Wu Ming - 54

Cary drained his glass of Scotch. His double looked around in embarrassment. The knot of his tie was wider than it should have been, and his toupee didn’t hide all of his receding hairline.

Problems for Her Majesty’s Secret Service. If the trick was discovered, they would come up with something. That wasn’t for him to worry about. In fact, if Bondurant did his job properly, no one would think that Cary Grant had lost his style, that he had let himself go, wearing badly cut jackets and shoes that wrinkled in the middle.

‘What you’re wearing, Mr Bondurant, is that one of Cary Grant’s suits?’

‘What? No, Mr Grant. And how could I have got hold of one of your suits so —’

Seeing that her husband was getting into difficulties, Betsy interrupted Bondurant to avoid their relationship taking a turn for the worse. ‘No, no, you misunderstand. My husband was asking whether the suit you’re wearing was chosen to make you look like him, or whether it’s a suit that you wear regularly.’

‘Oh, I see. Of course, of course. They told me I would have to give some thought to my wardrobe. Of course. They just told me to follow your advice to the letter, without worrying about the expense, that they would take care of that.’

Cary held back a nervous twitch, and took some folded sheets of paper from his pocket.

‘I’ve listed here the characteristics that your suits must have, Mr Bondurant. I would ask you to follow this advice very carefully. I’ve already informed Sir Lewis Kennington of MI6 that I will not move an inch out of Palm Springs without first personally checking all your suits.’

For the third time, Bondurant’s eyebrow arched, wrinkling his forehead. His hands were not well manicured, and he wore a horrible gold ring. Cary felt like a director who had had an actor imposed on him by the producers for a part beyond his capabilities.

‘Get up, Mr Bondurant. I’ll show you what I mean by “control” of a suit.’

Grant’s double put his glass down on the table and got to his feet. He was at least two inches taller than his model.

‘You’ll find it all written on the sheets I’ve given you, but, just by way of example, there are three aspects of your attire that are incompatible with being Cary Grant.’

He turned around to the double and gripped the collar of his jacket between two fingers.

‘The collar of your shirt must always protrude from your jacket by about half an inch,’ he went on walking around, and came back to stand in front of Bondurant. ‘The knot of your tie should be tighter, like this, and must always hide the top button. Finally, your shirt sleeves should be longer, the cuff should rest on the beginning of the thumb.’

The lesson in elegance had restored Cary’s mood. He crossed his arms and studied the double with his torso leaning over to one side, like a sculptor looking at his own work.

He had a little mole beside his nose, and the enamel of his teeth was yellowing slightly.

‘Fine, Mr Bondurant. I think that with a little exercise, remembering all the advice I have given you, and avoiding opening your mouth, you will manage to deceive the whole district. Get in touch as soon as your wardrobe is ready, so that we can have a look at it.’

Betsy got up from the sofa as well and held out a hand to Bondurant.

‘Don’t be afraid, Mr Bondurant. Even if it’s usually my husband giving me advice about the way I dress, I’ll try to advise you as best I can.’

Their pleasantries were interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. Betsy went to get it as her husband walked his double to the door.

‘Oh, Alfred! How are you? I’ll pass you to Cary right now, he was just saying goodbye to a guest.’ She put the receiver to her chest and called towards the door, ‘Darling, it’s for you. Alfred!’

Cary strode back into the drawing room, arranging his tie as though he were about to meet someone.

‘Hitch!. Yes, not bad. Are you well?. Mhm, yes, I’ve read it. Look, I’m not entirely convinced. But I don’t think it’s anything to do with the script. It’s a good story, although I’d have liked a little more suspense. No, it’s the fact that I don’t yet know if it’s time to relaunch myself. Of course, no, absolutely, you’re the only one who might be able to convince me, I’ve always said as much. Em, I also have a few things to sort out. I’m going to be busy until the end of May. Yes, yes, the usual things. Oh, I don’t deny that the Côte d’Azur is an attractive location. Yes, we could go to the casino. Yes, that’s it. It isn’t the only attractive thing? What else is there, don’t be mysterious. Oh, my. Yes, yes, really fascinating, yes. Of course, I’ve seen her in Mogambo . Yes, you told me she was making a film with you, yes, two of them, that’s right. Extraordinary, isn’t it?. Oh, you’re piquing my curiosity, you really are. Ok, listen, I’ll think about it, yes. I’ll give you an idea in about ten days, ok? But nothing before June. Yes, fine, speak to you soon.’

He stood there with his hand on the receiver, too many thoughts running through his head. MI6, Yugoslavia, his double, the Hitchcock film. The active life wanted him back. Maybe he was really starting to need it. Two months away from home, a rather unique job, then back on to the set. Yes, it could work. Hitch’s favourite actress, absolutely beautiful, a sure thing. The return of Cary Grant and the definitive success of Grace Kelly.

‘Good news?’ asked Betsy, interrupting his reflections.

Cary realised he had been leaning on the telephone all the time.

‘Neither good nor bad. Old Hitch is trying to persuade me: the Côte d’Azur, his new film, Rear Window , which is sure to be a hit, the casino in Monte Carlo, the usual things.’

Well, not usual exactly. Grace Kelly exerted a fascination that was out of the ordinary. Cold and magnetic at the same time. If he had been Clark Gable, in Mogambo , Cary would have had no doubt about whether to choose Grace or Ava Gardner.

Hitchcock had scored an extra point. He knew Cary very well, and he knew Archie, too. He knew how to needle them both.

Chapter 22

Between Naples and Pompeii, 21 February

Zollo had other things to think about, but he couldn’t do it. There was no way you could think when Don Luciano decided to be hospitable, because his words flowed without interruption, one sentence after another, finally enveloping your mind until you found yourself following them whether you felt like it or not. The boss didn’t talk like ordinary mortals: it only looked like talking for talking’s sake; in fact his words were weighted and carefully chosen. Mixed in with all the idle chatter there was a certain amount of wisdom and a good dose of savoir faire . He monopolised the conversation without being rude, and flattered his interlocutor by skilfully forcing him to follow his train of thought.

‘Italy is a country where everything is yet to be done, my friends. Every now and again I feel as though I’m in the wild west. Like a prisoner, yes. Everything is yet to be built, there are great opportunities for anyone with the wit and the balls. As to myself, what do you expect, I’m a poor pensioner now who can’t make it to the evening without an afternoon nap. But for those with fresh blood, there’s enough to keep everybody busy. In Naples the people are hospitable. Now that there are more Americans than Italians. Sailors, officers, doctors, journalists. I feel as if I’m at home! The Italians, pal, may not speak foreign languages, but the Neapolitans do, they speak the lot! You know the history of this city? You don’t? Everyone’s passed through here: the French, the Spanish, the Piedmontese, the Germans and now the Americans. The Neapolitans aren’t used to being on their own. There’s always someone at home, always different people, different languages, new faces. And they have a very curious way of doing things, everything out in the street, everything in public. I lead a reserved life — who do you think is going to come and talk to an old man? — but I see everything from my armchair. I see it out on the terrace and from up there I watch the life of Naples passing below. Better than Cinemascope!’