Phyllis gave a gay peal of laughter, and the years positively melted away. “I would not pay overmuch attention to such blatherings, if I were you, my dear.”
Sally felt a rush of relief so strong it left her weak. “But they were so, well, convincing.”
“Deadly serious,” Jasmyn added.
“Well, they would be, wouldn’t they? I mean, that is why our Mrs. Fothering did not inform them of her own purpose on the journey, which was to see if they were worthy of joining our little band. Nor have they been told what role I myself play.” She took a delicate sip, went on, “You see, my dear, there are those among us who feel they can give greater merit to their deeds by filling their little worlds with unnecessary drama.”
Sally sank back in her seat and glanced at an equally restored Jasmyn. “Then Jake and Pierre aren’t in danger after all.”
“Why, of course they are, my dear.” Phyllis Hollamby smiled brightly. “They are gathering intelligence in Turkey. There could scarcely be a more perilous occupation in all the world.”
“But you said—”
Mrs. Hollamby reached over and patted Sally’s hand. “I simply said that these women and their melodrama were out of place. Such ladies like to fill their lives with commotion. That is their choice. But to instill unnecessary ferment in the heart of a newcomer is, well, excuse me for saying it, but it really is simply balderdash.” She looked from one to the other and aligned her features before saying sternly, “Now, you really cannot allow yourselves to take this so seriously. All the world is full of peril. Both your husbands have lived to wear their well-earned decorations because they are experts at the art of survival. If you wish to assist them with this next challenge, you must begin by being alert and calm and steady.”
“That’s what we had decided as well,” Sally told her.
“Well of course you have. From all reports, you’re both cut from proper staunch cloth.” She looked from one young woman to the other. “I must tell you, what we have heard of your own war records has impressed our group enormously.”
Jasmyn glanced in Sally’s direction, then asked, “You know about us?”
“Oh my, yes. Otherwise we would have watched and waited before making contact. We must be extremely careful, you see. As to how, well, let us simply say for the moment that our network has extended at a most remarkable rate. People are relocated, and they take both the work and their desire to participate with them. New connections are made, new little circles started.”
“That’s what you call yourselves? Circles?”
“That is correct, my dear,” she agreed, the humor reforming her two dimples. “Among ourselves, we are known as the Circle of Friends.”
* * *
“Meester Jake.” Ahmet was fairly dancing in place as Jake bounced up the stairs after lunch. “Is unauthorized stranger in your outer office.”
“I told you not to call me that,” Jake said, brushing by the little man as though he was not there. He had just spent an hour listening to Pierre moan about the barriers being placed in his way and was in no mood to pander to such whinings.
“But this man—”
Jake wheeled about, put on his sharpest parade-ground face. “Did you hear what I just said?”
Ahmet backed up a step and protested, “This most serious matter!”
“So is this,” Jake said sharply. “If you want to talk with me, you will learn a proper form of address. Got that?” Before Ahmet could reply, he wheeled about and pushed through the front doors.
Corporal Samuel Bailey snapped to attention when Jake appeared. “Afternoon, Colonel.”
“Don’t they ever let you sleep?”
“Aye, sir.” Being a graduate of Parris Island, the corporal took no notice of Jake’s continual steam. “The first Tuesday of every other month.”
Jake bit down on the smile as Ahmet scurried up alongside. “My new assistant shown up yet?”
“About an hour ago, sir.” Just a flicker of a glance Ahmet’s way, no more. “Mrs. Ecevit walked him up personally. She’s already started the vetting process.”
“That’s the kind of news I like,” Jake declared. “Efficiency and good news in equal measure.”
A sudden thought turned him back. Ahmet missed bouncing off him by a hair. “You wouldn’t know what Sergeant Adams’ first name is, would you, Samuel?”
“Sergeants don’t have first names, sir,” Bailey replied. “They have them surgically removed when they earn their stripes.”
* * *
“Morning, Daniel,” Jake said, firmly shutting the door in Ahmet’s protesting face. He surveyed the pile of boxes fronting the rickety metal desk and demanded, “What’s all this?”
“They were here when I arrived, Mr. Burnes.” Daniel Levy looked up nervously from the papers in his hand. “I’m sorry. Should it be Colonel Burnes, sir?”
“Skip the sirs for a start. You can call me Jake when we’re alone. Mr. Burnes will do when guests are around.” He pointed with his chin at the papers. The bearded man was evidently very nervous. Putting their relationship swiftly onto a footing of work and results might steady things down. “Any idea what this stuff is?”
“It appears to be cost estimates from a building project. Actually, several different projects in various locations.” He shuffled the papers in his hand. “But they are hopelessly jumbled. It appears that no one has made any effort whatsoever to keep note of the incoming or outgoing flow of money. The reports were simply dumped into these boxes as soon as they arrived.”
“Figures.” Jake glanced about the bare, seedy office. “This place could sure use some dressing up.”
“I am quite comfortable, sir, I mean, Mr. Burnes.”
“Mr. Burnes it is,” Jake said easily. “Okay. We’ve got to get a few things straight. Number one, we’re probably on our own here, at least in the beginning. Number two, we’re going to be facing pressures from all sides. Refer all such prodders to me. Number three, I need you to get this mess straightened out as quickly as possible. Tell me where the projects are located, who the major players are in each case. See if you can get some idea what they’re doing. I want to go into my first meetings with at least a basic knowledge of what is going on.”
“I understand.” Daniel gradually stilled, his nerves easing with the focus of a task at hand.
“Time is crucial here. The faster we can work, the greater chance we have of catching the opposition off guard.”
“You can count on me, Mr. Burnes.”
“I know I can,” Jake said, and meant it. “Notice anything peculiar so far?”
Daniel glanced at the piles he had already sorted. “Only that there are no tender documents among these. None I have found so far, that is.”
“I don’t understand. My basic instructions were that each project was to be awarded after a minimum of three bids had been received, the project going to the lowest qualified bidder.”
“Well, perhaps they are in the two boxes over there,” Daniel said doubtfully. “I have not looked in them yet. But I started with the ones dated earliest, and so far there is nothing except requisitions for more funds and receipts for money spent.”
“Then something isn’t right,” Jake said. “Keep digging.”
“I will, Mr. Burnes.” A moment’s hesitation, then more quietly, “You cannot imagine what it means to receive this job.”
Jake nodded, crossed his arms, said, “I have to warn you, Daniel, there is a chance that our little party here might end up being short-lived.”
“Mrs. Ecevit has warned me of the obstacles we face.” A different form of uncertainty surfaced, one more akin to embarrassment. “My wife, you must understand, she was overjoyed to receive this news. She has asked if you might be able to join us tonight.”
Jake took in the same shiny suit as yesterday, the evident hunger, said quietly, “I don’t think I could make it for dinner. But I would be delighted to stop by after for coffee.”
“That would be
wonderful. Thank you.”
“The thanks are all on my side.” Jake turned for the door. “I’m going to see the personnel people, wherever they are. I want to arrange for you to have a bonus for starting early. Say I used it as a kicker, since we needed to get going quickly. Whatever I can arrange for you to receive, I’ll have them drop it by this afternoon. Then I’ll be up with Mrs. Ecevit.”
Jake caught a glimpse of Daniel’s face as he closed the door. The look of unmasked gratitude carried him through the aggravating process of wrangling funds from a tight-fisted personnel officer. That done, he traipsed up the stairs and down the long corridor to the political officer’s outer office.
He knocked on the open door, watched the sharply chiseled face rise from her papers. He asked Mrs. Ecevit, “Can you spare a few minutes?”
“I suppose so,” she said reluctantly.
“Thanks.” Jake entered the office, motioned to the single high-backed chair. “Mind if I sit down?”
“Please.” There was no warmth to her invitation nor her eyes. She watched him with a blank stare, giving nothing away. “Mr. Edders said you wanted to ask me questions.”
“That’s right. I was wondering if you could give me some background on the political situation here.”
The wariness did not ease. “Why?”
“So I won’t have to walk in blind,” Jake said simply.
She sighed. “It is not a simple Western sort of situation here, Mr. Burnes.”
“Why,” Jake said mildly, “does this not come as a surprise?”
She looked at him sharply, found no derision, and after a moment’s hesitation said, “In the 1920s, General Ataturk wrested political power from the Ottoman monarchs and introduced a limited democracy. I say limited, because only one political party was permitted. But I must also remind you that this came after more than three thousand years of rule by absolute monarchs. It is only since the late thirties, after the general’s death, that opposition parties have come into existence.”
Jake leaned back, delighted with the chance to sit and learn from someone willing to teach.
“When the funds arrived from the United States, they came with orders to avoid dealing with former Nazi collaborators at all costs. This was almost impossible. There were many Nazi sympathizers within both parties, many of whom never said so outright. The politicians, like people throughout our society, became split, some split even within themselves. One moment they saw the Nazis as examples of the discipline necessary to stop the threat of Russia and the Communists. The next, they were terrified of what a Nazi victory might mean to our country and its future.”
“Good to hear.”
“You must not leap to swift conclusions, Colonel Burnes. This is not America, with its history of democracy and a foundation built upon human liberty. This is Turkey. We were ancient before your continent was even discovered. We have survived thirty centuries of dictatorship and authoritarian rule. Do you hear what I am saying? Thirty centuries. Such a legacy makes many people wary of democracy. They see it as weak. They fear that the extremists will be granted too much freedom and will use it as an opportunity to wage civil war.”
“And it was these same people who backed the Nazis?”
“There you go again,” she replied crossly. “Trying to place an American-style analysis upon a truly Turkish problem.”
Jake leaned back, crossed his arms. “So straighten me out, why don’t you?”
Dark eyes flashed fire. “In ten minutes, you want me to explain thirty centuries of struggle and conflict?”
“You could start,” Jake replied, holding to his easy tone, “by explaining why it is that you are so angry with me.”
“I am not angry with you,” she snapped. “I am angry with the system that has placed someone like you, with no true understanding of the crisis we face, in charge of something as crucial as these building funds.”
“You could do worse,” Jake responded quietly.
“I don’t see how,” she snapped back.
“You could be facing someone who refused to listen,” Jake answered. “Or was unwilling to put up with your attitude.”
Mrs. Ecevit reacted as though slapped. “My what?”
“You heard me.” Jake made a message of looking at his watch. “You’ve used up three minutes with this tirade. That leaves seven minutes for the history lesson, or more anger. Your choice.”
She gave him fifteen seconds of a smoldering stare, then, “You probably do not even remember where we were.”
“You were about to tell me why it was wrong to assume that the Nazi sympathizers were the ones fearing civil war.”
Perhaps it was his quiet tone, perhaps the focused way he repeated the crux of their discussion. Whatever the reason, she was forced to pause for a moment and look at him with a touch more caution, a bit less resentment. “It is wrong,” she finally replied, “because there were hundreds of thousands, perhaps even millions of people, who in the moments of greatest fear thought that perhaps the Nazis represented the answer. Not the Nazis themselves, you understand, but the concept of a strong central rule. That perhaps Ataturk was wrong, perhaps the country was not ready for the freedom of democracy.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Colonel Burnes, democracy requires a majority consensus. It requires most people to want democracy to succeed. They must follow the pattern. They must vote, they must accept the rule of the leaders, they must at least try to follow the laws. If they do not, democracy breaks down. But our own people, many of them, do not want democracy. They see it as a Western evil.”
“The Communists?”
“They are the largest and most dangerous antidemocratic faction we now face. A few of the extreme Muslim factions feel this way as well. And here is another crucial point missed by your analysts. They hear of a few extremists condemning democracy and the West, and they say this is the opinion of all Muslims, of all Turks. They are worse than wrong. They are dangerously blind to the truth.”
A knock on the door turned them both around. The adjunct Fernwhistle stuck his head in and smirked at the sight of them sitting there. “Your assistant said you might be here. The consul general wants to see you, Mr. Burnes. Now.”
Jake rose to his feet and extended his hand. “I would like to come back if I may.”
She inspected the hand suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because I would rather hear these things from someone who is genuinely concerned,” Jake replied, “than from someone who only tells me what they think I want to hear.”
Her head cocked to one side, the eyes rose to meet his, and finally she accepted his hand. “Very well, Colonel Burnes. I shall be willing to tell you what I can.”
* * *
“Ah, Colonel Burnes, they found you, excellent.”
“Consul General Knowles,” Jake said, entering the room. He stopped short at the sight of Pierre seated beside a skinny, dark-suited stranger. Beside them sat a beaming Dimitri Kolonov. Pierre’s expressive face flashed him a warning frown, then settled back into masklike stillness. Jake turned back to the consul general. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t know a meeting was scheduled.”
“Strictly impromptu. You know Major Servais of the French consulate, I believe. With him is the consul general’s adjunct, forgive me, I have not caught your name.”
“Corget, m’sieur.” The man spoke without moving his lips, his face as stiff as the rest of him. His slender moustache looked painted on.
“Right. And this is Mr. Kolonov from the Russian consular staff.”
“We’ve met.”
“Indeed we have, Colonel.” The Russian appeared to have an inexhaustible supply of tailored suits and fine silk ties. He exuded an ice-cold cheer as he rose to his feet and shook Jake’s hand. “I would have hoped to have heard from you before now.”
“Just trying to get on with my job,” Jake replied.
“Which brings us to the matter of this little gathering. Sit down, Colonel. I’m afraid
I have a meeting scheduled to begin in less than ten minutes, so we will need to come right to the point.”
“That should not take long.” The Frenchman’s moustache writhed like a captured caterpillar as he spoke. “This morning I have received a strongly worded protest from the Turkish government. It appears that funds they have been expecting to receive have not yet arrived.”
“I regret to report that just such a protest has arrived at my office as well,” Dimitri reported apologetically.
“To my office as well, the third this week,” Fernwhistle said smugly. “And the British. Their adjunct was on the phone to me this morning, wondering what the holdup was.”
“That is simple enough,” Jake replied. “I have not yet authorized payment.”
“And why not, pray tell?” the Frenchman demanded.
“Because I need to make sure the money is being spent correctly,” Jake replied. “And could somebody tell me why the Turkish government is taking such an interest in payments to local companies?”
“Because companies and the government,” Dimitri replied smoothly, “are one and the same.”
“Come again?” Jake looked from one face to the next. “You mean we’re dealing with government-owned companies?”
“Bravo,” Fernwhistle said. “I do believe he is finally catching on.”
“That will do,” Consul General Knowles interjected. “You see, Colonel, before the war, the Ataturk regime took on the monumental task of propelling this country from what amounted to medieval serfdom into the twentieth century. They did so by using government funds to establish modern companies in a variety of industries.”
Jake looked from one man to the next. “So no alternate bidders are available for our projects?”
“None that matter,” the Frenchman sniffed.
“My dear Colonel, the other companies are privately owned,” Dimitri Kolonov said, false regret oozing from his voice. “And private ownership is being pushed forward by the opposition party.”
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