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

a rebuke for not being in uniform himself. ‘I have extensive experience with the black arts of diplomacy. Knowledge that could be of infinite value…’

‘Sorry, let me stop you there, Sir George. I assume it's the VB code you’re after?’ Hall finished his gin, carefully placing the glass on the table.

‘Code… sorry you’ve lost me, Hall,’ Sir George said pouring gin into Hall’s glass. The conversation was taking an unhelpful turn.

‘Yes, the Verkehrsbuch, or transport book code, it’s used by the Germans to converse with their high-level naval assets and embassies. We’ve cracked it,’ Hall said.

‘Have you really, how extraordinary.’

‘Which I’m assuming is why I’m being subjected to all this flannel. You’re desperate to find a use for yourself at the Admiralty and as all you know is pushing around paper. You think getting your hands on those intercepts will give you some point.’

‘Captain Hall, let me assure you such technical matters are of little consequence to me. I understand there are people who deal with such things, that is where my knowledge and interest in codes begins and ends.’ Sir George smiled lightly.

‘Well why the bloody hell are you wasting my time?’ Hall barked, Sir George thought he heard his false teeth clatter and felt himself shudder.

‘It’s your scheme to pay the Ottoman Empire to end hostilities that interests me,’ Sir George said, with all the delicacy he could muster after several gins.

‘I see.’ Hall frowned, irritated. ‘I was led to believe, when Hankey suggested the idea, that matters would be left to oneself to organise.’

‘What exactly is Hankey’s role in the operation?’ Sir George asked. This was the key issue he needed to address. The Secretary of the War Council had been a Royal Marine intelligence officer and was a well connected political operator. If he had chosen to oversee the operation it would make it a little harder for Sir George to justify his role and take credit.

‘He has no role,’ Hall replied tersely.

‘So Hankey informed you of the value of sending representatives to negotiate with the Turkish government and then left you to your own devices?’ Sir George asked hopefully. Hall was evidently a man who liked to operate on his own.

Hall levelled a steady gaze down the barrel of his large hooked nose. ‘That is correct.’

‘I take it you have operatives, suitable for carrying out sensitive negotiations of this kind?’ Sir George asked.

‘Yes, of course I do.’ Hall burst out, brevity and directness were the soul of his conversation.

‘Look there’s no need to adopt that tone with me, Hall. Regardless of any involvement you might have had with Colonel Hankey. You report to the First Lord of the Admiralty and not the Secretary of the War Council,’ Sir George said, summoning all the authority he could muster. This operation was his chance to satisfy Churchill’s mania for half-baked schemes and he was not going to let some obstinate sea dog stand in his way.

Hall stiffened at the rebuke. A naval man through and through, he evidently respected the chain of command, if not the men within it. ‘I don’t really see what concern any of this is of yours or what possible contribution you could make, Smyth.’

Hall’s whole manner and appearance were starting to remind Sir George of a falcon preparing to rip the entrails out of some unfortunate wood foul.

Sir George employed his most superior tone. ‘The First Lord of the Admiralty has appointed me as his representative for this operation. A task I intend to perform to the utmost of my ability. And since you ask what my contribution is, I have found someone who would be an ideal candidate for this little endeavour.’

‘A stuffed shirt from the diplomatic corps no doubt,’ Hall sniffed.

‘Not exactly, the person I have in mind is very far from a stuffed shirt.’ Sir George paused. ‘He has something of a reputation, but he would I believe be of great value to an operation of this type. His name is Gerald Fitzmaurice and he was a senior consular at the British Embassy in Constantinople.’

Sir George hadn’t met him but was fully aware of Fitzmaurice’s reputation. An Irishman who had operated on the boundaries of good taste and gentlemanly conduct in Constantinople before the war. He was rumoured to have planned a coup against the Turkish government, which led to his expulsion from the British Embassy. ‘Fitzmaurice is an unrivalled authority on the state of play in the Ottoman Empire. He’d be invaluable in an operation of this type.’

‘Yes, Fitzmaurice is a miracle worker. He’s served the country well and at great cost to his health,’ Hall agreed, at last accepting that Sir George wasn’t a total fool. ‘Unfortunately, he’s tied up working for the Foreign Secretary at the moment.’

Sir George finished his gin. At last he was back in a world he understood and a world he could influence. ‘So you have other people in mind?’

Hall shifted, clearly not used to explaining himself to a Civil Servant. ‘Yes, a Mr Griffin Eady and a Mr Edwin Whittall, both of whom have lived in Turkey for a considerable period, and are on good terms with a number of notable figures there.’

‘Splendid, splendid, things are further progressed than I’d expected,’ Sir George said.

Hall ignored Sir George’s compliment. ‘Whittall and Eady are currently on their way to Greece. I couldn't get permission for them to enter Turkey as diplomatic guests and I’m unwilling to risk valuable assets without it,’ Hall said and blinked. ‘So from Greece they will establish contact with people sympathetic to our purpose in the Turkish Government and persuade them to meet on neutral ground. I have local couriers in place, but ideally I need someone of little value, but who can still represent His Majesty’s Government.’

‘A pawn we can send into the vipers’ nest and persuade the Turkish regime