"Michael Moorcock - An Evening at Home" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

There are no private jobs worth having any more, are there? It's the Crash."

At that moment, Ferucci, who had no love for me, but knew that I was a
particular proteg├й of the Duce, came over to murmur that our chief would like
to see me as soon as I could slip away. This was unusual, but I made it my
business to drop Seryozha, telling him I would see him later at the party.

I got to the Duce's side as soon as possible. It was clear he was making ready
to leave. He was shaking hands with Vich, the elegant Spanish military
attache, and seemed on excellent terms. He still refused to smile in public,
but there was a hint of a curve to his firm, ruthless mouth and when he saw me
he was clearly pleased. He did not want me to meet the Spaniard, however. He
almost pushed him away as he came to talk to me. He was in a particularly good
mood. I think the admiration of the German contingent was far greater than he
had realised. He had a confident, ebullient manner which was not always
present these days. "Professor," he said "we have some urgent business to
discuss."

I was mystified. He took me by the arm, as was his way, and began to lead me
back towards the private room, divided from the main hall by a velvet curtain.
Here all the guards were squadristi and sprang to attention when we entered. I
was particularly proud to be treated in this way and I knew that many of the
other Ministers there that night would have been envious. This was a public
confirmation of my status. Here was exotic food as well as drink. It was where
the Duce took his special guests, either to honour them or to speak with them
privately. "That was Colonel Vich," he said. "He has been authorised to
approach us concerning our project." The Duce explained that the Spanish had
seen the sensational reports in the papers of our Land Leviathan. I think
their own Secret Service had also done some research. Clearly they had had no
luck in stealing our plans and so they had approached the Duce directly, to
ask if these machines were in production and if it was possible to buy a
number for their own uses in North Africa. "This is good news! It will help
finance our own production.

"I, of course, told him we could not possibly discuss such things. I did not
even admit that we had a 'secret weapon'. Have you said anything tonight?"

"You have sworn me to secrecy, my Duce," I said. "It is enough." Mussolini
accepted this and approved of my loyalty. However, he argued, if we could
convince them to give one hundred percent backing to our project, without
their knowing it, we should be able to begin all the sooner. We need to show
them a couple of small plans, a simple picture or two. "Have you something --
a little something to whet their appetites?"

Still rather baffled by this change of attitude, I was silent when he asked me
to send him round he needed later. Then we could talk about it thing in the
morning.

I was in fact breathless with astonishment. Until now only the Duce and myself
had been privy to a dream to renew Italy through my inventions. Now there was