‘I am still a little confused, Chief. . .’
‘The Krauts need more money from me, of course. They are always begging for handouts. I want men like you there who’ll let me know the best horse to back. And I especially need to know any plans they have for rearmament. I can spare few men of your rank, my dear friend, or I wouldn’t ask this of you. I need a loyal Fascist, yet someone who is not evidently pro-Italian.’
I was flattered by the honour. I could not think what merited so much responsibility.
Mussolini told me Navarra had arranged money, documents and so on. I could leave whenever I wished. Perhaps tomorrow would be a good day. There were reservations for me on the Rome—Vienna train which would connect me with the Munich Express.
‘So soon?’ For a moment I had a suspicion he was getting rid of me. Why? Jealousy? Did he see me as a rival for his wife’s affections? For Sarfatti? For whom? But it was not in my nature to refuse this great man. Neither could I easily suspect him of lying. Weakly, I asked whom I should contact when I reached Munich.
He said that would not be a problem. Captain Göring himself would be my host as far as Munich. One of his people would see to my hotel and so on. All I had to do was to have my trunks packed. I should ask Navarra for help.
I had several other rather crucial questions, but now he became impatient, glancing at the floor, looking away from me, tapping his pencil against the table. He was in no mood to give further answers.
He hastened me towards the door. ’And don’t contact that journalist friend of yours. That girl. Maddy?’
‘Butter?’
‘She must know nothing.’ His expression once again grave, he wished me God speed. With tears in my eyes I promised he would have no reason not to trust me. Maddy? Was that why I was being asked to take a sabbatical from Rome? Was she suspect?
Navarra was waiting for me when I left. He steered me quickly to the secret exit. As I went out, I thought I glimpsed a woman very much like Maddy Butter coming in. Had she at last managed to get her interview with Il Duce? No doubt it was a trick of my imagination. But it would have been a queer irony.
In spite of Il Duce’s advice my curiosity got the better of me. When I returned to my office, to tidy up a few things, I telephoned Miss Butter’s apartment. I wanted to leave with her blessing. The telephone was answered by a maid. Miss Butter had a hairdresser’s appointment. She would not be back until that afternoon. I left no message. I could not risk seeing her personally. She might even be the one who had betrayed me to Brodmann and was indirectly responsible for the dead dog on my step.
She had still not returned by that evening. Then a uniformed valet and a team of squadristi arrived at work to take me back to the cottage. They wanted me to supervise the packing of my trunks.
I tried to telephone Signora Mussolini but could not get through. Just as I was dialling the number again, the phone went dead. The dolts at the phone company had turned off the phone a day too early.
Rather than waste time in useless fuming, I changed and took myself to the fashionable Gaffe Florentine for dinner. Once again I was ‘back in the dream’. I felt both excited and disturbed. I had been given no time to consider my decision. Admittedly, as one of Mussolini’s inner circle, I had sworn my oath and had a duty to abide by it. I must obey Il Duce’s orders no matter how mysterious they were. I had to admit I was curious to see Germany as she was now.
My misgivings suppressed, I ate a solitary meal. As I was finishing Balbo came into the restaurant. He saw me and grinned. Marching over, he waved to me, his decorations jingling. ‘I hear you’ve been exiled to Germany, Professor. She must be a bit above average, eh?’ He winked and leered. I had no idea what he meant. Repelled by his peasant coarseness, I did my best not to respond. He seemed envious of me. Had I been given an assignment he craved for himself or one of his cronies? I did not even bother to ask him who ‘she’ was. His suggestion was meaningless. He was jealous of me, I was sure of that. This made me feel a little better about my new duties. I merely smiled and let him think what he liked. He shrugged and went off to join some friends in an alcove.
I took an Armagnac in the bar. The place was now empty of most Fascist delegates. They had returned to their various constituencies. I saw Major Nye come in with Mrs Cornelius. I signalled to them, but they went past without seeing me. I looked for them in the restaurant but could not see them.
At that moment I felt suddenly isolated. A marooned sailor too weary to cry to passing ships. I could not understand why, with a new adventure ahead, I felt so depressed.
Why had I become so obscurely gloomy since discovering that dog? I remained disgusted by the kind of monster capable of such mindless cruelty.
I prayed I was wrong about Brodmann. I concentrated on plans for my new journey. I consoled myself. I was still serving the Fascist cause. I was content to assist my Duce in any way, even by going into exile, as Balbo put it. In no time at all, I thought, I would be back in Italy supervising the building of my Land Leviathan. Once my name was famous as an engineer I could travel wherever I pleased. I need no longer rely on my reputation as an actor.
TWENTY-TWO
Maddy Butter was still not home by the time I left for the Termini Station. No matter what time I phoned she was always out. Only when my luggage had been loaded and the squadristi had left could I sit back in my large comfortable seat and forget her. I had not planned to leave Rome. Considering the problems I would have to face if I stayed, however, this short ‘fact-finding’ vacation would do me good. Thanks to the sterling efforts of the young fascisti assigned to me, everything apart from my handbags needed for the trip was stowed securely in the luggage vans. I appeared to have an entire de luxe compartment to myself. Though for a couple of months I would be travelling undercover, I would still be travelling in style. Il Duce knew me better than I knew myself. My spirits were already improving. I became filled with that sense of joyful expectation which usually accompanied a new journey. Only when I was moving did I feel truly secure.
I looked forward to enjoying the company of my travelling companions. Mrs Cornelius and her Baron were on the train, though they planned to go on to St Crim. I sincerely hoped that Seryozha was not. I had no particular anxieties, save that Seryozha would get drunk and start babbling about our days in St Petersburg. I was surprised not to see any of the German delegation boarding.