“Troy, meet me outside a property called ‘El Negus’. It’s in the north of the city on Avenida Libertador.”

The large wooden structure, known as El Negus, resembled a Swiss chalet far more than a typical Argentinian farmhouse. Its striking facade featured twin gable roofs complemented by exposed black-painted eaves. The first-floor level boasted a wood-spindled balcony running the entire width of the house. The property stood on an enormous plot and was set back from the road by a thirty-metre manicured frontage, as well as enjoying a two-and-a-half-acre garden to the rear. The mini estate was protected by a six-foot high white concrete wall that was only interrupted by a pair of ornate wrought-iron gates opening on to a maroon tarmacked drive. Just inside the gates, on the left-hand side of the entrance, stood a small painted wooden hut, housing a uniformed security guard who was brandishing an AK47 rifle.

Vargas and Hembury stood across the road, studying the imposing residence.

“Nic, are you sure this is right? It doesn’t look anything like the house we saw in the old black-and-white photos.”

“That’s because that farmhouse was demolished in 1970 after Braun died. The papers show that the property was sold by the Franklin estate to a Valentina Suarez, who knocked it down and built this monstrosity.”

“I quite like it, actually. A chalet fortress with hot-and-cold-running armed guards.”

Vargas smiled as he discreetly used his mobile camera to take a few pictures. “Let’s have a stroll to the back of the house and see what’s what. Hopefully, it’ll offer us a way in.”

An hour later, they were sitting at a pavement café table situated on the opposite side of the street, about fifty yards away from the front gates. It was the perfect spot to view any comings or goings, although so far nothing had happened at all.

Vargas drained his bottle of Peroni and placed it down on the table. “So, as far as we can tell, the house is only lightly protected by one armed guard at the front. But it raises an interesting question – what’s inside that needs defending by an AK47?”

Hembury was nursing a Diet Coke and dragged on the straw.

“It’s like the guard is there to make a statement to warn off potential intruders, but, in reality, the place is not exactly an armed fortress.”

They agreed they would wait until nightfall before paying an uninvited visit to El Negus. The plan was to scale the back wall and then find an entry route once they were inside the grounds.