‘I not only believe it. I know it.’
‘Was it generally known?’
‘Generally — that is a vague word. No, it was a dead secret. But a secret shared by many people in high places.’
‘When did it begin?’
‘Oh, the first arrangements were made as early as 1938. But it was not until 1942 that the real work began. And by 1944 Istanbul had virtually become a German supply-base.’
‘How was it worked?’
‘It was simple. Your oil tankers came from Arabia through Suez, and sometimes — when the port of Alexandria was too full to take them — they came up to Istanbul to take on supplies, and sometimes change crews. It was not unknown for them to change cargoes too. But the bulk of the oil came up in small tankers on private charter — usually to a Swiss or Swedish concern — carrying fuel which was supposed to be intended for Turkish internal consumption. The amounts were excessive, and your Government constantly complained to ours. But Faik Oztrak and his friends — they were our Government at the time — were able to play games with the British, knowing how keen you were that Turkey should join the war on the Allies’ side.’
‘We must have been pretty naive!’
‘Some of you were naive. Some not. It wasn’t just Oztrak and certain other members of the Turkish Government who were privy to the secret. There were British officials involved as well.’
‘Do you know who these officials were?’
‘Ah. Now, Mr Hawn, everything I have just said is merely the meat of good cafe gossip. But do not presume too much of me. The real information will cost you money. What exactly do you want?’
‘Everything you know. Names, dates, facts, and proof — above all, proof to back it up.’
Salak took out his pipe, but made no effort to light it; then spoke, in the refined English accent which jarred so grotesquely with his appearance: ‘The information will cost you a quarter of a million Turkish lire. I would prefer a harder currency, but I am rather low in funds at the moment, and the money will come in very useful.’
Hawn made a rapid calculation: at the current rate of exchange, the man was asking for nearly five thousand pounds. It was not the sum that troubled Hawn, since it was not his money — it was Pol’s. On the other hand, he did not know how high the Frenchman was prepared to bid — presumably happy to leave that to Hawn’s judgement and discretion.
He decided to play for time. ‘Mr Salak, I’d like to make one thing quite clear. Miss Admiral here and I have done a great deal of work on this story, and have already gathered a great deal of information — including names. If the stuff you sell us turns out to be trivial or inaccurate, we shall know.’
If Salak took this to be some kind of clumsy, ineffectual threat, he showed no sign of it. ‘I shall expect the money before the banks close the day after tomorrow.’
Hawn decided to fall back on what initiative was left him. ‘Before we finish this discussion, I want to be sure that you know what you’re talking about. I mean no offence, but I only know you by reputation — and very long-distance at that. Let’s have some more of your cafe gossip, and see if it ties in with what I already know.’
To his surprise, Salak nodded vigorously. ‘I agree. I do so as a gesture of trust. There is no point in doing business together unless we trust each other.’
Hawn thought of remarking that the British had trusted Salak in the war — trusted him as their exclusive agent, while the Germans had also trusted him, to more advantage. But Salak gave the impression not only of being a man with whom it would be unwise to argue: it would be doubly unwise to dispute his good faith. He left Salak to continue.
‘If you know anything about shipping, you will understand that the process was really remarkably simple. For every ten tankers that docked in Istanbul, there was usually one captain who could be bribed. The crews would be changed, the flag changed, even the name of the ship painted out during the night. After that it was a matter of supplying the captain with false papers and new Bills of Lading. The Germans, as you know, were expert forgers. In Istanbul they had one of their best teams on the job.
‘The new destination of the cargo was put down as another neutral country — usually Spain, but sometimes, to vary the procedure, we used Genoa, with its pipeline up to Switzerland. The British didn’t at all like us using an Axis port, but there wasn’t much they could do about it, since the Swiss were being so very co-operative.’
‘Those bloody Swiss!’ Anna cried, ‘I bet they got a handsome cut from the Germans. All they’re interested in is money.’
Salak nodded, with his hideous smile. ‘They are not an attractive people. I rather like the comment by your Oscar Wilde — that they all look like waiters, including the mountains.’
They all laughed; the initial tension in the room had begun to dissipate.
Salak went on, ‘Then after the Allied invasion of Italy in 1943 things became more difficult. After the invasion, the Germans moved into Italy in force, and Genoa was blockaded. The Swiss had to get their fuel through Sweden, via Germany. That was another source, but it was not in my territory, so I do not know the details.
‘The southern Italian ports — Bari, Salerno, Naples — had fallen to the Allies. The only one left was Trieste, but by late 1943 it was being crippled practically every
