Telesio drove us to the airport in the Fiat, which still didn’t have a dent, though he hadn’t changed his attitude on obstructions. There were more people and activity at the airport than there had been on Palm Sunday, but apparently word had been passed along by the signor who had legalized us, for Telesio merely popped into a room with our passports and popped right out again, and took us out to a plane that was waiting on the apron. With tears in his eyes — which didn’t mean he was suffering, because I had noticed that they came when he laughed — he kissed Wolfe on both cheeks and me on one, and stood and watched us take off.
Since on our way in we hadn’t left the airport, I couldn’t say I had been in Rome, but now I can. A taxi took us through the city to the American embassy, and later another one took us back to the airport, so I know Rome like a book. It has a population of 1,695,477, and has many fine old buildings.
When we entered one of the buildings, the embassy, we were ten minutes early for our appointment, but we didn’t have to wait. A young woman who was fair enough at the moment but would have two chins in a few years if she didn’t take steps was obviously interested in us, which was natural, since Wolfe declined to give our names, saying only that we were expected by Mr. Courtney; and she had been briefed, for after a quick survey trying to guess whether we were CIA or just a couple of congressmen trying to be cagey, she used a phone, and before long Richard Courtney appeared, greeted us diplomatically without pronouncing names, and escorted us within, to a little room halfway down a long, wide corridor. Three chairs were about all it had room for without crowding. He invited us to take two of them and went to the third, which was behind a desk stacked with papers.
He eyed us. Superficially he was still a distinguished-looking college boy, but a lot more reserved than four days earlier. From the way he looked at us, he wasn’t exactly suspicious, but he intended to find out whether he ought to be.
“You said on the phone,” he told Wolfe, “that you wanted to ask a favor.”
“Two favors,” Wolfe corrected him. “One was to let us get to you without mention of names.”
“That has been done. I’ve mentioned your name, since you phoned, only to Mr. Teague, the Secretary. What’s the other one?”
“I’ll make it as brief as possible. Mr. Goodwin and I came to Italy on an important and confidential matter, a private matter. During our stay on Italian soil we have violated no law and committed no offense, except the minor one of being abroad without our papers. Our errand is satisfactorily completed and we’re ready to go home, but there is a small difficulty. We wish to sail tomorrow from Genoa on the Basilia, but incognito. The success of our errand will be compromised if it is known that we are sailing on the ship. From Bari I telephoned the Rome office of the steamship company and was able to reserve a double cabin in the names of Carl Gunther and Alex Gunther. I want to go there now and get the tickets. I ask you to telephone them and tell them it’s all right to let me have them.”
“You mean to guarantee that you’ll pay for them when you get to New York?”
“No, I’ll pay for them in cash.”