The Vengeance of Rome (34 page)

I assumed he meant Maddy Butter. Or could Sarfatti have said something? I was struck by a thought: were they playing a game? Had Mussolini discovered the truth? Had the black dog's corpse been placed on my doorstep at his instructions? Had Maddy's accusations been believed? My left leg began to tremble. I knew a moment's terror. I needed to see Maddy, to find out what she had said. Was she back in Rome, her press assignment over?

‘You must be feeling a bit fed up.' He strolled over to the huge carved lectern on which was arranged an atlas almost as tall as himself. ‘Needing a change. Someone told me you're moving house.'

He had forgotten that he himself had suggested I move. I agreed that a change would do me good.

‘Maybe even a vacation?'

I had work to do for Italy. I had no more need of rest than did my leader.

This pleased him. ‘You are a true
fascisti
, Professor. A hard-working Renaissance man.'

‘You are my model and my ideal,' I said. I spoke only the truth.

He accepted this with his usual almost shy acknowledgement. ‘But it seemed to Signora Mussolini today that your nerves were a little bad. She remarked on it. And you know how much she cares about you. You are going to teach Bruno to fly. We need you in the best condition, Professor Peters. I, too, have a special interest in your health.'

I said that I was honoured. I had, indeed, experienced one or two minor personal problems, but these were all now behind me. A dead dog on my doorstep had not improved my mood. But I was ready to put my shoulder to whatever wheel Il Duce presented!

He frowned, thrusting his lower lip forward in that characteristic way. ‘Perhaps you need a break. A change of scene. Maybe our mutual interest could be served. I desperately need someone I can trust. There are so few. You are one of them.' He turned towards the enormous window, head low on his chest. A long pause. Then: ‘Professor, I want to offer you a very special assignment. I wouldn't even talk to the Grand Council about it. It can't go beyond these walls.' His brooding eyes fixed on mine. ‘It can only be between you and me. I want you to act for Italy.' He stepped back, as if to study his effect on me.

I could not respond. I stammered. I would do anything for him. Anything for my new nation.

He nodded, taking this for granted. He placed a hand on my arm. ‘You are certainly already aware that Captain Göring is Hitler's Special and Secret
Emissary. That is the identical rôle I have in mind for you. Are you prepared to leave Rome for a few weeks?'

‘If necessary, Chief.' This was something of a shock. I was a scientist, an inventor, not a secret service agent. But I had sworn an oath to obey my Duce to the death. I could not refuse. Moreover, if I was away from the city, I would have a chance to polish my flying skills before returning.

His expression confirmed his own trust in me. ‘It's not a pleasant mission. You'll have to mix with some obnoxious people. You'll be travelling to Munich and Berlin as my secret emissary.' He noticed my reaction. ‘The public knows nothing of your affiliations, you see. Only of your fame. Anyone else could not accomplish this. As an American film star you can go anywhere and not be under suspicion. The Nazi boys all know you, of course, and have a pretty good idea what you do. They'll be wanting to find out about our inventions. You will give them a hint and no more. It won't do any harm to exaggerate a little. It will be in your commercial interest as well as Italy's to let them believe we are further ahead with production.'

‘But what excuse could I possibly have—?'

He raised a silencing hand. He had thought of this, too. ‘Anyone who asks, you can say you're curious about the new political movements in Europe. Meanwhile, you will be Italy's eyes and ears. You speak German. You know Göring. In particular, you have the scientific and engineering experience to take a look at some of their own undercover projects.'

‘A spy, Chief?'

‘A special intelligence officer. Those Krauts plan to rearm if they come to power. They have some good people helping them. Göring confided all this to Margherita Sarfatti. They plan to make bombers disguised as commercial aircraft. They have half a dozen new aerial weapons ready for production. I don't trust them. Before we had our own weapons programmes under way, the Germans could be in Austria, then Italy. You know what they're like. They're promising revenge against us all.'

‘Excuse me, Duce,' I asked levelly, ‘but are you asking me to find some sort of evidence that Hitler and company plan to attack Italy?'

He became circumspect. He took me by the arm. He insisted: ‘I've told you. A foreign ambassador does not spy. But you are a loyal Fascist now. Should you discover information of use to this nation, you are honour-bound to relay it to us. That is all I ask you to do.'

I was confused. ‘But what of my work here? We are almost at production stage. We can't afford to have anyone discover what we're doing, surely?' I was genuinely distressed. Did he mean to abandon our engineering
projects? ‘The flying lessons for your son Bruno. Signora Mussolini might be disappointed …'

‘I am talking a matter of two months at most. While you are gone I will set the initial factory work in motion. When you come back you will be in a position to supervise an ongoing project.'

Two months would, it was true, give me a breathing space. I could use the time to my advantage. And if Brodmann were really in town, I would be able to leave before he realised it. No doubt the dead dog had been his idea. Seryozha, too, was becoming a serious embarrassment. Sarfatti was threatening to come back into my life. There were other looming complications. I was, of course, still hoping for a reconciliation with Maddy Butter.

‘My fiancée …' I began.

Mussolini scowled. He did not think this was a serious subject. ‘Women are easily come by. Most of them are whores at heart. You need to forget your American and look for someone as loyal as my Rachele. When you find her, marry her at once.'

I paused. I took his point. Moreover, I did not share his dislike of Germans, or indeed, of the individual Nazis I had met. To leave Rome for a couple of months and experience the vibrancy of modern German political life might be exactly what I needed. So much the better if I was performing an important personal service for my Duce. I was sure he would not let such loyalty go unrewarded. In addition, it would throw Brodmann off the scent. The dog, I was convinced, had been only a warning. Classic Chekist psychological warfare.

However, this led to another thought. What if I was captured and tortured for my scientific secrets?

Mussolini put his arm around my shoulders. Together we marched up and down the length of that huge room. He reassured me that such things only happened in fiction. Internationally known actors (and engineers) could not easily be spirited away. The community of nations would have something to say about it! The Nazis were anxious to improve their public image. ‘They will court you, but that is all to the good. You can sow the seeds of rumour about our secret weapons and that will be useful to us.'

He took my hand in both of his and stared into my eyes for a moment, as if filling me with some of his own resolve, his own inexhaustible courage. Others have mentioned his hypnotic powers, and I can vouch for them.

The few necessary arrangements had already been made with the Germans, he said. The present German government was viciously anti-Nazi and highly suspicious of Italian Fascists. Thus it would be unwise for
me to travel on my Italian passport. Could I use my American passport? Although I would seem to be on my own I need not worry. There would be an OVRA man looking out for my interests at all times. Göring had been put in the picture as much as necessary. He had friends in Berlin. Some were in the Reichstag itself. While it would not be wise to have too close a contact with the affable captain, he would be there if needed. Mussolini had thought this through carefully. I would also receive a regular allowance as a state employee. This would come in the form of payments from a publisher. ‘Göring has already spoken warmly of you, in spite of his well-known prejudices. He is, at root, a practical politician like myself. Not a rouge-using lunatic like his boss. They will, of course, suspect you. If you could, perhaps, obscure things a little, it would help. I'm not very worried about the German National Socialists. They won't increase their vote in the next election. But some of the Catholic nationalists will. The army is backing them. Those are the people to get close to, Professor. You're not likely to make many more friends in the National Socialists anyway. Apparently they are already bickering among themselves. Hitler's on his way out. They lack Fascist discipline. One week I hear Strasser's their “Duce”—the next it's Hitler again—or Röhm. They have as many factions as they have members. That's fine. Nobody wants the bastards to get too much power. But I need an idea of how much of their party is likely to listen to us. Are they really pro-Fascist? We don't know. I must admit I haven't heard good reports of any of them except Göring. Possibly the Strasser brothers. My guess is that Göring's the man who will eventually lead the party. Him or Gregor Strasser. Not his brother. He's too unstable. Of course, the whole country's unstable. There could be civil war before Göring, for instance, becomes the next Chancellor. He's their strong man. He's the only one an old fart like Hindenburg would trust. I'd bet Göring is letting the others fight it out. But there again, everything could change by next Tuesday. That's why I need a man like you there for a while. My eyes and ears, eh?'

‘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 Caffè 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.