Drama at Duhau

Afternoon tea at the Duhau is special beyond belief. After you have experience it you will contend that teatime each day should start with Champagne served by a waitress. Standing alongside, she pours it deftly into two flutes, pale amber with slow bubbles, the bottle label momentarily concealed by a white serviette. After she departs I lift it from its cooler to read the brand.

Were it otherwise I would have returned the Champagne and demanded Bollinger, particularly as it appeared that the Foreign Office was paying the bill, but this Chandon Brut is superb. An assemblage of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, with flavours of citrus, creamy peach and apples. By rights exhaustion from a fifteen hour flight should be kicking in, but instead the Argentine-made Champagne creates a sense of euphoria.

Moments later our waitress, Giannina, returns with a tower of ceramic and chrome bearing the tiniest sandwiches and little cakes, pretty beyond description. Of the choice of tea I have reverted to an old favourite, Earl Grey, whilst Xiomara hovers a finger over the Rare Rose Petal before selecting a Japanese Genmaicha because she likes the name.

‘Now tell me Xiomara, why is Lord Cameron - David - paying the tab for our tea?’

‘Well, Mr Bond’…. I stop her at this point. ‘Please, it seems you have requisitioned my digs, so less of the ‘Mr Bond’ - try James, its easier and makes me feel less like your uncle.’

‘Okay James, it’s like this: my father, Q -to you, was at Eton with David, and he is my godfather. Just simply that. But, before you start making assumptions, that’s not how I got this job.’

Given my run-around through Argenper, narrowly avoiding discovery, compared with the simplicity and effectiveness of Xiomara’s gothic adventure, I realise that she has all of the talent and guile required of an agent. But nevertheless I still ask the question, ‘On that topic, how did you get the job?’

‘When I lived with mother in Canada, I was Justin’s deputy head of security. The youngest ever, as it happens. And before you ask, no I didn’t sleep with him. I certainly wasn’t the reason he and Sophie split.’

I grin, ‘Clearly you know all about me,’ I interject, ‘And your dad will have filled in the gaps; but whilst you are springing surprises, is there anything else I should know?’

‘I don’t think so - James, except perhaps that M has offered me 003 - in memory of Johanna, both of us having qualified as surgeons,’ she replies.

Suddenly, everything becomes clear. Whilst in London I had bemoaned the prospect of acting as nurse-maid to a young rookie agent, the reality was that M has appointed Xiomara as a skilled professional, to look after me. I glance up to see her smile and catch my craggy reflection on her Champagne glass.

The pianist slides from Sondheim’s ‘Anyone Can Whistle’ to Jerome Kern’s ‘Ol Man River’ as the salon starts to fill with Americans. Ahead, towards Posadas, summer sun glances over the hotel’s private gardens. A flight of Canary-winged green-grey parakeets race by towards the Palo Borracho. Our conversation is over.

Suddenly, the sound of a loud explosion bursts through the salon. Smoke pours in from the corridor outside and our waitress stumbles through the doorway, her hands and face covered in blood. People in the room scream. A returning bell boy runs in to stop suddenly, his body blackened, his arm severed. Within a fraction of a second he falls to the floor, never to recover.

‘Out of the way, I’m a doctor,’ Xiomara shouts as she springs to her feet and rushes to the waitress, her uniform soaked and torn.

‘What happened Giannina,’ says Xiomara, ‘what was that, what did you see?’ she asks.

‘It was a bomb,’ she whispers, ‘it was amongst the luggage…a pink suitcase,’ she continues.

For a second my blood freezes. As Xiomara holds her, Giannina’s breath becomes shallower. ‘I saw the person that put it there,’ she croaks, ‘he was with a younger man. He was carrying a small dog - a Chihuahua.’

I look straight at Xiomara and she returns the gaze. My mind flashes back to London and the Ritz Rivoli Bar where Richard Hammond had given me a classified file. ‘Richard Alvarez and Jay,’ I say so that only she can hear. ‘Yes, I know them. But how do they know we are here?’

In the next episode we will find out more about Dr Alvarez, and surprisingly, a little more concerning Giannina!