Rome, 1 August 1916
The waiting room of the Special Case Department at the fourth floor of the War Ministry that the Military Intelligence Command was situated, called a gas chamber to mind. General Aldo Rossi was covered in the cigarette smoke that his men were puffing like maniacs. For an hour now, he’d been suffering from a terrible migraine and was begging inside for the meeting to complete before he collapsed in front of the best of Italy’s Secret Service. He hid his relief behind his arrogant airs, when he saw his men leaving and hurried to escape into his office. He shut the connecting door and dropped crashing onto his armchair. He definitely wanted one of those miracle-working American powder bags that soothed the pain. He found one in his drawer, asked for a glass of water from
