The Dardanelles Conspiracy Alan Bardos (reading a book txt) 📖

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.