Lingering memories of the great statesman abound. In 1989, when the Second World Conference on Peace and Politics was held in Malta, following the first one in Assisi, Italy, two years earlier, the Comunita’ di Sant’Egidio asked me to chair the Malta committee charged with its organisation. Men of the cloth from the Catholic Church, including several cardinals, as well as from other Christian churches together with representatives of the other major faiths, with several rabbis and imams, convened for the three-day gathering. A number of eminent political leaders were also invited.

He pulled a small black book out of his jacket and asked me to dial quite a long number. After a few seconds somebody at the other end replied: ‘The White House’

Some days preceding the conference, I was informed that Boutros Boutros-Ghali, then Egypt’s Foreign Minister, wanted to come provided he could be assured of meeting Giulio Andreotti, then Italy’s Foreign Minister. Replying that no guarantee could be given, I insisted with Egypt’s emissaries that, if Andreotti confirmed his attendance, I was sure that a rendezvous could be arranged.

Andreotti confirming, and having immediately so told our Egyptian friends, I found out that both foreign ministers were arriving at more or less the same time.

No sooner had his plane landed than Boutros-Ghali asked me what time he was having his tête-à-tête with Andreotti who, on his part, wished to spend some time quietly at the residence of his country’s ambassador.

Boutros-Ghali insisting that he had to see Andreotti that very day, I persuaded the latter to come in the evening to the Mediterranean Conference Centre, where the convention was taking place, to say “hello” to Boutros-Ghali.

For security reasons, we were assigned the small chapel near the main ward of the former hospital and which also had a secure phone. Andreotti asked me to stay on.

A few minutes later, I ushered Boutros-Ghali into the room. After embracing his Egyptian colleague, Andreotti embarked on a tour d’ horizon of Middle East issues. Fidgeting like a school boy waiting for his headmaster’s verdict, Boutros showed little interest in Andreotti’s analysis.

As mischievously as ever, Andreotti asked Boutros-Ghali why he had wanted to see him so urgently if he was almost shunning discussion on the Arab/Israeli conflict.

“My dear Giulio,” Boutros-Ghali confided, “I just want to hear you say that Italy will support my candidature for the post of Secretary-General of the UN. Frankly, between you and me, that is why I came.”

With a smile on the distant horizon of his mouth, Andreotti got up and went to the small niche in the chapel with its legend Oleum Infirmorum.

“As a Copt you know what this niche means,” he said. “But is your candidacy so threatened that you need the Holy Oil of the sick? You are in excellent health.”

“Please, Giulio, do not beat around the bush. Am I being supported or not?”

“Of course, Boutros, we will be behind you. But what is crucial is the vote of the United States. Do you have a commitment from the Americans?”

“That, Giulio, is the other reason why I need your assistance. My advisers tell me that the Americans are much more open with you than with me. Can you find out?”

Andreotti paced the room and went to the phone. Once I confirmed to him that it was secure, he pulled a small black book out of his jacket and asked me to dial quite a long number. I did so.

After a few seconds somebody at the other end replied: “The White House”.

Taking over the mouth-piece, Andreotti identified himself, requesting to speak to the President who came to the phone within a few minutes.

Andreotti told him that Boutros-Ghali was anxious to know what the American position was regarding his candidacy.

There were a few comments of “yes” and “of course” from Andreotti, who then put the phone down. Boutros-Ghali was hanging on his every comment and gaze.

“So, please tell me,” he begged.

Sitting down teasingly in an armchair, Andreotti looked at him as if he were hearing his confession, and with hands clasped in front of his face, he said:

“It was not a no, but a maybe. But knowing him, I am sure it will be a ‘yes’. Boutros-Ghali, you can now go to sleep and see you in New York...”

When Boutros-Ghali was eventually elected, he sent me a card saying: “After all the oleum infirmorum worked!”

In later years, I came to know both of them closely as we were all members of the Club de Monaco, which brought together every year, for a three-day ‘retreat’ in Monaco, a number of former presidents, prime ministers and ministers and, more modestly, former ambassadors like myself to discuss global and regional (that is, Mediterranean) issues.

Andreotti would normally sit alphabetically next to me, and when the discussion meandered, he would turn to me recounting, in Italian, one of his biting yet humorous stories, earning the chairman’s (Boutros-Ghali’s) rebuke for not paying sufficient attention to the proceedings.

Greeting him on his 90th birthday, I was happy to receive a warm letter of thanks, asking me to remember him to his close Maltese friend, Guido de Marco, for whom he nurtured great respect, particularly for his role in Mediterranean affairs, which, I am sure, they now pursue together in their celestial gatherings.