The Dardanelles Conspiracy

by Alan Bardos

  ‘The British look at us with hungry eyes. They have taken Egypt and the Red Sea ports and have allied themselves with Russia, our oldest enemy.’ Talat paused to inhale the aromatic smoke of his cigarette. ‘Now you ask me to abandon my alliance with the Germans and make peace with our enemies.’

  ‘It was expedient for the Germans to enter into the alliance with the Ottoman Empire, why can we not return the courtesy and end that alliance when it is expedient for us to do so?’ The Grand Rabbi said mildly. ‘May I communicate your willingness to meet with the official British representatives, to discuss the terms in detail?’

  Talat banged the telegraph machine on his desk and gave Johnny a murderous look that made his bowels heave.

  'The British have begun their attack. They've shelled our forts at the month of the Dardanelles. While entering into negotiations with me!'

  The Grand Rabbi and Esther glared at Johnny, he was dumfounded. The anger on Talat’s face faded and he became reticent once more.

  'In return for my agreement to meet with the official British representatives and finalise these terms, the British government will guarantee the sovereignty of Constantinople?'

  Johnny thought Talat looked like he would agree to any terms. He didn’t live far from the seafront, within easy range of the fleet’s guns. His wooden house and the miles of wooden houses that made up the majority of the city would go up like a tinderbox after the first salvo. Talat stubbed out his cigarette and lit another, while the Grand Rabbi answered.

  'I have no knowledge of such things. I presume that if you consent to the Allied terms, Constantinople will remain as it always has, the capital of the Ottoman Empire.'

  Talat smiled wryly, showing a little of the strength that had got him into power. 'I have heard reports that our capital is promised to Russia. You must understand that I cannot agree to that. Guarantees must be given that Constantinople will remain in Turkish hands.'

  'I have no authority to negotiate the future of our beloved capital,' the Grand Rabbi replied clearly finding the position he’d been put in difficult. 'I will inform London of your concerns and when you meet with the official representatives they can discuss the matter further with you.’

  Talat's eyes flickered. ‘The Germans have provided a certain amount of military and financial support. I have been offered nothing but insults from the British. They steal our cruisers, take our territory and attack my country.’

  'We have been instructed by the British to offer you terms, which I’m sure would compensate you for any insult they may have given and offset any financial considerations made by the Germans,' the Grand Rabbi said.

  'What sort of compensation?' Talat asked, sitting back. He finished his cigarette and lit another.

  The Grand Rabbi sighed. He had obviously been hoping that such details would be discussed with the official representatives. 'The British are prepared to offer you five hundred thousand pounds, sterling, for the surrender of the Dardanelles and of course the removal of the mines from the Dardanelles Strait.’

  ‘Please Rabbi don’t insult me further, the Germans have already paid loans far in excess of that amount.’ Talat said.

  ‘Very well, three million pounds,’ the Grand Rabbi’s voice scarcely rose above a whisper.

  ‘I see, that is a sizeable sum.'

  'There is however an additional consideration,' the Grand Rabbi added.

  Talat’s face hardened. 'Isn't there always?'

  'London has instructed me to offer you a further five hundred thousand pounds for the battle cruiser Goeben to be surrendered, intact, to the Royal Navy.'

  'The Yavuz Sultan Selim is our flagship and one of the most modern and powerful warships afloat,' Talat said sharply, using the name the Turkish navy had given the ship.

  'I may be able to raise your compensation by another hundred thousand pounds.' The Grand Rabbi shifted awkwardly.

  'You understand that the Yavuz Sultan Selim is a matter of great national pride, its loss would be a blow to the prestige of the Turkish people and something they would feel obliged the redress.'

  'I can offer a further two hundred thousand pounds to pay for costs in maintaining order on the streets.'

  'The ships the British stole from us were paid for by public subscription, Turkish school children gladly sacrificed their pocket money.'

  'That can be compensated by another one hundred thousand pounds,' the Grand Rabbi said, finding this kind of horse trading distasteful.

  'There is of course the matter of how the Germans would react. They have provided us with considerable material support and we cannot just abandon them for a bribe!'

  'The British are prepared to offer a total of four million pounds.' The Grand Rabbi made no attempt at subtlety wishing to end the conversation quickly and Talat looked offended.

  Johnny felt obliged to step in and try to save what little progress had been made. 'That is not a bribe, Excellency, that is surely what the Turkish people paid for the cruisers my Government impounded. Consider it compensation from my government.’

  Talat stubbed out his cigarette. 'Yes, I think my people would be happy with that offer. Now, I have pressing matters of state to attend to.’

  Chapter 24

  Breitner hurried into von Grubber’s ornate office and stood to attention, his wounded leg ached and throbbed from the effort to get to the meeting.

  Von Grubber was enjoying coffee with Pichler, the Head of the Commissariat. They were the perfect picture of Habsburg aristocrats, sitting in the splendour of a forgotten empire.

  ‘Oh Breitner, there you are! You are thirty minutes late for our appointment, Herr Pichler and I are busy men.’ Von Grubber’s rebuke lacked its normal edge, he even smiled.

  ‘Please excuse my tardiness, Baron von Grubber. I have only just received your note.’ Breitner stood up straight, he had been using the great champagne mystery as a reason to spend time at the German Embassy in the hope that he could get a line on what Swift was up to. With his connection to the British Diplomatic Service, Breitner knew Swift would not be in Constantinople just to drink the Ambassador’s champagne. It would be something that would have altogether far more serious repercussions for the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, with the Allied Fleet at the gates.

  ‘While investigating the missing champagne, Excellency, I discovered that…'

  Von Grubber started to wail and Breitner prepared himself for the worst. Pichler began to make the same disturbing sound and Breitner realised that they were laughing.

  ‘Has no one told you? The champagne has turned up. Well, two replacement cases, a half-decent vintage as well,’ Von Grubber said, pointing to the Head of the Commissariat.

  ‘The champagne has been replaced?’ Breitner asked, confused.

  ‘Yes, a German officer of some kind sent a rather charming apology.’ Von Grubber was thrilled. The mystery had been solved and honour had been restored.

  ‘I told you, these things take care of themselves, Breitner.’ Pichler laughed. 'After all that fuss you made about a scrap of paper.'

  ‘I suppose you’ve been wasting your time looking for the champagne?’ Von Grubber giggled, ‘When you could have been doing something to help with the ambassador’s reception.’

  ‘He’s certainly worked himself up into a state, look at him,’ Pichler commented and let out a yelp of glee.

  ‘As a matter of fact, Baron von Grubber, my time has not been completely wasted. There was another matter that I’ve discovered, connected to the missing champagne which I would like to bring to your attention.' Breitner tried to order his thoughts into an argument which von Grubber might understand.

  ‘While reviewing the records at the German Embassy, I discovered that the person who took the champagne was an Englishman of my acquaintance. Whom I believe to be in Constantinople clandestinely.’

  ‘And just how do you know that.’ Von Grubber asked annoyed, Breitner was over complicating his day.

  ‘He signed for the champagne.’r />
  ‘With his own name! Really Her Breitner is this the best the cream of the so-called Intelligence Bureau can come up with?’ von Grubber raised a pained eyebrow at Pichler and they both yelped.

  ‘Might I see the note from the officer?’ Breitner asked.

  ‘Oh, very well.’ Von Grubber flapped his hand towards his desk. Breitner snatched the note up. It had been signed by a Captain Adolphus Brauer.

  ‘This officer must know Swift, or why else would he have sent the champagne?’

  ‘Herr Breitner we have entertained this ridiculous charade of yours long enough. Either the strain of your duties have become too much, or you have invented this whole fantasy to get out of doing any work. Either way I no longer wish to be bothered with it. Now I believe your assistance is required in the preparations for the Ambassador’s reception which is why I summoned you here.’

  Chapter 25

  ‘Captain Adolphus Brauer?’ Breitner asked a rather large officer of the German artillery, who was about to take a bite from a Bratwurst. He stopped and regarded Breitner with a cheerful smile.

  ‘Yes, that is me, how may I be of service?’

  ‘I am Major Laszlo Breitner, currently attached to the Austro-Hungarian Embassy.’

  Brauer stood up and clicked his heels together. ‘Won’t you join me, sir?

  The captain pulled out a chair at his table and Breitner sat down. ‘I hear you are leaving for the Dardanelles?’

  ‘I am to be a battery commander at Fort Anadolu Hamidiye 1 – right in the firing line… So the condemned man is eating a hearty last meal!’ Brauer laughed and signalled to a waiter. ‘Would you care for anything sir?’

  ‘No thank you. I’m here on behalf of the Embassy to offer our thanks for your gracious note and the replacing of the champagne.’ Breitner said glancing at his watch he didn’t have much time.

  Brauer looked bewildered and laughed. ‘Of course I signed the note. Think nothing of it my dear fellow. We wanted to settle all matters of honour before we left. You must have gone to a lot of trouble to find me.’

  ‘Not at all, I’m on good terms with a clerk at your embassy who was able to find where you had been billeted.’ Breitner took a bottle of schnapps from his pocket. ‘Something to help aid your journey, Captain Brauer.’

  The Captain beamed, ‘Please call me Dolly. That is most kind.’

  ‘You said “we”, might I ask who else I need to convey our thanks too?’ Breitner tried to disguise his tension with a forced smile.

  ‘Oh, I’m afraid you’ve missed my good friend Lieutenant Kurt Wirbelauer, he’s already left. The other person, well I suppose you should thank him, he paid for the champagne, is Ernst von Jager. A diplomatic courier of rather questionable integrity.’

  Breitner nodded solemnly not giving away the excitement he felt, ‘And where might I find this individual?’

  ‘Well right here, he’s taken a room at this hotel.’

  Johann Strauss’s ‘Voices of Spring’ accompanied Breitner as he navigated his way through the Austrian Ambassador’s reception. The jaunty waltz did little to calm the strained atmosphere of the occasion. All around him was talk of the impending Armageddon at the hands of the Allied armada.

  Breitner skirted around General Liman von Sanders who was chatting amiably with von Pallavicini, the Austrian Ambassador. Sigmund Stolz was at the General’s side and Breitner gave him a curt bow.

  Breitner found von Grubber holding court with a group of officials from the Embassy. They were maintaining a discreet distance from the Ambassador. Giving the impression that they were at hand, should they be needed to fulfil some minor but essential function for the continued success of the reception.

  ‘Excuse me Excellency, might I trouble you for a moment?’

  Von Grubber’s eyes flashed irritation. ‘What is it Breitner, can’t you see I’m busy?’

  ‘Johnny Swift the British spy we were discussing, I’ve found him.’

  ‘What the hell do I care about such things, there are hundreds of spies in Constantinople and you could have found all of them for all the good it will do. What’s important is maintaining a cordial relationship within the alliance.’

  ‘I agree Excellency, but if…’

  ‘Breitner, first thing Monday morning we will need to discuss a change in your duties,’ von Grubber said and turned his back on him.

  Breitner walked away from the fool in a half-hearted attempt to hide his contempt and caught a glimpse of Esther Weisz. It was the first time that he had laid eyes on her since refusing to renew their engagement. She was exquisite in a flowing pearl gown that perfectly complimented her flawless complexion. To drive the stake further into his heart, the orchestra struck up Brahms’s Hungarian Dance Number 4. The sweeping vibrant music dragged him back to the time when he’d allowed himself to feel something other than duty.

  She felt his gaze and raised her lips in a half smile. This could have all been yours, it seemed to say, think how happy we could have been.

  It had always been a source of wonder to Breitner how she could look so correct and yet have such warmth. To have such grace and composure while radiating unbound sensuality.

  He tried to remember the pain her family had inflicted on him and the insult she had caused his honour by bringing him to Constantinople, but none of it mattered. The years had dropped away and he was love sick and lost, again.

  He couldn’t understand how she could stir such feelings in him, feelings that should have died long ago. Breitner knew he had been rash to spurn Esther’s proposition. To spend his life with her would have been cheap at any price.

  Breitner circled the room employing a flanking manoeuvre he’d learnt long ago in the Hussars. ‘Are you unaccompanied, Miss Weisz?’

  She turned and gave him a reserved look. She seemed to know that he was here to throw himself at her feet. It was time for him to pay the price for his pride. ‘Do you not have pressing duties to perform, Major Breitner? I wouldn’t wish to inconvenience you.’

  ‘Entertaining the Ambassador’s guests is my duty, Miss Weisz.’

  ‘Of course, what other reason would you have for talking to me? Well, you need not concern yourself, I have an escort.’ Esther flashed a quick contemptuous look and Breitner crumpled inside.

  ‘Will you allow me to attend you until your escort returns? It would be ungallant to leave a lady alone.’ Breitner felt hollow.

  ‘Well, you are the expert in ungallant behaviour.’

  ‘Yes, so it would seem.’ Breitner held himself straight as his grandfather had taught him and prepared to take responsibility for what he had done. ‘I’m afraid that I have been found wanting.’ Breitner smiled sadly, accepting his failing, but she continued her hard, unrelenting stare. ‘Of course, there is no way you could forgive me.’

  ‘My dear Miss Weisz, I do wish that you wouldn't wander off when in my company. It doesn’t reflect well.’

  Breitner clenched his jaw and saw that Esther was being addressed by a Turkish officer in an immaculate uniform of the 57th Regiment. Esther softened her eyes and turned to the Turkish Officer.

  ‘Major Avin Toprak, may I present Major Laszlo Breitner of the Royal Hungarian Honvéd.’ Breitner was touched by the pride in Esther’s voice. ‘Major Breitner is attached to the Embassy here. Major Toprak is an aide-de-camp to Enver Pasha, the Minister of War.’

  ‘You have seen action? I saw what a Cossack’s sabre can do during my time in the Caucasus.’ Major Toprak said as they exchanged a formal handshake. ‘It must be hard for a fighting soldier to be attached to an embassy staff.’

  Breitner glanced at Esther, but she showed no reaction as Toprak continued. ‘I am also a frontline soldier, but my duty at present is to serve Enver Pasha.’

  ‘Is Enver here?’ Esther asked, looking around the room.

  ‘Yes of course, you really must learn to pay attention. Enver would not miss the Austrian Ambassador’s reception.’

  ‘I thought that Enver had been keepi
ng out of the public eye since his return from the Caucasus.’ Esther sounded surprised.

  ‘Nonsense, my dear, you really shouldn’t pay any attention to such childish stories. Now come with me, I believe Enver Pasha wishes to speak with you.’

  The mask of indifference fell from Esther's face. Her eyes screamed at Breitner for help, as Toprak took her away.

  Breitner followed and watched as the Minister of War greeted her like an old friend. Breitner had to admit that Enver Pasha was every bit as dashing as Esther had described, with a refined bone structure that would have made a society beauty proud and the dignity and purpose of a soldier.

  ‘Your Excellency, may I present Major Laszlo Breitner,’ Esther said with a hint of pride again. ‘He’s an old friend from Budapest.’

  Enver inclined his head in greeting. ‘Major.’

  ‘Excellency, would you care for a glass of champagne?’ Breitner assumed that was what a good embassy flunky asked.

  ‘No thank you, Major, I neither drink nor smoke,’ Enver replied. ‘There is nothing that I require, unless you can stop the scaremongering about the Allied fleet breaking through to Constantinople.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Excellency, is that not also the prevailing view amongst your countrymen?’ Breitner asked.

  Enver’s jaw clenched shut and the skin tightened over the delicate bone structure of his face. ‘It sickens me that my government colleagues are preparing to run away and leave our capital to the mercy of the British. I can promise you that even if they manage to pass through the Dardanelles Strait all they will get are ashes. They will find themselves as Napoleon did in Moscow. I will raze the capital to the ground before I surrender it.’

  Esther looked at him nervously. ‘Forgive my candour, Excellency, if that is the case should I not make arrangements to leave the city?’

  Enver switched smoothly from anger back to charm as he addressed Esther. ‘Esther Hanim, that is not really a subject that should be discussed with a lady. Once you are married to Major Toprak, he can decide whether it is safe for you to stay in the city.’