feeling he’d do almost anything to get even.’

  ‘Then we must assist him in his cause,’ said Don Pedro.

  ‘I also discovered that since losing the election Fisher’s been running up debts all over Bristol, and he’s desperately searching for a lifeline.’

  ‘Then I’ll have to throw him one, won’t I?’ said Don Pedro. ‘What can you tell me about Barrington’s girlfriend?’

  ‘Dr Gwyneth Hughes. She teaches maths at St Paul’s girls’ school in London. The local Labour Party has been expecting an announcement about their future together ever since his divorce went through, but, to quote a committee member who has met her, she couldn’t be described as a “dolly bird”.’

  ‘Forget her,’ said Don Pedro. ‘She won’t be any use to us unless she gets ditched. Concentrate on his ex-wife and, if the major can arrange a meeting, find out if she’s interested in money or revenge. Almost every ex-wife wants one or the other and, in most cases, both.’ He smiled at Luis before adding, ‘Well done, my boy.’ Turning to Diego, he asked, ‘What have you got for me?’

  ‘I haven’t finished yet,’ said Luis, sounding a little aggrieved. ‘I also came across someone else who knows more about the Barrington family than they do themselves.’

  ‘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 mo
re than enough time.’

  ‘But I still have to be in Cambridge by midday the following day.’

  ‘Then you can stay here overnight, and Karl can drive you to Liverpool Street first thing Friday morning.’

  ‘Who’s playing?’

  ‘Fraser versus Cooper, promises to be a sizzler. And if you’re really good, I’ll drive you to Wimbledon in my snazzy new car.’

  ‘You’ve got a car?’ said Sebastian in disbelief.

  ‘An orange MGA, drophead coupé. Dad gave it to me for my eighteenth.’

  ‘You jammy bastard,’ said Sebastian. ‘My pa gave me the complete works of Proust for mine.’

  Bruno laughed. ‘And if you behave yourself, on the way I might even tell you about my latest girlfriend.’

  ‘Your latest?’ mocked Sebastian. ‘You’ve got to have had at least one before you can have a “latest”.’

  ‘Do I detect a twinge of envy?’

  ‘I’ll let you know after I’ve met her.’

  ‘You’re not going to get the chance, because I won’t be seeing her again until Friday, and by then you’ll be on the train to Cambridge. See you around eleven tomorrow.’

  Bruno put the phone down and was on his way to his room when the study door opened and his father appeared, an arm around the shoulder of a military-looking gentleman. Bruno wouldn’t have considered eavesdropping on his father’s conversation, if he hadn’t heard the name Barrington.

  ‘We’ll have you back on the board in no time,’ his father was saying as he accompanied his guest to the front door.

  ‘That’s a moment I will savour.’

  ‘However, I want you to know, major, that I’m not interested in the occasional raid on Barrington’s simply to embarrass the family. My long-term plan is to take over the company and install you as chairman. How does that sound?’

  ‘If it brings down Giles Barrington at the same time, nothing would please me more.’

  ‘Not just Barrington,’ said Martinez. ‘It’s my intention to destroy every member of that family, one by one.’