I sat in the virtually empty bar of the hotel; the friendly old lady gently placed the teapot on the table, with a jug of milk and a ramekin of sugar
“Yorkshire gold Mr Sempleton, dobra? Signor Blanco and Robbiati will be along shortly”
I thanked her then straightened my tie ;( I had decided for such an important meeting my family tartan would be appropriate.) Before pouring myself some tea and finish the file on the history of Rio Grande that Don Blanco had got his secretary to type out for me. It had been an entertaining read and I had to say I was a fan of his secretary’s writing style, very floral I thought. The tea was excellent and had been accompanied by some delightful macaroons which I wolfed down, as I had forgotten to have breakfast in the excitement of a second meeting with the Don. I started to wonder what it was exactly he required of me, whatever it was he had told me that money was no object. Why had he contacted me? I thought for a second that maybe he had read my advert, but in it I had given no personal information and Signor Blanco already seemed to know everything about me, even the unfortunate incident with Mrs Jiggins and the Battenberg. I had stayed true to my word and kept my first meeting with the Don secret, omitting it from my daily report to headquarters, which I suspected they hadn’t even bothered to read anyway.
I stuffed the last macaroon into my mouth, the sweet rose scented cream exploding over my taste buds, as I bit down.
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