Don Pedro stood at the back of the crowd and watched as a car he recognized came to a halt some distance from the ship.
He wasn’t surprised to see that this particular chauffeur didn’t get out when a couple of porters appeared from nowhere, opened the boot and unloaded a large trunk on to a trolley, and began to wheel it slowly toward the ship. Two men, one elderly and one in his thirties, stepped out of the back of the car. The older man, whom Don Pedro had never seen before, supervised the unloading of the luggage, while chatting to the porters. Don Pedro looked around for the other man, but he had already disappeared into the crowd.
Moments later the car swung around and drove away. Chauffeurs usually open the back door for their passengers, assist with the unloading of luggage, then await further instructions. Not this one, who clearly didn’t want to hang around long enough to be recognized, especially with such a large police presence on the quayside.
Don Pedro felt sure that whatever the IRA had planned, it was more likely to take place during the voyage than before the Buckingham had set sail. Once the car had disappeared, Don Pedro joined a long queue and waited for a taxi. He no longer had a driver or car. He was still smarting at the price he’d been paid for the Rolls-Royce after insisting on cash.
Eventually he reached the front of the queue and asked the cabbie to take him to Temple Meads station. On the train back to Paddington, he mulled over what he’d planned for the next day. He had no intention of paying the second installment of £250,000, not least because he didn’t have the money. He still had just over £23,000 in the safe, and another four thousand from the sale of the Rolls. He thought that if he could get out of London before the IRA had fulfilled their part of the bargain, they weren’t likely to follow him to Buenos Aires.
* * *
“Was it him?” asked the colonel.
“Might have been, but I can’t be sure,” Hartley replied. “There are a lot of chauffeurs in peaked caps and dark glasses today, and by the time I got close enough to have a good look, he was already heading back toward the gate.”
“Did you see who he was dropping off?”
“Look around, sir, it could be any one of the hundreds of passengers boarding the ship,” said Hartley, as someone brushed past the colonel.
“I’m so sorry,” said Lord Glenarthur, raising his hat and giving the colonel a smile before he walked up the passenger ramp and boarded the ship.
* * *
“Great cabin,” said Sam as she came out of the shower wrapped in a towel. “They’ve thought of everything a girl needs.”
“That’s because my mother will have inspected every room.”
“Every one?” said Sam in disbelief.
“You’d better believe it. It’s just a pity she hasn’t thought about everything a boy needs.”
“What else could you possibly want?”
“A double bed, to start with. Don’t you think it’s a bit early in our relationship to be sleeping in separate beds?”
“Stop being so feeble, Seb, just push them together.”
“I wish it was that easy, but they’re bolted to the floor.”
“Then why don’t you take the mattresses off,” she said, speaking very slowly, “put them next to each other, and we’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I’ve already tried that, and there’s barely enough room to fit one on the floor, let alone two.”
“If only you earned enough for us to have a first-class cabin, it wouldn’t be a problem,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.
“By the time I can afford that, we probably will be sleeping in separate beds.”
“Not a chance,” said Sam as her towel fell to the floor.
* * *
“Good evening, my lord, my name is Braithwaite, and I’m the senior steward on this deck. Can I say what a pleasure it is to have you on board. If there’s anything you need, night or day, just pick up the phone and dial one hundred, and someone will come immediately.”
“Thank you, Braithwaite.”
“Would you like me to unpack your suitcases while you’re at dinner, my lord?”
“No, that’s very kind of you, but I’ve had a rather tiring journey down from Scotland, so I think I’ll rest and probably skip dinner.”