Even a world war could put an end to the traditional Roman four-hour break for lunch and siesta. Count Galeazzo Ciano arrived by car on that sleepy early afternoon while most Romans were still enjoying their midday meal oblivious that a world war was taking place just hours away in North Africa. The meeting was to take place at a safe house operated by SIM (Servizio Informazioni Militare.) The foreign minister had managed to seize control of a key branch of military intelligence in a Byzantine arrangement that Mussolini had reluctantly agreed to back in 1937. That decision had greatly facilitated the assassination of anti-Fascists Carlo and Nello Rosselli in France, an operation that Ciano had entrusted to a branch of the service created for the purpose of carrying out assassination in foreign countries.
One of many luxury apartments operated by SIM was in a stately building in the Via Boncompagni off Via Veneto, almost immediately behind the American embassy. Four bodyguards in civilian clothes accompanied the foreign minister. Two of them took positions at the foot of the stairs inside the building while the others quickly ran up ahead to clear the staircase, the elevator and landings of any unwelcome bystanders. Ciano, elegantly dressed, wearing a straw hat, a false mustache and sunglasses, quickly followed up the staircase to the second floor. The apartment was furnished in fashionable art deco style: heavy dark wood furniture, chandeliers, thick curtains and reddish Persian rugs, the choice of furniture clearly lacking a woman’s touch. The apartment was used mostly for the entrapment of important foreign visitors with an assortment of beautiful women employed by the espionage service, a Fascist version of Nazi Berlin’s “Salon Kitty.” Bugs and cameras were hidden everywhere. The foreign minister had personally approved all the arrangements, down to the last detail, especially where the human element was involved.
Ciano checked the bar and poured himself a glass of vintage French cognac. He insisted on arriving early to make sure the security team had enough time to carefully comb the premises and the approaches to the building. He still felt nervous about being in the presence of a notorious murderer such as Vito Genovese and opted to keep one bodyguard present in the room, just in case. Ten minutes later the door opened and the commendatore entered in a tailored white linen suit and two toned shoes. He was a rather stout and smallish man, shorter than Ciano and a bit older with a tough leathery face with a cynical smile on his thin lips, but with amazingly graceful manners and an almost comical old-fashioned formality. When they shook hands he gave a little bow and Ciano caught the intrusive fragrance of the particularly pungent cologne the American gangster was in the habit of dousing himself with.
“Thank you for coming, commendatore.” Said Ciano, as he sat on the couch.
“The honor is all mine, Your Excellency. I am always entirely and devotedly at your service.”
Genovese carefully swept off his sunglasses with a broad smile and sat in an armchair at an angle with the couch. He looked more like a prosperous small town businessman than a cold-blooded assassin.
Ciano wasted no time,
“Let me get right to the point, my dear commendatore. We have a few concerns in America. Some people in the Italian community remain a problem for us. We need to wipe the slate clean of all that bothersome riff raff.”
Genovese was all ears and never stopped smiling.
“Any person bothering you also bothers me, Your Excellency.”
He said this with a smile and an emphatic and very Neapolitan gesture bringing both hands across his chest.
Ciano pursed his lips and couldn’t help thinking that both Genovese’s words and gestures were utterly grotesque. He took a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Don Vito who nodded and smiled as he read the four names. He shook his head slowly and very theatrically imitating a well known comic actor. Suddenly Ciano became nervous and asked.
“Commendatore, do you have a problem with any of those names?”
Genovese returned the paper to the foreign minister and Ciano now discovered the cold deadly look in the gangster’s eyes and the delicate, almost feminine way he rubbed his hands as he spoke.
“The problem, if there is one at all, concerns only one name out of the four. The other three you can consider as good as already ‘buried,’ shall we say?”
“How long will it take?”
Genovese smiled knowing that he was about to surprise the foreign minister.
“By the late fall when the chestnuts are again in season, if all goes well, naturally, the mission should be accomplished. The weather is very warm in New York. For the people on your list it will become hot as hell!”
They both laughed and Ciano poured Genovese a glass of champagne. They chatted for some time and the gangster finally picked the right moment to introduce his own wish list. He was careful to word his request as politely as possible to avoid offending the foreign minister.
“Your Excellency knows that transportation has become a nightmare because of the war. I have such a problem right now. A shipment of very valuable merchandise is stalled in Turkey, in Izmir to be precise. It should already be in Tangier. Such a waste!”
Ciano didn’t need a picture to understand what was expected.
“How large a shipment is it?”
“Several hundred kilos in wooden crates. No more than eight crates in all.”
Ciano thought for a moment. Izmir was just off the Italian Islands in the Aegean Sea, an area he knew very well as an air force pilot.
“Commendatore, if your objective is to get the merchandise to Tangier there is a very simple solution. If once the crates are on the island of Kos the problem is solved. Arrange for the merchandise to be delivered to Bodrum where we can pick it up at night. I will have a military plane fly the crates to Spanish Morocco. Tangier as you know is currently under intense scrutiny since Spain occupied it last year. Fortunately the Spaniards are our great friends and I can ask them for just about any favor. The British fear that the Straits of Gibraltar could be closed to their shipping and the Royal Navy. The Americans have a few spies in the area as well. And the Germans are naturally also very active. However we have the advantage of our brotherly relations with General Franco.”
Genovese was dazzled by Ciano’s description.
“Your Excellency has outlined a brilliant solution. I can get the merchandise to Bodrum in about ten days so there is plenty of time to prepare.”
The meeting was about to end and Genovese extracted a silver cigarette box from his pocket and handed it ceremoniously to the foreign minister. Ciano opened the box and recognized the tubes of white powder he often used.
“For your Excellency with my deepest gratitude.” Said Genovese bowing ceremoniously once again.
Ciano smiled and stuffed the small box in his pocket. He was now in a hurry to conclude the meeting since an agreement had been reached on a specific plan.
“Well, very good! Commendatore, have someone contact Colonel Mauri on my staff and work out the details with him very confidentially.”
“I am very grateful Your Excellency!”
They rose and shook hands. Vito Genovese was elated as he left. He had achieved a major coup in solving his transportation problem for a very large shipment of heroin from Izmir to Tangier and from there into the United States, through Cuba. The exact itinerary was adjusted as required at each major stop. It meant millions of dollars in profits that were most welcome in the middle of a war that was strangling business everywhere.
Ciano left through the service entrance ten minutes later after sniffing a pinch of white powder from one of the little tubes. The foreign minister was pleased with the generous supply of pure cocaine. Later that afternoon he told Mussolini over the secure phone line that the Italo-American “enemies” of Fascist Italy would be quickly dispatched by local “experts.” The Duce made no comment and changed the subject.
On July 1 Commander Ferri was unable to commandeer a third P.108 transport plane.
“All our forces are committed to the Russian front. The only available transport plane is on an urgent mission. That’s all I can tell you, Commander.”
Ferri reported back to the Admiral who was immersed in targeting hundreds of Soviet vessels and installations in the Black Sea. Admiral Calamai made some inquiries of his own and found out that Colonel Mauri of SIM had requisitioned one P.108T for an emergency round trip to the Aegean. Calamai knew that Mauri was Ciano’s man and that Mussolini’s son in law was completely “untouchable.” Nevertheless he needed a third plane as back up and his mission orders were signed by the Duce himself. So Calamai paid Col. Mauri a personal visit.
“My dear Admiral” said Mauri with the condescending smile of someone aware of his powerful political backing. “I have my orders and they are just as urgent as yours. There is a bad shortage of transport planes since this Russian business began…perhaps we can accommodate each other. My mission is starting a few days earlier than originally planned. I can get the pilot to fly back in time to connect with your team and continue to North Africa. If you agree to a short delay, we can do it.”
Calamai was surprised to hear that there was a parallel mission to Spanish Morocco. Could that be a simple coincidence?
“We’ll need at least two days to work on the plane. What is the final destination of your merchandise, Mauri?”
“No idea, my dear Admiral. Truly, none at all!” he said with that same irritating smile knowing that the Admiral wouldn’t dare insist since everyone knew who Mauri actually reported back to.
They coordinated dates and times. The Admiral couldn’t help wondering what Ciano could possibly be flying from the Aegean to Tetouan on an emergency basis at the expense of more than one military mission but given the many rumors surrounding Mussolini’s son in law he could just imagine what it could be. There was still more preparatory work ahead including setting up the air strip for the planes to land outside Macau, north of Natal in northern Brazil, and that was also a rather complicated operation.