First to require his attention were the US Chargé and his pale aide, come to fit a new dinner jacket which the Chargé called a tux. Parked outside the shop stood his armoured Lincoln Continental manned by a stern driver with a crewcut. The Chargé was a droll, well-to-do Bostonian who had spent a lifetime reading Proust and playing croquet. His topic was the vexed matter of the US Families’ Thanksgiving Barbecue and Fireworks Display, a subject of perennial anxiety to Louisa.
‘We have no civilised alternative, Michael,’ the Chargé insisted in his brahmin’s drawl while Pendel chalked the collar.
‘Right,’ said the pale aide.
‘Either we treat them like house-trained adults or we say they’re bad kids we don’t trust.’
‘Right,’ said the pale aide again.
‘People respond to respect. If I did not believe that, I would not have devoted my best years to the comedy of diplomacy.’
‘If we could kindly bend our arm to the halfway mark, sir,’ Pendel murmured, laying the edge of his palm in the crook of the Chargé’s elbow.
‘The military will hate us,’ said the aide.
‘Are these lapels going to bulge, Harry? They look kind of busty to me. Don’t they to you, Michael?’
‘One pressing, you’ll never hear from them again, sir.’
‘Look great to me,’ said the pale aide.
‘And our length of sleeve, sir? About so, or a trifle shorter?’
‘I’m hesitating,’ said the Chargé.
‘About the military or the sleeves?’ said the aide.
The Chargé flapped his wrists, watching them critically as he did so.
‘So is fine, Harry. Do so. I have no doubt, Michael, that if the boys on Ancón Hill had their way we’d be seeing five thousand men in combat gear line the road and everybody bussed in and out in APCs.’
The aide gave a grim laugh.
‘However we are not primitives, Michael. Nietzsche is not an appropriate role model for the world’s only superpower as it enters the twenty-first century.’
Pendel turned the Chargé sideways so that he could better admire his back.
‘And our jacket length, sir, overall? A suspicion longer or dare we say we’re happy with what we see?’
‘Harry, we are happy. It’s tops. Forgive me for being a fraction distrait today. We’re trying to prevent another war.’
‘In which endeavour, sir, I’m sure we wish you all success,’ said Pendel earnestly as the Chargé and his aide tripped down the steps with the crewcut driver sashaying alongside.
He could hardly wait for them to leave. Heavenly choirs were singing in his ears as he scribbled frantically in the clandestine back pages of his tailor’s notebook.
Friction between US military and diplomatic personnel is reaching a highly critical flashpoint in the opinion of the US Chargé, the bone of contention being how to handle student insurrection if and when it raises its ugly head. In the words of the Chargé, spoken in total confidence to this informant…
What did they tell him? Dross. What did he hear? Glories. And this was only a rehearsal.
‘Dr Sancho,’ cried Pendel, opening his arms in delight. ‘Long time no see, sir. Señor Lucullo, what a pleasure. Marta, where’s that fatted calf then?’
Sancho a plastic surgeon who owned cruise ships and had a rich wife he hated. Lucullo a hairdresser with expectations. Both from Buenos Aires. Last time it had been mohair suits with double-breasted waistcoats for Europe. This time we just have to have white dinner jackets for the yacht.
‘And all’s quiet on the home front, then?’ Pendel asked, artfully debriefing them over a glass upstairs. ‘No big putsches planned at all? I always say South America’s the only place where you can cut a gentleman his suit one week and see his statue wearing it the next.’
No big putsches, they confirmed with a giggle.
‘But Harry, have you heard what our President said to your President when they thought nobody was listening?’
Pendel hadn’t.
‘There were these three Presidents all sitting in one room, right? Panama, Argentine, Peru. “Well,” says the President of Panama. “It’s all right for you boys. You get re-elected for a second term. But at home in Panama re-election is prohibited by our constitution. It simply isn’t fair at all.” So our President turns round and says, “Well, my dear, maybe it’s because I can do twice what you can do once!” Then the President of Peru says-‘