Danger over - for now!

Was the disposal of Dr Richard Alvarez and his partner Jay an unqualified success?

Norm had arranged for a fake ‘action log’ detailing our group’s movements to be leaked from the ‘Factory’ at locale 299 to the Chinese listening station situated in Bajada del Agrio, Neuquén Province. From there the information was passed to the National Directorate of Intelligence (Peru) and on to their agent Richard Alvarez. He had taken the bait, believing that Giannina would be unprotected and vulnerable at Salon Canning, no doubt to be disappeared.

Meanwhile, Lord Cameron together with Javier Milei and Diana Mondino had arranged for bar staff at Canning to be replaced by Argentine agents, and it was they who had removed Jay’s body via the kitchens into an awaiting van. Whilst our existence in Buenos Aires was clearly known, the identity of assassins remained obscure. Finally, you will be delighted to know that the Clarin headline came directly from a ‘Jaime Vínculo’ who purported to be a spokesperson for Milonga Parakultural.

The carrier drops us in Santa Fé for our return to Palacio Haedo via Marcelo Torcuato de Alvear. Thirty minutes later we are gathered in the roof garden, Norm straight from the shower and still drying his hair, Raul with two bottles of Chandon Brut, Xiomara spread out on a lounger and Giannina reunited with Ghost.

Dawn light creeps across the river Plata casting a morning shadow of General San Martin’s monument in the plaza below. The air is fresh. A flight of parakeets lands to squabble in the palms, drowning out the sweet song of the rufus-bellied thrush that sits habitually in an Acacia tree on the terrace.

‘What now?’ asks Giannina, who seems to have been soothed by Ghost’s attention. ‘Am I to go back to Hotel Duhau?’

Xiomara scowls. ‘Your MOD authorisation continues until M decides otherwise. For me, you stay a part of the team!’

‘Oh, and I will see if we can get a 00 canine code for Ghost,’ she adds. ‘Who knows, he too might need a licence to kill!’

Salon Canning

Salon Canning is the iconic venue at which you must, at least once in your tango journey, dance Argentine tango. It is where the old milongeros meet, fashionable tourists come to strut or gape, Portenos arrange their business deals between tandas, and where dreams of romance are made - or dashed.

It is approaching midnight and the orchestra rearranges in preparation for the dance exhibition. Tonight two famous tangueros are to perform and the room is packed with mature dancers and onlookers. Each table bustles and bulges. Waitresses squeeze between them with bottles of wine and sparking water. Around the walls stand and lean the late arrivals who failed to secure a seat.

From my regular seat at the back of the room one particular table catches my eye. Not because there is anything distinctive about it, but due to the identity of its occupants. Seated at the front against the floor is Maria Cristina, the matriarch of MI6’s Argentine unit. She wears a deep slit scarlet tango dress. With her fan she creates a much-needed breeze. To her right a younger woman takes photos with her miniature camera. Cecilia, you may remember, is the missing undercover agent who made her reputation in Palermo as Buenos Aires’ leading tango portrait photographer. Behind her sits Norm who as we know, was ordered to remain in Buenos Aires following Lord Cameron’s departure. He pours Champagne into four of five glasses with such deliberate care so as to avoid spilling a drop. Finally, for the moment, against the wall sits Raul, our trusted caretaker gardener from Palacio Haedo. Elsewhere he would have seemed totally out-of-place, but for once he has jettisoned his old jacket, boots and battered gardening hat, has slicked brylcreem through his grey hair and now looks every inch an old milonguero.

Yet at their table one seat remains vacant despite requests from adjacent groups to give it up. It awaits its occupant - and at the very moment the orchestra strikes up she arrives, slipping in silently, to fasten her tango shoes surreptitiously beneath the table. Save for an absent Hotel Duhau uniform, she is immediately recognisable. Giannina!

I will spare you details of the tango performance, save that the audience was enraptured. It was Golden Age tango danced by two of the last living aficionados of the milonguero style. Their exhibition concluded with bouquets of flowers for her, a bottle of Malbec for him, and many kisses to both from the organiser. As they depart the pista, the orchestra plays a tanda of D’Arienzo to capture the energy of the moment.

In Buenos Aires, to secure a dance in tango, a leader must execute a successful ‘cabeceo’. This involves a glance from the leader, and an almost imperceptible nod from the intended partner which signals her agreement to dance three consecutive songs of a tanda. The cabeceo must be finely tuned. Done skilfully it avoids an embarrassing refusal and the walk of shame by a rejected leader as he returns to his seat.

Gazing around I spy her. She stands by the doorway - tall, slim, young, wearing a tight-fitting suit, her jet black hair cascading down her back. Immediately my glance is rewarded by her mirada acknowledgment.

‘They have just arrived,’ she whispers as we enter the pista. ‘Over by the bar, do you see them James?’ The black wig and dark makeup has totally transformed Q’s daughter Xiomara from a blonde English rose into a sultry Latino.

On our approach, Norm takes hold of Giannina’s hand to lead her to the floor. They enter the pista just ahead of us. As we pass Maria Cristina, she leans forward to slip an unseen object into Xiomara’s hand.

Progress on a crowded tango floor is inevitably slow, and another song passes before we reach the bar. It is a moment of tension. We can see that the regular barman has disappeared, to be replaced by a stranger. Standing against the bar alongside his Peruvian partner Jay, is the recognisable figure of Dr Richard Alvarez. He steps forward towards Giannina, but simultaneously Xiomara leans towards him and there is a click from a camera in her hand. Without warning, Alvarez stumbles. Saliva drains from his mouth and he falls heavily into the pista. Dancers stop to stare with horror. A voice calls for assistance. A group gathers about his prone body. Jay moves forward attempting to force through the gathering crowd. Whilst attention is focused on Alvarez, Norm slips in behind Jay, lifts a blade to his throat and there is a flash of steel.

It is impossible to know what then transpired as we made our way out through the back of the bar into Maipu and into the blacked-out Argentine police personnel carrier. Maria Cristina heads off in a Ford Falchion. Giannina, comforted by Cecilia, looks shocked. Norm wipes his blade on a rag and Raul exclaims, ‘Xiomara, what the hell is with that camera?’

‘Oh, its something that daddy Q insisted that I had before I left Blighty - just in case.’ ‘You know what he is like with his toys. Daddy couldn’t resist putting that dart in a camera lens for safekeeping. His instruction was ‘if you need it, just point and shoot!’

Clarin newspaper: Monday 23rd April

Buenos Aires doctor dies of heart failure at Capital Federal prestigious milonga

In the early hours of Saturday morning Dr Richard Alvarez collapsed and died of natural causes whilst dancing tango at Salon Canning Milonga Parakultural. His partner, Jay Alvarez appears to be missing. A dark haired female who took a photograph of the incident is asked to come forward. Foul play is not suspected.