Kingdoms Fall - The Laxenburg Message (15 page)

“So you’re arguing that kings and queens are
all kindly and compassionate because they’re ordinary blokes on the inside.”

“No, quite the contrary. They are ordinary, as
you say, but they, or at least many of the nobility, are simply doing their
best to manage the responsibilities thrust upon then by wealth and station.
Perhaps the people expect too much.”

“Perhaps the people would like to thrust those
responsibilities on someone of their own choosing. Say, shall we have another
whisky?”

“One more, perhaps.”

           
“I have to raise the other issue again, James. Since we’re going to meet the
Athens agent, we can’t let on that he has dealings with British officers, so we
must change into civilian clothes. You can stay military on the inside, but we
can’t put this fellow at risk. And we are, technically, on holiday, you know.”

           
“As I’ve said before, David, out of uniform we would be no better than spies.”

           
“Must I force the issue?”

           
“I don’t understand the secrecy. It’s one thing to keep our military plans in
confidence, obviously, but people pretending to be something they are not is
ungentlemanly conduct.”

           
“All I know is that lives are at stake, and we shall do what is required. The
agent’s identity must remain a secret or his life would be at risk. No further
discussion is required.”

           
“Very well. Since you are so insistent, I will comply with your wishes, but I
shan’t make a habit of it.”

           
“Then we must change clothes and make our rendezvous.”

           
Without a word in response, Wilkins rose and headed up to his rooms to change.
He was somewhat uncomfortable with the clandestine aspect of the work he was to
do with Gresham. Still, it promised to be more worthwhile to the war effort
than dying in a trench at Gallipoli. He also had to admit to a slight thrill
when he holstered his American M1911 handgun beneath his civilian walking
jacket, knowing he would be walking through the streets of Athens armed and, in
effect, authorized to undertake whatever actions he deemed necessary to
complete their mission.

           
As to their mission, Gresham and Wilkins had stopped in Athens to obtain
information, yet they could already see that the situation in Greece was far
more complex than they had been told. The British diplomats who had come to meet
with King Constantine had been sent away. The King was surrounded by pro-German
advisors, German sympathizers, and actual Germans, including his Hohenzollern
Queen Regent. Gresham and Wilkins would need to be creative if they were to be
of any help to their country at all. With an American handgun under his jacket,
however, Wilkins already could sense that there might be ways to accomplish
their charge that were perhaps less than diplomatic. But Wilkins, who knew well
how to bow to princes and princesses, was at rather a loss when considering
whom to shoot.

           
It was early evening when Gresham and Wilkins, dressed in simple civilian
suits, took to the streets of Athens from the kitchen door of their hotel. The
city bustled with activity as the sun began to set and the streets cooled.
There seemed a certain pride amongst the local populace in the ancient city as
they busily swept and washed their stoops and storefronts in preparation for
the active evening commerce. Narrow streets of white-washed storefronts and
townhouses led to huge squares which surrounded the remnants of their
once-great civilization. Gresham couldn’t help but stare with awe at the
Parthenon looming above the city, a reminder of Greece’s place in the
foundation of western civilization. How could anyone have believed that some
Danish nobleman would be accepted as this ancient country’s king?

           
Gresham and Wilkins stopped to sit at a café across the street from the Athens
offices of Nash & Peters, Exports, Ltd. Wilkins’ ability to speak Greek had
already come in handy for obtaining directions through the maze of Athens’
street, but even Gresham was able to order coffee as the men sat and watched.

           
“We’ll just wait a few minutes,” Gresham said. “I’d like to see if we’ve been
followed, or if anyone comes in and out of the offices.”

           
“You think we’re being followed?”

           
“I’d just rather be certain we were not.”

           
The street was quiet and, apart from locals coming and going from their homes,
they saw no one. Neither did anyone enter or leave the offices of Nash &
Peters. Finally, Gresham decided they had waited long enough, and they crossed
the street and entered the small office
quickly.         

Inside the heavy front door was an extremely
comfortable waiting room with leather chairs, mahogany tables and a small, cold
fireplace. There were no windows, but several electrical light bulbs made the
room very bright and hot. The heavy wood doors to the partners’ offices in back
were closed tightly. Suddenly one of the doors opened, and a modestly-dressed,
older British woman entered.

           
“Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome to Nash & Peters. May I ask your
business?” She asked politely.

           
“Thank you,” replied Gresham. “We’d like to speak with Mister Nash or Mister
Peters, on a business matter.”

           
“Your name, sir?”

           
“Of course,” said Gresham. “I am Sir Thomas Bruce.”

           
“Ah, I see. And you wish to export marble statuary, I expect?”

“Indeed, from Salonika,” replied Gresham.

“Then welcome, gentlemen. You are Misters
G
and
W
, yes?” She asked.

“I’m
G
; he’s
W
.”

“You may call me
K
. There are no names
here, nor are there any Misters Peters or Nash, you should know. I am the
individual
M
sent you to meet.”

           
“You?” Wilkins asked incredulously.

           
“Yes, Mister
W
. There are a number of women in the service, I’m told.
Please enter my office as we have much to discuss.” She opened the door to her
back office and welcomed both men in to sit; she bolted the door shut behind
them and sat behind a large mahogany desk that was completely clear of papers
of any kind. She had a lean appearance but well-tended and she looked very
healthy considering her rather advanced age.

           
“Now, gentlemen, I received word from
M
that you would be coming to meet
me – everything is coded, of course – and I have a general understanding of
what you have been asked to do. My information on Salonika is quite limited,
but I have an acquaintance there you may contact. He is a young man named
Athos; he works at the spice shop at the docks, and you may tell him I sent
you. Please pay him handsomely; he reports to me on all the comings and goings
at the port in Salonika and should be most helpful to you.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” said Wilkins.
“Have you known this man, Athos, very long?”

“Athos is a very young man, little more than a
boy, but I knew his father well. I’ve lived in Greece a very long time, Mister
W
.
I came to Athens in 1882 with my husband, and he passed away many years ago
now. But I am still an Englishwoman at heart. I travel throughout the country
often and visit Salonika from time to time; it is rather dingy, but still the
largest port and second largest city in Greece. Now, if I may get to business,”
she continued, “I must tell you that the political situation in Athens is
changing quite rapidly and nearing a crisis.”

“How do you mean?” Wilkins asked.

“Just today I have learned that orders have
been issued in Bulgaria to begin the mobilization of their army. The Prime
Minister of Greece, Eleftherios Venizelos is his name, will make a demand upon
the King, who holds supreme authority over the military, to mobilize Greece’s
armies. But whether the King agrees to transfer soldiers north to protect
Serbia remains to be determined.”

“We understand the King will resist those
requests,” Wilkins said.

“That is regrettably correct. The King is most
certainly enthralled by the Germans, but his hands are not entirely free to act
as he wishes. You see, I have also learned from my little birds there is the
treaty between Greece and Serbia that has a secret military rider, a mutual
defense pact. Under the terms of this rider, each country is obligated to
supply a specific number of troops in the event of an invasion by Bulgaria.
Such an invasion now appears imminent and the King cannot completely disregard
that treaty without disgracing his family name.”

“So the King is obliged to draw up his armies
for defense.”

“In principle, yes. But, there’s a twist of the
screw. Serbia cannot provide the troops required by the treaty as they are all
currently keeping the Austrian army at arm’s length north of Belgrade and in
western Serbia. King Constantine has been advised by his German members of
court that since the Serbians cannot honor the treaty by producing the
requisite defensive troops, he can assert that Serbia has violated the treaty
and use that as his justification to keep Greece from defending its ally.”

“And what is the opinion of the Prime Minister,
Mister Venizelos?”

“Now the story gets even more interesting. The
Prime Minister has cleverly and secretly arranged for the French and British
militaries to supply troops
as a substitute
for the troops which
Serbia is obliged to supply
under the treaty. He will insist to the King
that Greece honor its treaty obligations and enter the war as an ally of Serbia
and, in effect, as an ally of the Entente. So you see, it is imperative from
our point of view that the French and British troops land at Salonika as
planned, or else we lose both Serbia and Greece and then the Balkans as a
whole.”

“We’ve been on the Turkish peninsula,” said
Gresham, “and it appears certain troops will be brought off to Salonika in the
next weeks.”

“British and French troops will also embark
from Marseille and arrive at Salonika soon,” said
K
, “but the real
question is whether they will be allowed to disembark on Greek soil. Even if
the Prime Minister is inclined to force the treaty issue, there is no
possibility of landing them in Salonika until Bulgaria actually invades Serbia.
Despite the mobilization, Bulgaria has stated publicly that it has no intent to
invade Serbia or Greece. There will have to be an overt act of war before the
landing can occur.”

“Even then, Venizelos might still bow to the
King’s wishes and refuse the British and French landing, I take it?” Gresham
asked.

“It’s certainly possible, as much as he would
regret it. The Prime Minister is not yet prepared to openly defy the King.”

“And if the King rejects the allied troops,
might the local officials in Salonika allow them to land regardless?” Wilkins
asked.

“That is a very serious matter. My answer is
possibly yes, but unless we have the consent of the Prime Minister at least,
the political situation would be untenable: Any allied landing would be
portrayed as an invasion of a neutral country. As to the Prime Minister, he has
strong support from the people of Greece; moreover, he firmly controls the
northern regions of Greece, including the Macedonian regions acquired during
the Balkan Wars. So those facts are all in our favor.”

“Then Venizelos is the key and we must have his
cooperation,” said Gresham.

“That is undoubtedly correct. Of course, he
meets frequently with the British ambassador, but Venizelos has proven cautious
absent proof that the moment of crisis is at hand.”

“And if we could provide such proof?”

“I have no doubt he would do as his conscience
dictates – he is a man of the people.”

“Who protects him?” asked Gresham.

The room fell silent, and
K
frowned in
confusion.

“Whatever do you mean, Mister
G
?”

“The Prime Minister is in a tenuous and
politically-charged situation. He surely has personal protection. Is it the
military, or the constabulary?”

“Yes, I understand now. The Gendarmerie – the civilian
authorities – support him entirely; the military, however, answers only to the
King and his German advisors,” said
K
.

“The chief of the Gendarmerie, then, is an ally
of the Prime Minister?”

“He certainly is. Vasilakos is his name.”

“Have you identified any of the German agents
in Athens?”

“Oh, yes, some. There are very many.”

“How about anyone senior enough to know what is
going on diplomatically between Germany and Bulgaria?” Gresham continued.

“There may be one or two ‘undeclared’
diplomatic subordinates who have that information. I try to track their
numerous non-diplomatic activities, and some are much more active than others.
But we have not been able to break their codes as yet, and of course they don’t
come out and tell us what they know.”

“I need names, addresses of these men,” said
Gresham.

Other books

Code of the Wolf by Susan Krinard
Summer's Road by Kelly Moran
Cut Throat by Lyndon Stacey
Lovers at Heart by Melissa Foster
Breathe: A Novel of Colorado by Lisa T. Bergren
Don't Call Me Ishmael by Michael Gerard Bauer
Two Truths and a Lie by Sara Shepard
The File on Angelyn Stark by Catherine Atkins
Avoiding Commitment by K. A. Linde