1
IN APRIL 1972, Ermanno Ismani, a forty-three-year-old university professor of electronics, received a letter from the Ministry of Defense requesting that he meet with a Colonel Giaquinto, the head of the research and development division. To Ismani, a short, stout man with a cheerful but rather timorous disposition, the request appeared to be urgent.
Unable to even remotely imagine what it might be about, Ismani, who had always had an inferiority complex with respect to figures of authority, hurried to the ministry that very same day.
He had never been there before. With his usual ineptitude, he arrived in the waiting room unannounced. At once a uniformed orderly appeared, and asked the nature of his visit. Ismani showed him the letter.
As if by magic, after glancing at the paper, the guard became a changed man, having at first addressed him somewhat brusquely—shabbily dressed, his manner a bit awkward, Ismani seemed like someone to be underrated. Apologizing, the guard asked Ismani to wait a moment and hurried into a nearby room.
A second lieutenant came out, asking to see the letter. After reading it with a vaguely embarrassed smile, he then, with conspicuous deference, asked Ismani to follow him. What is it about this letter that’s so odd? Ismani wondered, quite intrigued. Why, after reading it, do they treat me as if I were a big shot? To him it had seemed like any ordinary official communication.
The same slightly apprehensive regard was displayed by other officers, of gradually increasing rank, in the successive offices through which Ismani was led. He even had the unpleasant impression that each of those officers, as soon as he saw the letter, had been quick to pass the matter on to others, men of higher authority: as if he, Ismani, though someone to be treated with all due respect, were rather problematic, if not downright risky.
Colonel Giaquinto must have possessed extraordinary authority, much greater than his rank would lead one to presume, so numerous were the barriers that Ismani had to pass through to reach him.
Giaquinto, a man in his fifties, dressed in civilian clothes, welcomed him deferentially. There’d been no need, he said, for Ismani to have rushed over. The urgency alluded to in the letter was merely a formality, standard for nearly all the practices of his office.
“Not to take up any more of your time than necessary, professor, I’ll explain immediately. Or rather,” and here he gave an allusive little chuckle, “rather I will present the terms of the matter that the ministry intends to propose to you. What it’s really about, I myself don’t know. In certain sectors, you, professor, will understand, exercising due diligence is never excessive. In fact, in that regard, I will point out that anyone else would have been asked for a precautionary pledge to honor the most exacting secrecy . . . but in your case, professor . . . your personal renown . . . your titles . . . your past military experience . . . your prestige . . .”
What is he getting at? Ismani wondered with a growing feeling of uneasiness. “Excuse me, colonel,” he said, “I really don’t understand.” The colonel looked at him, vaguely ironic, then stood up from his desk. Taking a set of keys from his pocket, he opened a massive metal file cabinet, pulled out a folder, and went back to the desk. “Here we are,” he said, consulting the typewritten pages. “Are you, Professor Ismani, willing to render a service to the country?”
“Me? How?” The suspicion that there was some gross misunderstanding seemed more and more likely.
“We did not doubt it, professor,” said Giaquinto. “Your sentiments are no mystery to those in high places. That’s exactly why we are relying on you.”
“But I . . . really, I don’t see what—”
“Would you be willing, professor,” the colonel asked in a different tone, enunciating
the words clearly, “would you be willing to relocate to one of our military zones for a minimum of two years, to participate in a mission of vital national interest, as well as extraordinary scientific value? As far as your position at the university goes, you would ostensibly be on official assignment with full salary, that goes without saying, plus a substantial emolument for the mission itself. I am not able to specify the exact sum but it would be somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty- to twenty-two thousand liras per day.”
“Per day?” Ismani exclaimed, dumbfounded.
“Plus spacious, comfortable accommodations, equipped with all the modern conveniences. The location, I read here, is extremely salubrious and delightful. Cigarette?”
“Thank you, I don’t smoke. But what does the work involve?”
“The ministry’s nomination itself, it seems to me, implies that your specific skills were taken into account . . . Once the mission has been carried out, of course, the government will not fail to substantially show its . . . also taking into account the undeniable sacrifice of residing—”
“Why? Wouldn’t I be able to leave there?”
“The very importance of the task—”
“For two years? And the university? What about my classes?”
“I can assure you—although I, as I’ve said, am uninformed as to the nature of the project—that you will be given the opportunity to do some exceedingly interesting research . . . Though to be honest I must add that there has never been any doubt here as to what your answer would be.”
“And with whom?”
“I am not able to answer that. However, I can mention a name, a great name: Endriade.”
“Endriade? But he’s in Brazil right now.”
“Yes, of course, in Brazil. Officially.” The colonel winked. “Now, now, professor, there’s absolutely no reason to be upset. You’re a little anxious perhaps, am I right?”
“Me? I don’t know.”
“Well, who isn’t anxious given the frantic life we lead today? In this case, I assure you, such feelings would be totally out of place. The proposal, it’s my duty to stress, is meant to be flattering. Then too, there’s no rush. Go home, professor,” he said with a smile, “go on with your usual life as if I hadn’t told you a thing . . . Understand? . . . As if you had never set foot in this office . . . Think about it, though . . . Think about it . . . Should you want, give me a call.”
“What about my wife? You know, colonel, you may laugh, but we’ve only been married a short time, less than two years.”
“Congratulations, professor,” the colonel said, wrinkling his brow as if considering a difficult problem. “However, it doesn’t necessarily mean . . . If you would personally vouch for her . . .”
“Oh, my wife is such a simple creature, so naïve, there’s no danger that . . . Besides, she has never been interested in my research.”
“All the better that way, I think.” And the colonel laughed.
“Colonel, before—”
“What is it, tell me.
“Before deciding one way or another, wouldn’t it be possible for me to . . . ?”
“Know more about it, you mean?”
“Well yes. Being asked to drop everything for two years without even knowing what—”
“Indeed, professor, on that point you will have to be patient. I can give you my word that I know nothing more than what I have told you. That’s not all. You may not want to believe this, but as regards the precise task that will be assigned to you, I’m afraid there isn’t a single individual in the entire ministry—not one, understand?—who is capable of telling you what it is. It seems ludicrous, I know. Not even the chief of staff, perhaps . . . At times the military’s top-secret machinery rises to the level of absurdity. Our job is to protect the secret. What’s concealed inside it, however, is none of our concern. Ah, but you will have time to find out all about it, all the time you want, in two years, I’d say—”
“Excuse me, then how did you happen to choose me, for example?”
“Us? It certainly wasn’t us. The recommendation, the suggestion came from the zone itself.”
“From Endriade?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, professor. It may have been Endriade but I don’t know that for certain . . . No, no, professor, there’s no hurry. Go back to your classes as if I hadn’t said a word to you. And thank you for coming. I don’t want to take up any more of your time.” The colonel stood to accompany Ismani to the door. “There’s absolutely no rush . . . But think about it, professor. And should you decide . . .”
2
THE PROPOSAL from the ministry plunged Professor Ismani into an abyss of trepidation. Had he obeyed his instinct, which inclined him only to peace and quiet, to the preservation of res sic stantes, to the regime of an unruffled, sedentary life, he would have answered no immediately.
But that same timidity led him to accept. A decent man if ever there was one, though the idea of being sent off to a mysterious destination for two years, on an assignment that perhaps might not suit him, under the onerous constraint of secrecy, among people he didn’t know (since he had seen Endriade, a luminary in physics, only a couple of times, in chaotic conference settings)—though the idea struck him with feelings close to terror, it was even more difficult for him to shirk what had been presented to him as his duty, as a citizen and as a scientist.
In the war he had been brave, but not because of a natural disregard for danger. ...
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