They met as arranged in the bar of Rome’s Hotel Hassler at two o’clock.
Edmund Playfair, in his impeccable dark blue Savile Row bespoke suit, uncoiled himself when he saw Gyles approaching, and stood. He had chosen a seat with his back against the wall so he could watch who came through the door. It was tradecraft as much as a measure dictated by necessity. The bar was crowded and Edmund was sitting in a far corner. “Gyles,” he said, as he stood and watched the correspondent bear down on him. “Good of you to come.”
They shook warmly and settled in.
“Not at all, Edmund. I have news, of course. God, it’s good to be back!”
“That bad, was it? I’m anxious to hear what you have to say. Care for a drink?”
“Thank you, no.”
“Suit yourself. So tell me, how did you find my daughter and things in Asmara?”
“Troubling in both instances, though I believe I may have met a source whom we might recruit—a reliable asset.”
“Splendid. Sketch it for me now and tomorrow I’ll have you down to the embassy for a full debriefing. Can’t be too careful here. Always have to worry about eavesdroppers and lip readers, you know.”
“Quite right,” said Gyles, though he didn’t believe a word of it. He had listened to Edmund for years concerned when out in public about being observed or listened to by this or that foreign agent of a hostile power. He had never understood the need for the exaggerated caution; lip readers, indeed. When had Edmund ever spotted a lip reader and how could one even be certain? “I gather my source didn’t call you.”
“Call?” Edmund looked alert. “Was he supposed to?”
“Our agreement was he would think about it and confirm if he was willing to move ahead.”
“Well no call, not yet old man, sorry.”
Gyles sketched his meeting with Rodolfo Geraci and his assessment of the potential agent.
The intelligence officer nodded in agreement as Gyles made his case when Edmund tapped his finger repeatedly on the edge of the table. “Let’s not get quite so specific here. I see what you mean. He sounds promising, though, as with all of these types, only time will tell. A good piece of work though, Gyles. Knew I could count on you. We have a foot in the door now.” Edmund looked and sounded satisfied.
“If my instincts are still reliable, and I believe they are, I think he’ll see it through and cooperate so more about this tomorrow when I see you,” said Gyles. “We can hash it out then, Now Edmund, about Emilia.”
“Emilia, yes, how is she?” he asked sounding eager. “How did you find her I’m anxious to hear? Is she happy? And what about that Italian colonel of hers? What did you think?”
Gyles sat up and ignored the string of questions. “Let me come right to the point, Edmund. In my opinion your daughter’s not happy. In fact I would go as far as to say, she’s miserable.”
“Miserable?” Edmund looked troubled at once. “You don’t say. What distressing news.” He shook his head. “And quite unexpected given the reports we hear when she calls—not often, mind you. Go on then,” he said looking worried. “Explain yourself.”
“I was invited to dinner on one occasion with her and her husband and the next day Emilia and I had lunch.”
“I see. And I gather you heard a different story.”
“Quite, she’s cowed by the man—he’s overbearing and demanding, and she finds herself frequently on the defensive. Not my opinions alone, Emilia’s concerns as well. Furthermore, I should tell you I noted that same trait in her when I was in their presence at dinner that evening. She’s unhappy, Edmund, and trapped.”
“Trapped?” Edmund looked at Gyles with alarm. “Difficult to imagine.” He sighed deeply. “Not the news we were expecting, no, not at all. Don’t quite know how I’m going to soften the blow for Philippa. She’ll be upset, of course, as I am.”
“Look at it this way, Edmund. Emilia’s a grown woman and well aware of her situation. She’ll find a way out, if she has to.”
“Out? You don’t mean divorce, do you? Is that what you think she’s considering?”
“Perhaps. I didn’t spend enough time with her and even if I had...”
“A divorce would be unacceptable in Italy,” said Edmund. “She knows better than that. No, she married the man. She’ll have to stay the course, as do others in similar situations.”
“It’s becoming more common, Edmund.”
“Foolishness, and you of all people, single for a lifetime. I hardly think you’d know anything about marriage or commitment, let alone divorce. Now be straight with me. Did she hint at this?”
“Not in so many words.”
“I see, I see,” he mused. “Not putting words in her mouth, are you?”
“Not at all, Edmund. “It was unspoken on her part, or so it seemed to me.”
“Seemed, is hardly a definitive opinion. Still, your opinion is invaluable. What in God’s name will I tell her mother?” he said, his features drawn.
“I don’t know, Edmund.”
“Neither do I at the moment.” A thoughtful look came over Edmund’s face. “Never did like him—that husband of hers. There was always something about him, too clever by half and a widower at such a young age—suspicious to my mind. I had the Service look into his activities when he was in London at their embassy—but they found nothing. She died of pleurisy, it seemed. Rather strange for a woman of her age.”
“His wife?”
“Yes, Vitoria, I think was her name.”
“About him, then. Don’t like him because he’s Italian, I suppose?”
“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “We would have preferred a British son-in-law, of course, though there was never any interest there... Let’s move on, shall we? How did you find Asmara?”
“Surprisingly familiar in a colonial sort of way though, as you know, only my first visit.” He made an offhand gesture. “Mussolini’s idea of a colony so, of course all quite Italian, the people, the language, the enterprises, the way of life. Commendable, I suppose, if that’s what you’ve set out to do though of course I’ve seen it all before elsewhere: Tripoli, Benghazi, even Mogadishu. Funny thing, that, the colonial service must have a leitmotif they adhere to. It all looked quite familiar, as did the frame of mind of the people I met. Incidentally, and this is for your report to London, I never met a Britisher, not one while I was there. I inquired to be certain but no, no one could ever remember one. Mentioned it to a colonial service official I sat with. He confirmed as much. Likeable fellow gave me much of his time.”
“Helpful then. Good to know.”
Gyles nodded. “Opened some doors. Even arranged for me to view that teleferica tramway I had read about in the papers. Quite something.”
“Yes, the aerial tramway to the sea. I’ve read the articles, too,” murmured Edmund.
“Impressive bit of engineering.”
“For the army to use. I have it on good authority said Edmund. “Despite what Mussolini would have us believe, all that nonsense about transporting food and supplies to the good citizens of Asmara. It’s a smokescreen. He wants a quick and efficient way to resupply the army. He’s worried about the Ethiopians breaching the borders again.”
“Asmara is already an armed camp in many respects,” said Gyles remembering what he had seen. “Thousands of troops stationed there braced for something.”
“Mussolini can’t risk another Ethiopian war. I don’t blame him. Look, Gyles, while we’re on the subject. The port city of Massawa. I was hoping you could have made a side trip there. Did you?”
“No time to do it justice, Edmund. Would have taken a few days to look around, ask questions, get acclimated, the whole Asmara thing all over again.”
“Pity, though I see your point. Look here so you know. I want you to plan a visit there soon. You’ll remember I mentioned before you left Rome the Admiralty was pressuring me to put a man there, a ship spotter. Concern, of course, is keeping an eye on Mussolini’s Red Sea Fleet.”
“They’re home-ported there, yes, that’s right. I read that somewhere.”
“Well it’s now a priority for the Service, too. London advised again wanting to know if you’d looked around. I’ll have to say no, of course. So find the time to help us out, old man, would you? Can’t force you to, of course, I’m well aware...”
“I’ll do what I can, Edmund.”
“Good, you see the Admiralty is dispatching the Commander-in-Chief of the Ceylon Royal Navy East Indies Station to Rome for talks with me.”
“Whatever for?”
“He wants to talk about Massawa. We have trading interests to protect in that part of the world. The Royal Navy patrols the Indian Ocean, the Persian Gulf, and the Red Sea, as does the Italian fleet. So we want to make sure we always have the upper hand. Intelligence about their fleet’s movements would be invaluable, hence a ship spotter in Massawa is vital.”
“Hm, yes, I see. Bit of a tall order,” he sighed.
“This C-in-C wants to come and twist my arm,” said Edmund beginning to grumble. “Make sure we understand how important it all is. I can tell you I don’t need the bloody Admiralty telling me what to do and have London cabling me to do his bidding.”
“Unfortunate situation.”
“Difficult. Well, it’s not your concern so let’s move on. I want to concentrate on reeling in this Asmara operative of yours. SIS business first, I’ll deal with the navy later.”
“What’s your opinion, Edmund? You’re the intelligence officer. Perhaps I should I call and learn what he’s thinking? Nudge him along, if that’s what he needs.”
“It may come to that but, no, not yet. I want to mull over what you’ve told me, and hear your further details tomorrow.” Edmund glanced at his watch and uncrossed his leg. “Have to leave you.” He stood. “My office in the morning nine o’clock?”
“Right.”
“Good, and welcome home.” Edmund placed some banknotes on the table. “You know the drill. Give me fifteen minutes, would you?”
Gyles nodded, sat back down and for a moment watched Edmund weaving through the room before he disappeared. His thoughts were jumbled as they often were when involved in doing Edmund’s bidding. Of course it was all about the money. The Service paid him exceptionally well for his assistance though he found he had much less time to pursue his reportorial interests. He thought about ordering a drink and instead lit a Dunhill and decided to think about Emilia. He wondered what she planned to tell her parents the next time she called. He hoped he had not spoken out of turn to her father. Above all he did not want to be quoted back to her. He saw their tryst for what it was, a sexual attraction in the purest sense though perhaps also something more. He didn’t doubt that in her emotional distress Emilia had sought him out, but at the same time hadn’t he taken advantage of her distress? The thought was troubling. He hadn’t been in a relationship with a woman for over a year and now he was becoming aware it was something he wanted again. The sex aside, he was awakening to his fondness for Emilia and wondered if he might grow to like her more if she were to ever move back to Rome, a single woman again. Right now though, despite what he had told Edmund, he couldn’t decide whether she would ever leave the colonel. It was an unanswerable question and one he found himself wishing he knew the answer to.