From Fitzroy's Private Diary (Extract 151)

Alice doesn’t like Cairo. She didn’t enjoy the journey here and finding a blazingly hot and crumbling city with less than the usual amenities didn’t delight her either. I thought she seemed a bit off colour and I kept her in the shade, plied with liquids that were safe to drink.

It’s not like she’s complained. She hasn’t. She knows how vital Africa is to the war, and she knows how much I wanted to meet the British Intelligence chief here. I mean, she didn’t even comment when he and I hit it off about as well as lemon juice and milk. He’s very clever, crafty, and cunning, but totally bound up in his own propaganda, fantasies and lies. He’s not the least bit like myself who, along with the planning, has always dealt with the more physical aspects of the job. The kind of missions that Alice and I excel at.

She’s not bothered by him. She says his mind is rather interesting, in a sort of Alice in Wonderland kind of a way. I really don’t believe she could have made a more ironic comment.

Still, there’s a good bit of dancing and dining to be had here among the madness, and I’ve relished getting some time to indulge in that. Alice, surprisingly, was less than keen.

Then, this morning, all became clear. I can’t say I’m sorry to have a good excuse to leave this place, but the reason for going is as terrifying as it is delightful.