Best Kept Secret

father’s shortcomings, although Martinez was happy to remind his
London friends that he had a son who would be going up to Cambridge in September.
    Little was known about the fourth child, Maria-Theresa, who was still at Roedean, and always spent the holidays with her mother.
    Harry stopped reading when Miss Carrick set up a dinner table for him, but even during the meal, the damn man lingered in his mind.
    During the years after the war, Martinez set about building up his bank’s resources. The Family Farmers Friendly Bank operated accounts for those clients who possessed land but not money.
Martinez’s methods were crude but effective. He would loan farmers any amount of money they required, at exorbitant interest rates, as long as the loans were covered by the value of the
farmers’ land.
    If customers were unable to make their quarterly payment, they received a foreclosure notice, giving them ninety days to clear the entire debt. If they failed to do so, and almost all of them
did, the deeds for the land were confiscated by the bank, and added to the vast acreage Martinez had already accumulated. Anyone who complained received a visit from Diego, who reshaped their face;
so much cheaper and more effective than employing lawyers.
    The only thing that might have undermined the avuncular cattle baron image Martinez had worked so hard to cultivate in London was the fact that his wife Consuela finally came to the conclusion
that her father had been right all along, and sued for divorce. As the proceedings took place in Buenos Aires, Martinez told anyone in London who asked, that Consuela had sadly died of cancer, thus
turning any possible social stigma into sympathy.
    After Consuela’s father failed to be re-elected as mayor – Martinez had backed the opposition candidate – she ended up living in a village a few miles outside Buenos Aires. She
received a monthly allowance, which didn’t allow her many shopping trips in the capital, and no possibility of travelling abroad. And sadly for Consuela, only one of her sons showed any
interest in keeping in touch with her, and he now lived in England.
    Only one person who was not a member of the Martinez family warranted his own page in Harry’s file: Karl Ramirez, whom Martinez employed as a butler/handyman. Although Ramirez had an
Argentinian passport, he bore a striking resemblance to one Karl Otto Lunsdorf, a member of the 1936 German Olympic wrestling team who later became a lieutenant in the SS, specializing in
interrogation. Ramirez’s paperwork was as impressive as Martinez’s five-pound notes, and almost certainly came from the same source.
    Miss Carrick cleared away the dinner tray and offered Captain May brandy and a cigar, which he politely declined, after thanking her for the turbulence. She smiled.
    ‘Turned out not to be quite as bad as the captain had originally thought,’ she said, masking a grin. ‘He asked me to let you know that, if you’re staying at the Milonga,
you’d be most welcome to join us on the BOAC bus, which would allow you to avoid Mr Bolton’ – Harry raised an eyebrow – ‘the man from Bristol, who’s absolutely
convinced he’s met you somewhere before.’
    Harry couldn’t help noticing that Miss Carrick had glanced at his left hand more than once, on which a pale band of skin clearly indicated that a wedding ring had been removed. Captain
Peter May had been divorced from his wife Angela for just over two years. They had two children: Jim, aged ten, who was hoping to go to Epsom College, and Sally, aged eight, who had her own pony.
He even had a photograph of them to prove it. Harry had handed his ring to Emma for safe keeping just before he departed. Something else she didn’t approve of.

    ‘London has asked me to make an appointment to see a Captain Peter May at ten o’clock tomorrow morning,’ said the ambassador.
    His secretary made a note in the diary. ‘Will you require any background notes on Captain May?’
    ‘No, because I haven’t a clue who he is, or why the Foreign Office wants me to see him. Just be sure to bring him straight to my office the moment he arrives.’

    Harry waited until the last passenger had disembarked before he joined the crew. After he’d been checked through customs, he walked out of the airport to find a minibus
waiting at the kerb.
    The driver placed his suitcase in the baggage hold as Harry climbed on board to be greeted by a smiling Miss Carrick.
    ‘May I