Bond makes his way to Palacio Haedo - the long way.

I rest my leather flight bag on a row of metal seats bolted to the floor by Argenper when they occupied the office, and enter the keypad code to open a small door positioned between two tinted security windows. It leads to a counter surmounted by computer brackets and disconnected camera cables. Wires lay across the floor and an empty encrusted paper cup stands against the screens. Beyond the counter is yet another digitally protected door that leads to the main office.

This room suggests that Argenper left in a hurry. Redundant office equipment has been left behind together with a working kitchen - kettle, toaster and coffee machine; and a small furnished rest area. I seize a discarded Clarin baseball hat from a peg outside the bathroom and make my way to the rear door, pushing the security bar open and allowing it to slam behind me. A dark corridor and staircase leads up to the ground floor. There I cross a enclosed courtyard and exit into San Martin by Edificio Arg-Group.

As a young agent my first posting was to Buenos Aires, and this office was a front for the Secretariat. PM James Callaghan wanted information on the Argentine military junta that from March 1976 until December 1983 controlled the Presidency. In these years nearly 9,000 political activists, the ‘Desaparecedos’, were disappeared by the Argentine government. Margaret Thatcher was elected UK Prime Minister in May 1979, by April 1982 Britain was at war with Argentina over the Falkland Islands and I was withdrawn from the field.

Now, it seems, Lord Cameron (David) has been pestering M to return British agents to Argentina. Newly elected President Milei - the one wielding the chainless chain saw - has taken on the left-wing socialists, the Peronistas, the Cristina Kirchner lunatics, the unions and the poor with a view to making Argentina great again. David pledged his support, talking of swapping banking for beef (in which we clearly get the best deal). Rishi wanted to know about the Chinese space station in Neuquén Province and the floating nuclear power station(s) of Rio Gallegos. And so it is our job to find out what exactly is going on!

Palaceo Haedo comes up suddenly as you walk from the east. At first you will think it just a tower - slim and delicate, trapped between Alvear and Santa Fe. As you get close you see it in its full architectural majesty and antiquity. Just months ago the tarpaulins and scaffold came down to reveal restored magnificence. A bonus for Buenos Aires - but a loss for the likes of me who loved it for its shambolic decrepitude.

Somehow, nobody really knows why, Horacio has retained his job as lodge attendant. He spots me on his new screens before I enter the building, ‘Senor Bond, you back!’, he calls as he extricates himself from his swivel-rocker and rushes from his office.

‘Yes, Horacio, they have sent me back to check on you’, I quip. He smiles. I wonder whether he has understood either the words or the humour. But he is pleased.

As I cross the hallway to the lift a black cat races across my path.

‘Is that Cleo?’ I shout. ‘Yes, Cleo, he too is old…es catorce!’ Horacio responds.

As I open the lattice doors to the vintage lift clack open, I wonder to myself what exactly Horacio was trying to tell me?

In the next episode Bond renews his friendship with Raul and tours the new estate.