‘If you knew, why didn’t you do anything about it?’
‘Without evidence? In a neutral country which was as corrupt as an old cadaver? And if we’d started arresting Turkish nationals, it would have just driven Turkey closer to the Germans.’
‘How do you know some of our people weren’t involved?’
The old man gave him a sly smile along the stem of his pipe. ‘If I did, I can’t prove it. Not then — not now.’
‘You can’t even give me a lead?’
‘Well —’ he was fiddling with his pipe again, spilling tobacco from his pouch and picking it off his bony knees — ‘I might be able to give you a name. Man called Salak. Imin Salak. He’ll be getting on now — if someone hasn’t already knifed him and tossed him in the Bosporus. But he was a young man then, very bright, very highly thought of by our side. He was a wrestler by profession — last I heard, he still was. Runs a chemist shop in the Kumkapi District — apparently used to be one of the most picturesque parts of Istanbul, but also pretty seedy, o’ course.
‘Sounds as though you still keep in touch with him?’
‘Only gossip at the club. He still draws a pension from us. Though the mandarins aren’t too happy about it, as he’s supposed to be tied up in the rackets. Drugs.’ He pulled a face: ‘Nasty stuff.’
‘What was his exact function during the war?’
‘Officially, a middle man for the Istanbul Port Authority. His job was to vet the masters’ credentials and check on the cargoes. He’s supposed to have had amazing contacts, both above board and in the underworld. He was also entrusted to recruit agents and spies among the local dock people. If there was any funny business going on, Salak was your man. He shouldn’t be too difficult to track down. Wrestling’s one of the most popular sports in Turkey, and wrestlers stick together like an old boys’ fraternity.’
There was a pause. The room had become thick with Mac’s pipe smoke, and with the smell of malt.
‘Let’s go back to the Caribbean for a moment,’ Hawn said. ‘It was that man Robak who put the idea forward. Supposing someone — Rice, for instance, and others — fixed up a deal by which a few tankers crossed the Atlantic, lost the convoy, and made it round to the north of Norway, then down the German-controlled coast to Sweden? Would it have been possible?’
‘Aye, I guess it would.’
‘What about the Royal Navy?’
‘The Senior Service, you mean? That magic phrase.’ He stroked the edge of his jaw. ‘The Navy lads had their hands full — what with trying to protect our lifeline across the Atlantic, and hunting down U-boats. They didn’t have the time to stop every stray ship they didn’t like the look of, including the odd tanker. Besides, even if they did, there wasn’t a lot they could do — providing the Bills of Lading appeared to be in order.’
‘They must have had some instructions from the Admiralty? Supposing they spotted a tanker round Iceland, obviously heading for Norwegian and Swedish waters? They boarded her and found she had papers made out to some dubious Swiss bank dealing with someone in Sweden? What did they do? Sink the tanker?’
‘Laddie boy, even a captain in the Royal Navy doesn’t go round sinking unarmed neutral vessels just because he doesn’t like the look of their papers.’
‘The captains still must have had some degree of discretion. How subtle would you say the average Royal Navy captain is?’
‘Not too subtle — especially where paperwork’s concerned, and that’s all in a foreign language. You must remember that as neutral countries, places like Sweden and Switzerland were perfectly entitled to import oil, and anything else they wanted, for their own domestic consumption.’
‘How did the Swiss manage it? Directly through Germany?’
‘Officially they used the pipeline up from Genoa — the first of its kind ever built. The Swedes, of course, imported directly from the States — although the American authorities were not at all happy about the arrangement.’
‘What was the position with U-boats?’ said Hawn. ‘How did they know how to distinguish a rogue tanker from just another ship which had lost its convoy?’
MacIntyre got up and put a log on the fire. ‘Well, that’s where the skulduggery would have come in. If your theory is correct — and I’m not saying it either is or is not — the Nazis would have had agents in the Caribbean, probably working inside the oil companies, notifying the German Admiralty, who in turn would have passed the information on to the U-boat commanders.’ He paused, busy packing his pipe; this time he took five matches to get it alight.
He went on: ‘Forget the Caribbean angle for the moment, laddie. If you’ve come to me for advice, I’m telling you to look to Turkey. It’s nearer and cheaper to get to. Besides, the Caribbean’s sewn up — the Yanks have seen to that. If there were any dirty traces left after the war, you can be sure they’ve been kicked over by now. But Turkey’s another story. It’s a wild country — always has been. Talk to Salak. Only if he decides to tell you anything, he’ll want to be paid. And from what I’ve heard of him, he’s expensive.
‘But first, why don’t you try Doktor Mönch? Still nearer, and he’s probably much cheaper. As I told you, Mönch was tied up in some very hush-hush business with Nazi war production. He may not be prepared to give you details — for fear of reprisals — but he might provide you with a useful overall picture.’
He poured them each the last of the malt. ‘And one last thing, Tommy. A piece of advice
