‘But he looks nothing like me!’
‘Make-up can work wonders, Mr Grant. An actor like yourself knows that.’
‘Wonders? They’d have to photograph him from the top of the Empire State Building to make people think that’s me!’
With a hint of self-importance, Sir Lewis reassured him. ‘This is our job, Mr Grant. When our agents informed us in 1943 that Hitler had a plan to assassinate Winston Churchill, we engaged a certain George Howard Foster, known in the world of impressionists as the Great Foster, to impersonate the Prime Minister at various public occasions. No one ever noticed the difference.’
‘So who’s this guy? Is he a comedian as well?’ asked Cary, still looking at the photograph.
‘No. He sells second-hand cars in Montreal. His name’s Jean-Jacques Bondurant. He sometimes impersonates you at parish festivals and in Christmas pantomimes.’
Cary laughed again.
‘And when is this “mission” supposed to be taking place?’
‘In the spring. We would fly you to London in a military plane, and from there on to Yugoslavia.’
There was a long pause. Sir Lewis appeared to be meditating on what to say. In the end he found the right words. ‘Mr Grant. The last message that Admiral Nelson delivered to the fleet before the battle of Trafalgar was: “England expects that every man will do his duty.”’ He sighed and added, ‘I would ask you to give our proposal serious consideration. It would be an inestimable service to the cause of the free world.’
Cary smiled and reflected that the tone of the phrase was too pompous. Rhetoric entirely in keeping with a grey officer of Her Majesty’s Secret Service.
Chapter 15
Bologna, 31 January
Strips of daylight filtered faintly through the half-open shutters. Brando’s flat was on the first floor and the window, overlooking the footpath, was far from private. In any case, Angela would have been worried at the top of Bologna’s massive Torre degli Asinelli.
‘But if your husband asks you which scene you liked best in the film, what are you going to tell him?’
Pierre gathered up the clothes scattered on the floor, and turned around to hand her her blouse. Angela was slipping on her stockings. He went over to her and started kissing her on the neck and caressing her.
Angela put on her skirt and sat down on the edge of the bed.
‘I’ve never asked you why you and Nicola didn’t go to Yugoslavia too.’
Pierre didn’t like talking about it. But there was no point trying to hide things from Angela. ‘You know,’ he began, ‘my brother was already grown up, he had a job, he’d been in the Resistance in Italy, he’s not the kind of person who likes change. I was just thirteen. My aunt Iolanda had brought me up from the age of five, I was fine with her and I had started working in a factory as well. My father didn’t know whether I would be happy in Yugoslavia. With Aunt Iolanda they thought I would make my mind up when I was bigger, and that was ok too.’
Some women’s laughter reached them from the street. They had stopped just underneath the window. Angela suddenly froze and fell silent. The tenants of the building might grow suspicious if they heard unfamiliar voices in Brando’s flat. The women were almost shouting. They burst out laughing again, and then their voices moved away. Angela relaxed and repeated the question.
‘Why didn’t you go and find your father?’
‘Oh, you know!’ Pierre spread his arms out. ‘I’ve been setting money aside since I was little. But I wasn’t given a passport. And then there’s the fact that we haven’t heard from him for almost a year.’
Angela realised she had touched a raw nerve. ‘How do you mean?’
‘He used to write, we stayed in contact, often, but there was something else as well, that sense that you’ve still got at least one of your parents. He asked questions, he took an interest in us. Then, all of a sudden, it stopped.’
‘Do you think something terrible’s happened?’
‘Listen, if he was dead, surely he would have had a friend who would be willing to tell his sons, don’t you think? I don’t believe he’s dead, but I’m sure he’s having problems of some kind.’
All of a sudden the fridge started humming.
‘My husband and his friends say that Tito is a traitor.’
‘Of course they do, he’s the only communist who quit Stalin.’
‘Did your father ever meet him?’
‘You bet! He was made a hero of the people by Tito in person.’
The darkness erased the outlines of the room. In the light from a match, Pierre’s face lit up for a moment, then all that remained was the glow of his cigarette. Short days. Halfway through the afternoon the sun disappeared, the streetlights spread a yellowish light through the fog and bicycle dynamo-lights were switched on.
‘I’ve really got to go now.’
‘When will we see each other again?’
‘Don’t ask, Pierre. Odoacre may be going to Rome on Tuesday, I don’t know.’
‘Fine. If you can, send Teresa to tell me about it. We’ll have to be able to tell Brando so we can have his flat.’
They set off towards the door and Pierre helped her on with her coat. He kissed her and stroked her hair, and they exchanged a long kiss, almost like one in a film. Then Angela passed through the door and he heard her going down the few stairs to the door. Through the gap in the shutters he saw her passing quickly, her handbag clamped under her arm. He bade her a silent goodbye, turned the light on and tidied up the bed.
Before he left, he went into the bathroom and used Brando’s brilliantine to slick back his hair. He looked at himself in the mirror. What kind of situation had he got himself into! The young wife of the great and meritorious comrade Montroni.
It was less cold outside, and the snow was melting into dirty slush.
Chapter 16
Statement given on 1.2.1954 to Police Commissioner Pasquale Cinquegrana by Salvatore Pagano of unknown parents, held on a charge of stealing an expensive television set of American manufacture from the military base of the Allied forces in Agnano, Naples
Excuse me, but this time I really don’t understand. What’s all this about a slap? Yes, of course I know Don Luciano. Who doesn’t? I’ve already told you that Agnano is my second home, almost my first one, and Don Luciano goes there too, and everyone knows him, you can’t help it, go and talk to the jockeys, the bookies, the people in the bar, the waiters. They all know him. And you’re saying that someone’s supposed to have slapped him, on the day when I was there too, the 3rd of January, when I won those 5,000 lire with the bet on Monte Allegro. Are you absolutely sure? Look, apart from anything else, this business has nothing to do with that other stuff about the American television, nothing at all, and if I knew anything I’d be happy to tell you, but unfortunately I didn’t see anything of the kind, and I didn’t hear anyone talking about it either, and people would have been talking about something like that in Agnano, you can be sure of that. And who’s going to give Don Luciano a slap? Everyone loves him.
A slap? Listen to me, if someone slapped Don Luciano he certainly wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale, if you follow me. Do you not see that? Ok, look, I only know Don Luciano by sight, as you might say, and he’s a really great bloke, but there are some other people who criticise him and say that he does terrible things, just because he’s a foreigner, that is, he is Italian but he comes from New York, and it’s really easy to take against him. Then his friends, the ones who help him get by, they got annoyed, in fact they got really furious, because they love Don Luciano. And in the end, if anyone really did slap him, those guys don’t like it, and you know how these things go, in fact maybe they go and get him, the low-life, to tell him to stop doing it, to tell him that this thing has caused them a great deal of grief and maybe he gets on his high horse and who do you think you are, and who’s your mother, and who’s Don Luciano. Then off you go, maybe you come to blows rather than being able to talk about it calmly, and the man on his own takes more than he gives because there’s more of them. Afterwards, he doesn’t come and talk to you, number one because he started it, he gave the slap and provoked the people who came to talk to him. Secondly, because he’s now furious as well, and if he has friends he sends them to speak directly to Don Luciano’s friends, not to you, and they try to resolve the matter in a gentlemanly fashion.