The Dardanelles Conspiracy by Alan Bardos (you can read anyone txt) 📕

a crocodile from a Punch and Judy show, something which Sir George had loathed and feared since childhood.

‘This is surely the perfect opportunity for you to prove Enver Pasha wrong, First Lord,’ Hankey added tactfully. ‘A country such as ours with a small army and large navy can engage the much larger Turkish army with the support of the big guns of our navy and triumph.’

Churchill chuckled. ‘That would put a crimp in the fellow’s swagger. Yes, I think we’ve entertained this side show of yours long enough, Smyth. It is time to focus on the matter at hand. I am concerned as to whether our attacks on the Dardanelles are being forced home.’

‘Please, First Lord.’ Sir George almost whimpered, he couldn’t believe that this was the culmination of all his hard work. ‘May I just…’

Hankey silenced him with a wave if his hand. ‘Be quiet, Smyth. You are nothing more than a mild irritation here. Your views and advice are at best derivative, at worst they are a hindrance.’

Churchill glared at Sir George, reminded of something. ‘Yes, what use are you? Now your pet project has fallen by the wayside.’

‘Perhaps a move to munitions, we have our own shell shortage,’ Hankey suggested dryly.

‘Nonsense, a man his age should be in uniform,’ Churchill said.

‘Stout fellow,’ Fisher mumbled.

‘Yes, you can go out with Hamilton to Gallipoli, be my eyes and ears out there. We’ll get you fixed up as a commander in the Royal Naval Reserve. If you hurry, you should be able to catch the train from Charing Cross Station at 5, with all the rest of his staff.’

‘Commander! You want to send me out as a Commander!’ Sir George had listened to the conversation in impotent rage, but the thought of being a lower rank than Hall was too much. ‘My Civil Service grade is at the very least equivalent to that of a Commodore!’

‘Commander is damned more than you deserve, considering you have done nothing to earn it!’ Fisher barked.

Sir George blinked back his tears and held his breath. Any further protest would only highlight his bitterness. He had failed, he was thirty-five and his career was effectively over. He’d met his Waterloo, ten years younger than Napoleon when he met his. Sir George would never achieve the brilliance of his potential. His only destiny now was to become another drunken cynic angry at the world. The really galling thing was that little twerp, Swift, was getting off scot-free.

Hankey raised an eyebrow. ‘Beware the ides of March, old chap.’

Sir George threw the communication from Constantinople on the fire and watched it turn to ash. He looked into the faces of the men around him, something dark stirring in the pit of his stomach. 'May I make one last request?'

Chapter 31

‘Gentlemen,’ Talat Pasha planted his wrists on the table as he addressed the meeting. ‘I am prepared to remove the mines from the Dardanelles Strait and surrender it to allied shipping. We shall also arrange for the transfer of the German battlecruiser formally known as the Goeben, undamaged to the Allies. I believe the figure agreed for this was three million pounds sterling.’

Whittall glanced at Eady. Johnny thought he saw a glimmer of discomfort pass between them. They seemed unsure how to proceed. ‘Unfortunately, Excellency, we have still to formally agree a sum.’

Talat raised a hand to dismiss Whittall’s statement. ‘That is beside the point. I am willing to make these concessions, for a nominal fee, in return for the guarantee that the sovereignty of Constantinople will remain with the Turkish people.’

Whittall coughed, embarrassed, and Eady answered for him. ‘Excellency, the conditions you have outlined are tantamount to making a separate peace, with the Allies, from your alliance partners. We have been instructed to suspend such discussions.’

‘But that is absurd, we have been discussing what is “tantamount to a separate peace” with your representatives in Constantinople.’ Talat pointed a finger at Johnny, who became acutely aware of the power of the man. ‘You have brought me here under false pretences.’

‘I’m sorry Excellency, I was instructed to offer the terms we discussed.’ Johnny wondered if this was some deliberate ploy of Sir George to embarrass and discredit him further. Or to provoke Talat into ripping him limb from limb.

‘Surprisingly this is not the fault of Mr Swift. London has altered the terms of the negotiations,’ Whittall said.

‘Changed the terms? But where is your good faith?’ Talat smirked. ‘Your British sense of fair play?’

Whittall bridled, ‘Our instructions from London are explicit. We are not authorised to discuss any form of separate peace.’

‘What exactly are you in a position to negotiate, gentlemen? Or have you just brought me here for a master class in the workings of perfidious Albion?’

Gerald Fitzmaurice uncoiled himself to take part in the proceedings. ‘We wish purely to discuss the purchase of the Goeben.’

Talat looked curiously at Fitzmaurice. ‘You want our battlecruiser and that is all you have brought me here for? You think that you can break through, without negotiating a safe passage. But, gentlemen, you are not in the position of power you think, your much-acclaimed navy has so far been repulsed.’

‘I can’t comment on that, only the purchase of the battlecruiser.’ Fitzmaurice spoke with an underlying contempt for Talat and everything he stood for.

‘What guarantee would you offer me in return for our ship?’ Talat spoke with equal disdain.

‘We are not mandated to make any guarantees. We can only offer you a financial incentive for her surrender,’ Fitzmaurice responded.

‘What if she is not for sale, not for financial compensation, but for the guarantee that Constantinople will be left in our control?’

'We are willing to offer one hundred thousand pounds for the Goeben.'

‘My government would be willing to accept international administration of Constantinople, even if in name only,' Talat countered.

'That is