The Mule on the Minaret (24 page)

‘Why should I have?'

‘Indeed, why should you have? Your father fought the British in the First War. Your uncle was killed by them. They dismembered the Ottoman Empire. But for them you would be the heir to a rich estate. The sooner they lose this war, and they will lose it, the better for us all. You would welcome, wouldn't you, an opportunity to help hasten the ending of the war?'

‘I would welcome it.'

‘It is a relief to have you say that. Then I do not have to threaten you. And I could threaten you. You realize that, don't you? If I were to hand over this letter to the police you would be arrested within an hour. And who would believe your story about a member of the secret police who is working for the Germans? You do not know my name. You do not know my address. You do not know my occupation. They would laugh at you. Even if they half
believed your story, how could they do anything to me? How could they find me? I am invulnerable. But luckily I do not have to threaten you. You are happy to collaborate; and it will prove profitable for you. The Germans are rich and generous. Did this tradesman pay you any money?'

‘He gave me some gramophone records.'

‘The Germans can do better than that. They will give you money with which to buy gramophone records. How many records did this man Fadhil give you?'

‘He has given me four so far.'

‘We can do better than that. But the Germans pay by results. You must remember that. Money will arrive when you deliver your first instalment; and with that money will be this photostat. Is that quite clear?'

‘It's clear.'

‘You are prepared to meet my friend at the German Embassy?'

‘I am prepared.'

‘Then we will meet three days from now. At the same time, but at the Café Florian.'

Next morning Eve took down in shorthand Chessman's account of the interview. As she transcribed the notes she experienced the same mounting excitement that she had earlier at her flat; an excitement compounded of the same conflicting ingredients; the basic espionage drama of the operation, the sense of protective pity, a curious possessive thrill, the thought, ‘this is my victim.' She could picture Aziz sitting there while Chessman wound his ropes slowly round him; her finger held the knot while he brought the ends together; yet mingled with a gloating that was near to cruelty was the consoling tenderness, the knowledge that she could make amends, assuaging the wounds she had inflicted. And in three days' time she would be taking down Chessman's account of the interview with the German. What a tightening of knots I

The meeting took place with the same smoothness. Again there was only one man, the same man in the Chevrolet. ‘Our friend is meeting us at my apartment,' he explained. ‘He will be wearing civilian clothes, but he is a soldier. Address him as Herr Kapitän.'

The Captain was tall and spare, clean-shaven, with light coloured hair that he wore long. He did not look particularly German. He did not look particularly anything. He leapt to his feet as Aziz and Chessman entered, clicked his heels, stretched out his right
arm and barked, ‘Heil Hitler!' Aziz and Chessman followed suit.

‘Do you speak German?' the Captain asked. Aziz nodded. ‘Good, then we will speak German. It is said that many Turks speak French now instead of German, as they did thirty years ago. That will be altered when our victorious armies have established the Pan-German peace. I am glad to see, young man, that you cherish the ideals and traditions of your ancestors. I have brought with me a bottle of schnapps. Let us have three small glasses and let us toast the glories of the Third Reich and its friendship with our good friends in Turkey.'

The spirit was poured; glasses were clicked; ‘Heil Hitler!' and then drained.

‘Let us now sit,' said the Captain. ‘Our friend here, whom I call Heinrich though it is not his name, tells me that you are ready to help our noble cause by supplying information from the Lebanese; let us consider what information you can give us. Your aunt is a rich woman. Does she entertain?'

‘Yes, she entertains.'

‘Whom does she entertain?'

Aziz described the social milieu in which his aunt and uncle moved. The German nodded. ‘That could be very useful. We want to know how the Lebanese feel towards the French. They, of course, are anxious to be rid of them. They are technically independent, but the French are in control everywhere. They own all the public services. They control the banking. The Lebanese are astute. They will try to get the British on their side; they will foment ill feeling between the French and British. That should not be difficult. The French have an hereditary distrust of the British. They have always believed that the British want to take over Syria and Lebanon from them, so that the sphere of British influence can run straight from Cairo to Aleppo. They believe, and very likely they are correct in thinking so, that the British are welcoming this opportunity to enlarge their raj. It is very important that we should know what the Lebanese are planning; or rather what they are concocting. Trouble in the Levant would be of the greatest assistance to our forces in the Western Desert. We want to exacerbate those differences of opinion. It will be useful for us to learn how we can do that most effectively. We can do it with propaganda. We can also send funds to subversive elements. Information from you may be extremely useful. Do you know anybody in Spears Mission?'

Aziz nodded. ‘There are two officers I know very well. One of them was a history and philosophy Professor at an English University. He is often a guest at my aunt's house. He has been sympathetic and kind to me.'

‘And the other?'

‘A younger man. He worked for an oil company before the war.'

‘Do you know what their duties are in the Mission?'

‘Propaganda. Public relations.'

‘Excellent, excellent. See as much of them as you can. Anything they may have to tell you is of interest. General Spears is an important figure. He has Winston Churchill's confidence. His point of view is accepted in London. It was he who established de Gaulle as the leader of the Free French Movement. But we believe that he and de Gaulle are no longer the best of friends. Keep close to those two officers; you may learn a lot from them. There are other points, of which you might not recognize the importance, but of which we should; for instance, the kinds of troops you see in the streets. If there are Indians try to find out from what part of India they come. If you see more or fewer Australian hats, let us know that. Unusual movement of military transport; shipping; the arrival of any large liner. Nothing is too trivial to tell us.

‘Then there is another thing: keep on the look-out for any young Lebanese who are coming up to Turkey and might be of assistance, who would do for us what you are doing. If anyone expresses, I won't say pro-German sentiments, but anti-French, anti-British sentiments, let us know about them. If they come up here, we'll contact them.

‘Now, our method of communication. Correspondence through the post is dangerous, even with secret ink, even if the secret writing is done very well. These censors have a trained sense. Something in the letter may strike them as peculiar. There seems no purpose in it. They keep a watch on the man who wrote it. If another of his letters looks unnatural, they test it for secret ink. We cannot risk that. You saw what happened to your letter to Ahmed. We must suppose that the first letter had wakened the censor's suspicions. He tested the second letter. We must be on our guard. We will follow another method. You know the Turkish café in Babedris. Go there every Monday evening at 6.15. Take with you a copy of the
Palestine Post.
Go to a table in the centre of the room; order a coffee, put your paper down beside you. Make your coffee
last half an hour. It may be that a man with the
Palestine Post
will sit beside you. After a little while he, too, will put down his paper, wait a few minutes, then prepare to leave. You pick up his paper instead of yours. You will take the paper back to your home. On the inside page where there is blank paper you will find some questions in secret ink. You will also find instructions as to where you are to deliver a copy of the
Palestine Post
with your reply to the questions. The same method of the exchange of papers will be followed. But you cannot be certain that every Monday somebody will arrive at your table reading the
Palestine Post.
If no one arrives you must go away after half an hour. But no matter what happens you must go there every Monday, and always there must be some message in secret writing on your paper.

‘It may be that strangers will sit at your table. If that happens there is no remedy. You must sit at the table just the same. The staff of the café must become acquainted to your attendance. I would advise you to go on other days of the week; to become a client, in fact. But always, whatever happens, you must be there every Monday at 6.15. Is Monday at 6.15 a convenient time for you?'

‘I will ensure that it is.'

‘Excellent. Then that is all.'He rose to his feet, clicked his heels, extended his right arm, barked ‘Heil Hitler!'

‘We then took our leave,' Chessman concluded.

When Chessman had gone, Eve stayed behind. ‘There's one thing more. It's a confession really. I'm afraid I went beyond my instructions, but when Aziz was looking despondent about not being able to take back information to Fadhil, I suggested that I might be able to get those facts for him and that he could take them back by hand. I suppose I shouldn't have said that?'

‘I suppose you shouldn't, technically, but one has to trust one's instinct sometimes; instinct is more often right than wrong, far more often, nine times in ten I'd say. This was before he'd met Chessman, I assume.'

‘Yes.'

‘And, of course, he was worried about those records. The situation is different now; but all the same it might be as well for him to continue his transaction with Fadhil. It will keep the two operations separate in his mind. And it is important that he shouldn't confuse the information that he is getting for Beirut from Turkey with what he is getting for Turkey from Beirut. This may help him
to keep them separate. The poor fellow probably does not know which way to turn at this actual moment. But . . . how did you leave it at the end?'

‘He was going to call me before he left.'

‘Did you feel that he would?'

‘I have some records that he wants to hear.'

‘In that case, maybe he will come. Well, let's see. If he does come it can't do any harm. It may do good.'

‘There's no reason why he shouldn't see me, is there?'

‘None at all. He's seeing our boys in Beirut. He thinks that they are in public relations. You're in the same position that they are. The more tags we have on him the better.'

‘In that case then . . .' She hesitated. ‘Do you think the operation is important?'

He shrugged. ‘We can't tell yet. It's another iron in the fire, we contact the Germans through him. Our boys in Beirut will photostat those copies of the
Palestine Post
before they reach Aziz. We shall learn from them what the Germans want to know.'

‘But we can't send up the answers we want them to have.'

‘I know we can't.'

‘Mayn't he send up some information that we would rather they didn't have?'

Sedgwick shook his head. ‘Nine times in ten it does not matter what they know as long as we know they know it. If Aziz did tumble on to something genuinely secret—he is very unlikely to, but he might—then we would have to burn the newspaper. The man who collects the paper in the café is going to take it to Farrar before he takes it to the Germans. It will be interesting to know what Aziz finds out. We must not forget that he is a genuine spy. He'll be doing his best to make discoveries. We are well up on the deal. We shall be learning what the Germans don't know and what they want to know. They're working in the dark, we're working in the light. What did Aziz want for Fadhil?'

‘A routine question about German imports. The quantity and price.'

‘I can find that out easily. I'll give it to you tomorrow.'

*   *   *

In Beirut the reports were received with mixed feelings on the third floor of the M.E.S.C. building. The situation was not
developing as Farrar had intended, though it was possible that it could be developed in that direction later.

‘We want to send up to the Germans the kind of information that we want them to have. I hoped that we should be able to do that through Aziz; now we can't. We shall have to find another agent for that purpose. That should not be impossible. The Germans want Aziz to give them names of men going up to Istanbul who would be likely to work for them. We must see that Aziz meets such a man. It is up to Abdul Hamid to find him for us. It may take a little time. But there's no hurry.'

He paused. That morning the wireless news had reported that Burma had been overrun. ‘It's strange, isn't it, that I should be saying there's no hurry, when in one area every second counts. Twelve months ago everything was touch and go here in the Middle East, particularly in Iraq. Baghdad had been evacuated; the women and children were in an R.A.F. cantonment at Hab-baniya; prominent civilians were in a state of siege in the British Embassy; German aircraft were at Mosul. German staff officers were in Baghdad itself; the former German consul was back to organize the take-over. It was a question of days, one might say of hours, whether the British relief forces got there before the Germans. But we did get there and the revolution collapsed. The same thing happened here in Lebanon, a few weeks later, when we attacked the Vichy French. Everything turned on a few hours; while in Malaya the rubber planters were coming down to Penang and Singapore for wild week-ends; they weren't bothering about us. Today the situation is reversed. Everything is tranquil here. Everything is tranquil in Iraq. As long as Rommel is held in the Western Desert, we can afford to say, “There isn't any hurry.” '