Chapter 14 : The Greek Colonel

Suddenly awoken from his reverie, Samson briefly could not remember where he was. Rachel Summers, by now concerned as to his condition, rested her hand gently on his arm: ‘Alec could see you home, if you are not feeling well.’

                ‘Thank you, Mrs Summers, but I shall be quite all right. My appetite has not fully returned, you see … ’

                ‘I shall make it my business to see you eat properly! Is that all it is?’

                ‘I assure you, Mrs Summers … ’

                ‘Do please call me Rachel.’

                ‘It is nothing.’ Samson smiled. ‘You will not recognize me in a few weeks … Do you enjoy it here?’ He felt uncomfortable talking about himself.

                ‘For myself, yes, but Alec works too hard — he has thrown himself into the task too whole-heartedly, as he always does. I am afraid (I shouldn’t say this) that Admiral Tufnell, charming though he was, depended too much on his officers. We are all hoping that his replacement, whoever that may be, will be more … more … ’

                ‘Energetic?’ volunteered Samson. Rachel Summers grinned coquettishly and raised her glass to her lips. Samson guessed she was in her early thirties, with kind eyes and long dark hair, swept back and gathered in a bun, framing a pretty, rather than a beautiful face; except when she smiled. Then, it was impossible not to smile back at her. If he were Alec Summers, Samson thought, he would never tire of looking at her.

                ‘Alec takes too much upon himself. It is not wise in this climate.’ Samson noticed a few drops of perspiration on the back on her neck.

                ‘And are you certain the Mission is to be renewed?’ he asked.

                Rachel Summers stared at him quizzically: ‘Why on earth not?’ she answered, as if the whole thing was a foregone conclusion.

                ‘Yes, why on earth … ’

                ‘You have to forgive me, Major, for I have contracted Alec’s love of the service.’

                ‘You speak as if it is a contagion!’

                ‘It is, of a sort, though not life threatening (not in my case anyway). Shall we just say life consuming! There is no cure but the symptoms are mild except where the relative merits of various ships and navies are being debated.’ There was a serene quality to Rachel Summers which came from the knowledge that life had turned out exactly as she had expected. She had everything she could have wanted and wanted nothing she did not already possess.

                ‘And what is Alec’s opinion of the Greek Navy?’ inquired Samson.

                ‘The men are excellent, the ships less so. But the quality of the men does not make up for the lack of really up-to-date ships. Alec is fond of saying that if only he could have the new Turkish dreadnought with a Greek crew.’

                ‘Surely the Greeks have also ordered a dreadnought, have they not?’

                ‘A German ship with American guns, Major! Can you conceive of a worse compromise? Alec says that the ship will be completely unsuitable for the Aegean — not enough ventilation for a start. How often does the temperature exceed one hundred degrees in Hamburg, I wonder? And the American guns are said to droop after a few rounds have been fired. What good is a gun with a bend in it, unless one wants to shoot around corners?’

                ‘Please, Mrs Summers — Rachel — you have won me over! Even so, I am sure Alec will make the most of it. Perhaps the Turks also will have trouble in shooting straight. What an interesting battle that would make for.’

Sometime close to midnight Samson finally made his excuses and left the Cafe Zacharátos. The walk back to his room was invigorating though not enough to clear his head of the cheap Balkan tobacco and expensive French wine. Indeed, by the time he reached Academy Street, the cool air seemed to have had the reverse effect. He climbed the stairs unsteadily, muttering to himself and searching all the while for his key. He was still searching for it when he came to his door. It was ajar. Samson tried desperately to think straight. His revolver lay, a useless assemblage of metal, screws and springs, under a pile of shirts in a dresser drawer. If whoever it was was still in his room he must surely know of Samson’s presence on the landing; escape, in his present befuddled condition, was out of the question. Or had the intruder merely searched his room while he was at the café, as he, himself, intended to do to Triantafyllakos’ room the following night? Yet, why make it so obvious with the door left ajar? Samson decided to brazen it out. He opened the door as normal and struck a match. The burst of white light faintly illuminated an outline on the end of his bed. There was no sound. For a moment Samson fantastically hoped it might be Rachel Summers; that she had invented some pretext soon after he left the café and had somehow got to his room before him. He fumbled for another match and succeeded this time in touching the wick of the oil lamp. He turned the wick up high.

                ‘Not too much light, Major. I’m taking a big chance being here. Where have you been? Half the night I have waited here.’ It was Achilles.

                Although relieved, this really was the last person Samson wanted to see at that moment. He did as instructed, and turned the lamp down. ‘Can’t it wait. And how the deuce did you get into my room?’ His annoyance was plain.

                The dim light was not sufficient to illuminate the disconsolate look on his informant’s face. ‘I have put myself in great danger today for your benefit, Major. But, yes, it can wait. Or perhaps the French might like to know instead. They pay better than you English.’

                Although Samson was beginning to feel most unwell he could not afford to upset his new agent. ‘For a start, I haven’t paid you anything yet, Achilles. However, if the information is of use you will not find me ungenerous. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Please tell me what it is to have caused all this excitement and for you to have taken the dangerous expedient of coming to my room.’

                Suitably mollified and ignorant of the implied reprimand, Achilles recounted the activities of the day, barely able to contain his own excitement. ‘I tell you last night of the message from Humann … ’

                ‘Yes,’ interrupted Samson, as he massaged his forehead, ‘I think it has something to do with weapons being hidden somewhere.’

                Slowly, imperceptibly at first, Achille’s position had moved in relation to the oil lamp. Then it was the lamp’s turn to move. Shadows merged with light. Samson slowly craned his head through a shallow arc. There was a voice: ‘Major! Major! What is wrong?’

                Achilles grabbed Samson’s arm, fearing he was about to fall. The Major jerked back upright: ‘I’m sorry; not well,’ he explained apologetically. He rose falteringly, made it to the dresser, poured some water into the bowl there, removed his glasses and splashed his face. It didn’t help. Achilles laughed: ‘A wise man knows when he has had enough, Major. I shall call you Dionysus after this.’ Samson wished he did not have to put his glasses back on as the pressure they exerted behind his ears exacerbated the pain in his head; but he felt vulnerable without them. He needed to be able to see Achilles’ face. He splashed his face again, dried it with the stiff cotton towel, and took a series of deep breaths. They resumed their positions: Achilles on the end of the bed, Samson seated precariously on a rickety chair.

                Achilles continued as if the intervening scene had not just occurred. ‘As I say, Major, the message from Humann comes yesterday and the Minister becomes very anxious but that is no surprise as Herr Quadt is always anxious! Then today, a code message from Hoffmann.’ At the mention of that name again Samson fought harder to regain his senses. Had it been Hoffmann in his room, and not Achilles, he realized that, by now, he would be sprawled across the bed, in the casual attitude of death, the blood from the neat slit under his chin seeping into the mattress. The vision faded as Achilles continued: ‘There were many people around today. I could not get near Quadt’s door, but I do hear something before the door is fully closed. It is not much — that there is to be a delay. Hoffmann says he learns that “F” now needs more time but that he will try to persuade him otherwise. But that if “F” once suspects why Hoffmann wants him to act immediately Hoffmann’s usefulness is at an end.’

                ‘Do you know how much more time is required?’

                ‘No; not at first. Then Professor Karo arrives. He is smiling, unconcerned. It is just his usual daily visit. I am near the entrance. I look back inside. Quadt comes out of his room when he hears Karo’s voice. He still looks anxious.’ Achilles suppressed a smile at the thought of the nervous little German Minister caught in a web of espionage not of his making and clearly wishing he were somewhere else. ‘Quadt takes Karo by the arm and guides him into his room. I hear Quadt say: “It goes tonight”.

                Samson interrupted once more: ‘How can there be a delay if it goes tonight?’ The Major wished his informant would get to the point.

                ‘Whatever it is,’ continued Achilles at his own pace (wishing also to impress upon Samson the certainty he felt that he was cut out to be a spy), ‘there is much commotion. I must find out what all the excitement is about. Everyone is now in the Minister’s office. The room next to Quadt’s belongs to the First Secretary, who is also with the Minister. I take another big chance. If caught I can say I do not understand what they are saying; I have just come to look for the First Secretary. It’s good, isn’t it? I go into First Secretary’s room. No one can see me so I put my ear to the door that joins the two rooms. There are many voices. I can hear Quadt and Karo and von Falkenhausen, the Military Attaché, and also another voice I don’t know at first. This voice speaks German but is not German. It is a Greek voice. Quadt asks this Greek to repeat what he has just said to him privately. There is silence. Then I hear Quadt say, ‘It is all right, Colonel, what you say will go no further than these walls. It is good joke, Major.’ Even Samson had to smile at that. ‘This Greek doesn’t like dealing with too many different people; he is cautious. Quadt speaks again: “Herr Professor Karo,” he says in a pompous voice, “performs a valuable service for us. More valuable than you can perhaps imagine.” The Greek relents. That will please Karo. If you ask me, he thinks he can do Quadt’s job better than Quadt.’ Achilles paused and refreshed his memory by referring to some rough notes he had managed to scribble as he listened at the door. So, thought Samson, he doesn’t like it when I make notes but is quite happy to do so himself, in circumstances far more likely to lead to their discovery.

                Achilles continued: ‘The Greek says: “I am authorized by His Majesty to seek an alliance with your Imperial Majesty’s Government on the following terms: His Majesty requires his country’s recently enlarged boundaries to be safeguarded against attack by any other Balkan state. This includes Turkey. The proposed alliance is to be defensive in character. Greece has no further territorial ambitions nor aggressive intent. We are a small country surrounded by potential enemies. In return, His Imperial Majesty will be able to count on Greek support in any future diplomatic upheaval in this region.” At that point someone, I think von Falkenhausen, asks, “What about military support?” The Greek Colonel continues: “Our army is small but of good quality. However, unless we can count on immediate reinforcement by German troops, we would be exposing ourselves to possible annihilation without any benefit to His Imperial Majesty. There is, however, one tangible benefit we can offer. You are aware of course that we have at present a French Military Mission and a British Naval Mission. For obvious reasons we wish to maintain these, but we are still free to chose where we purchase our weapons and ships. I can guarantee that your armaments’ representatives would receive a very sympathetic hearing. You know already, perhaps, that our navy is in the market for a battle cruiser?”

                ‘Then von Falkenhausen interrupts rudely: “But you would rather keep your French ‘75s’?” That took the wind out of his sails! The Greek mutters something about the Krupp ‘77’ being a good gun and then there is an awkward silence. For a moment I thought the meeting might be at an end and I am about to go back to my post when I hear Quadt again: “Come gentlemen,” he says in that oily voice, “these are mere details, which can be worked out later. The main point is the alliance request. I am sure there will be no problem in acceding to this generous offer. Then, Colonel, we can discuss your precise military requirements, can we not?” The Colonel has recovered his composure now. “And our other scheme,” he asks, “all is in readiness?” Quadt answers: “Yes, Colonel, we are ready to spring the trap. Hoffmann will not fail. And when it is done, thanks will be due to Professor Karo here, who I am sure will be suitably rewarded by your Government for his efforts. Well, Karo, what do you think?” Again there is silence, then I hear laughter — great laughter. I think there is no more to listen to, so I run back to my chair by the front entrance. The Minister’s door opens; I am out of breath, but no one pays any attention — no-one notices the porter! First bon Falkenhausen emerges, then Karo and the Greek Colonel, then Quadt and the First Secretary. Karo and the Greek walk right past me and go down the Legation steps together in broad daylight!’

                ‘So they weren’t worried about being recognized?’

                ‘Perhaps they are being clever. Why should not a member of the Greek General Staff visit the German Legation? Do you not receive similar visitations?’

                Samson remembered that afternoon seeing the pair walk down the Legation steps. ‘It sounds to me as if you know who this Greek Colonel is.’

                ‘Yes,’ hissed Achilles, ‘Colonel Metaxas.’ Samson looked blankly at his informant. ‘You will hear more of this Metaxas in future, Major, of this I am sure. Metaxas and Karo part at the bottom of the steps but I can hear no more of what they say. Then, behind me, Quadt calls to Falkenhausen who is on his way to the cipher room to send Metaxas’ message to Berlin: “This alliance request changes matters — we need an answer from Berlin before we act. But this is perfect! Tell Hoffmann to wait. He is not to persuade “F” to act. If he wants to persuade him to do anything it should be to stay his hand — we must have another week. If “F” is to delay in any case, well and good. If not, Hoffmann must buy us another seven days at least. That should be possible, even if his usefulness is at an end as a result. The plan will fail otherwise. Do you understand? You had better inform Humann as well.” Falkenhausen nods and I see Quadt’s face again. He is still nervous but I see a change, almost a smile. Everything has suddenly come right with his world. His walk back to his office is … ’ Achilles sought to retrieve the right word.

                ‘Sprightly?’ ventured Samson.

                Although not quite sure this was the precise word he was searching for, Achilles was happy enough to agree: ‘Yes, sprightly!’

                ‘Was “Metriticicas” mentioned during the meeting with Metaxas?’

                ‘No, Major, why do you ask?’ Achilles looked hard at Samson. Despite their short acquaintance he already realized that every one of the Major’s questions had a distinct purpose. Then it occurred to him: ‘You think Metaxas is Metriticicas?’

                ‘Perhaps; it must be someone high up in Government circles here in Athens.’

                ‘A traitor?’

                ‘Not necessarily; shall we just say someone who thinks Greece’s future is tied to that of Germany’s. After all, you yourself … ’

                ‘That is different, Major. Your country has no interest in Greece. You leave us alone. Besides, you do not know my reasons.’

                ‘And what may they be?’

                ‘My reasons are my own.’ Achilles had made his report and was now trying to gauge the response. As was the case for Mavrogordato, Samson now had to decide whether he could trust Achilles. Samson had already formed his own opinion, which was that Achilles was genuine if prone to exaggerate his own worth. He was glad that his fortuitous sighting of Karo and the Greek Officer on the Legation steps that afternoon leant credence to Achilles’ story. There was one other test which could be applied.

                ‘By the way,’ inquired Samson nonchalantly, ‘do you know any more than you have already told me about Professor Geroulanos?’

                Achilles slapped his forehead in mock retribution. ‘I almost forgot: that’s the other thing I mean to tell you. I got carried away with Metaxas. The Professor, like Karo, also visits regularly. He was in today, before Metaxas arrived. Do you know him? He makes me shiver, but today he is different. Looking as nervous as Quadt.’

                ‘Who did he see?’

                ‘Let me think. There’s so much to remember.’ Achilles rubbed his chin. ‘No, I don’t know — it might have been Falkenhausen; I can’t be sure.’

                ‘Did you overhear anything?’ Samson was desperate for any piece of information which might assist in his confrontation with Geroulanos and Skinas on Monday.

                ‘Sorry, Major.’

                ‘But he was definitely nervous?’ Samson could not believe that anyone who exhibited the self-control he attributed to Geroulanos could ever be betrayed by nerves.

                ‘Something had upset him; that’s for certain.’

                ‘You have done well. Very well! I think the time has come to discuss terms.’

                ‘Thank you, Major. I was hoping you would find my report of interest. My terms are a thousand a month.’

                Samson coughed involuntarily. ‘A thousand?’

                ‘Yes, Major. I will prove my worth. Eventually you will think it a bargain.’

                ‘I would think it more a bargain if it were six hundred a month.’

                ‘Yours is a rich country, Major, and I am a poor spy.’

                ‘Eight hundred?’ ventured Samson. Achilles did not even deign to acknowledge such a derisory offer. Then Samson had an inspiration: ‘Eight hundred now, rising by fifty a month so long as the information continues.’

                ‘One hundred a month.’

                Achilles felt demeaned at bargaining for his services; Samson was trapped and he knew it. ‘Very well, then. Eight hundred now, rising by one hundred a month, but for that I need more information of this quality.’

                ‘I give my word Major,’ and Achilles extended his hand.

                ‘You can make a start by finding out who this Metriticicas is. And do make sure that you destroy those notes. It would not do either of us any good should they be found on you. You will have to rely on your memory from now on.’

                ‘I work in the theatre, sometimes, Major. I’m good at learning my lines. No more notes.’

                ‘Your memory is accurate, I trust? Are you sure that Quadt referred yesterday to “The White Tower”? I cannot seem to make any sense of that part of your information.’ Samson did not like to make this admission.

                ‘Yes, Major, I am sure. Quadt said “the White Tower is now complete”: “weiß turm” — what else could it be?’

                ‘Was there anything else at all? Anything to help? In what context … Did Quadt say any more? I know there is much to remember, but it is important.’ Samson rubbed his temples gingerly.

It was clear that Achilles was straining to recall; behind tightly closed eyes he reviewed the scene in the German Legation (even to the extent of recalling privately how fearful he had been) and muttered occasionally to himself as he did so. After an interval he opened his eyes and stared at Samson. ‘It is just as I told you, Major. The message was “All goods in place. Precise co-ordinates to follow. Hoffmann reports “F” is ready to strike at any moment. Warn “Metriticicas”. Am returning Constantinople, arriving 22nd.” Then Quadt said, “So you see, Gentlemen, what I previously referred to as “The White Tower” is now complete.” Then he says to Geroulanos, “I hope your country will make better use of them than the Turks.” Then Karo says: “It is to be Chaeronea all over again,” and Geroulanos says, “only the positions are reversed.” Then Karo says, “It sits on its hill, glistening, ruined, deserted, but hiding all the while its deadly secret.” Then Quadt again: “And with it, we can place our opponents in check. This is why I like to refer to it in that manner. The one piece on the board they will not be expecting — yes, an excellent analogy, Gentleman, the “White Tower” awaits our impulsive King.” That was all, Major, I swear.’

‘You didn’t tell me before of the end of the conversation.’

‘It didn’t seem important, Major. If I am truthful, I did not understand it. I am not a chess-player.’

                Samson turned down the oil lamp and escorted Achilles to the door. It was now past one and he wanted desperately to sleep. But there was one other thing: ‘By the way — Hoffmann’s telegram that there may be a delay. Do you know where it originated?’ It was plain that Achilles did not immediately understand. ‘Where was it sent from?’

                ‘Oh yes, Major — Sofia. It originated in Sofia,’ announced Achilles, obviously pleased with himself.

                So, Hoffmann was in Bulgaria.

Despite the knowledge that his most dangerous adversary was far away, and despite the excess of alcohol he had earlier consumed, the Major found himself initially unable to sleep. He opened his notebook and, for want of anything better, jotted down the plaintive query of Achilles: “weiß turm” — what else could it be? ‘What else could it be,’ he repeated to himself. But the White Tower in Salonica was not on a hill. Samson stared at the two words, trying to imagine the conversation which had taken place and been overheard by Achilles. He read his earlier notes of Achilles’ first report. In addition to the new information, there was one other difference. According to the latest telling, Quadt had already referred to the “White Tower” before Achilles began to eavesdrop. It was, Samson surmised, at this time that he had explained its meaning to the co-conspirators. Achilles had arrived by the half-opened door seconds too late. Another missed opportunity; his life was a litany of them. Samson imagined Quadt dressed as a chess piece, the all-powerful Queen, while Karo was the stealthy bishop, waiting to pounce, and Geroulanos was the knight, whose moves were never straightforward. His own part in this imaginary game was obvious — the pawn. He was only concerned with his next move, one step forward in a fixed direction, while Quadt was already plotting many moves ahead.

Samson closed his eyes but could not rid himself of the over-powering image of the giant chess board peopled with human pieces. The Queen, bishop and knight were represented of his opponents pieces by Quadt, Karo and Geroulanos. That left one main attacking piece still to be occupied — the rook. Was Humann to be that piece? Was Humann to be the white castle? Samson suddenly sat bolt upright. Quadt’s analogy was revealed to him. In German, “Turm”, he knew meant ‘tower’ but, when applied to chess, it also meant a castle. What if, listening nervously at the door, Achilles had misheard? What if the word had not been “weiß” — “white” — but “weib” — woman? As he admitted not knowing anything of chess, in the context of the conversation, weib turm — “woman castle” — would not mean anything to Achilles, whereas weiß turm— “white tower” — clearly would. Striving to make sense of what he had overheard, Achilles had come to a false conclusion. It was “The Woman Castle” which was now complete. The final solution of the mystery was, after all, to be found at Avret Hissar. Samson lay back on his bed, and was soon asleep.