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

first spark of excitement since he’d got to Alexandria.

The shipping ledgers weren’t really his business, which made it all the more intoxicating to go through the long lists of passenger names. If caught he’d have no good reason for doing so and face some rather difficult questioning and another accusation about working with the enemy. Johnny spent a good half an hour skimming through the lists, desperate for anything to distract him from his real work. Then it was there LEE-PERKINS, G. STAFF NURSE, BILLETED 15 GENERAL HOSPITAL, ALEXANDRIA.

‘You, come here, I need assistance.’

Johnny tensed. The shock sent his head reeling and he dropped the ledger knocking a pile of papers on the floor.

‘Look lively, you clumsy oaf, and stand to attention when an officer addresses you.

Johnny balled his fists, recognising the distinctive high-pitched whine in the voice. ‘Did you hear me?’ The voice shrieked. ‘I’m…’

‘Crassus Bloody Dawkins.’ Johnny turned around.

Crassus glared at Johnny. ‘Swift the traitor – the turncoat. So this is the rock you crawled under to avoid justice?’

‘I haven’t been avoiding justice. I was assigned to special duties,’ Johnny said.

‘Special duties, that makes sense it’s no job for a gentleman,’ Crassus scoffed. ‘Your family connections must be failing for you to end up in a uniform like that. You’re evidently on very special duties indeed.’

Crassus preened to show off his immaculately tailored uniform and luxuriantly waxed moustache. ‘You appear to be the only person here, so I’ll have to make do.’

‘You’ve just arrived with the 29th Division?’ Johnny asked, he’d missed his name in the ledgers.

‘Yes, I’m a Brigade Intelligence officer. The maps we’ve been given date back to the Crimean War. I demand that you issue me with something made this century!’ Crassus said impatiently.

‘I’m sorry, Crassus old chap that’s not my department, but I understand that it’s the same for everyone, so you’ll just have to get on with it. Like everyone else.’

Crassus glared contemptuously. He did not get on with it like everyone else. ‘You’re still a bastard, Swift. What is your purpose then, other than to frustrate decent officers doing their duty?’

‘Quartermaster,’ Johnny said, for want of a better title.

‘Oh, supply clerk, should have known you’d get your fingers in that pie.’ Crassus produced a list, ‘As it happens, I’ve also been asked to hand in this requisition for supplies.’

‘Still the grocer’s boy then? You’re evidently not much better at working the system than me.’

‘How dare you? I obtained my position on merit, not through connections my mother made with an elderly general.’

Crassus’s maliciousness surprised Johnny and made him laugh. ‘Oh, come now Crassus, we both know that isn’t true. You got your posting by doing a deal with the Colonel. Like some squalid transaction between a shopkeeper and a backstreet tradesman.’

‘May I remind you that it was your betrayal of the battalion that I was trying to rectify?’

‘What I did I did for my men. What you did was for yourself.’

‘There we have it, all comes down to the petty jealousy of the poor little bastard.’ Crassus gave a superior smile.

‘Jealous that you’re new money, yes. Not that you’re an artless and vindictive social climber.’

‘No, you’d rather be a horrible little filing oik.’ Trembling, Crassus threw the list of supplies at Johnny. ‘Have these items delivered in full to my brigade or I’ll know the reason why!’

Johnny ran up the steps of the nurses home of 15 General Hospital and into the lobby, the smell of disinfectant heightening his anticipation. He approached a doorman sitting behind a reception desk. He looked like he’d been there since Gordon went to Khartoum and had the service ribbons to prove it.

‘I would like to see Staff Nurse Lee-Perkins.’

The old veteran looked Johnny up and down. ‘Gentlemen aren’t permitted to enter the premises.’

‘Can you ask her to come out and see me? Lieutenant Jonathan Swift.’

‘Lieutenant indeed. She’s on duty.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Do you know when she’s back?’

The doorman let out a low moan, ‘What am I, her social secretary?’

Johnny placed his wrists on the counter and glared at him, copying Talat Pasha. The doorman relented and started looking through the register.

‘Should be back in an hour or so, she signed out before I came on duty this morning.’

‘I’ll wait.’

‘Not in here you ain’t, we got regulations.’

Johnny left the nurses’ home and took a table at a pavement café opposite. He ordered red wine and a hookah pipe, then settled down to wait for her to come back.

‘Drinking on our own are we? Pitiful it is.’ A lilting Welsh ascent brought Johnny to his feet.

‘19666 Aneurin Williams – where the hell did you come from?’ Johnny said pumping his hand.

‘I’m glad to see the firing squad didn’t get you, sir, the letter I wrote worked then?’

‘Yes, you could say that, thank you. Although you sent it to the wrong person.’

‘Oh, I thought it was strange, that your uncle was called Lady Smyth. Still wasn’t my place to argue, now was it?’

The waiter returned with a carafe of red wine and an elaborately decorated hookah pipe. Johnny asked for another glass.

‘Sit and have a drink with me.’

‘That wouldn’t be right now would it, you being an officer, like.’ Williams said.

‘No one’s going to know, look at me,’ Johnny pointed at his service jacket.

‘No, I suppose not.’

The waiter brought another glass so Williams shrugged and sat down. He took a mouthful of the wine and cringed. ‘Dear God, but the English will drink anything.’

‘It reminds me of better times,’ Johnny said and poured more wine.

‘Surprised you remember anything, drinking that.’

‘How did you get here Williams?’ Johnny asked.

‘I’m Crassus’s, beg pardon, Lieutenant Dawkins’s servant of all things.’

‘You’re his servant?’ Johnny laughed.

‘Go on bloody laugh,