Part 24 (1/2)
YAs.h.i.+M'S palinka splashed in the gla.s.s.
”Fevzi Pasha has disappeared? How do you know?”
Palewski frowned. ”I'm not entirely without resources, Yas.h.i.+m,” he said, stiffly. ”Even I have my networks.”
”I only meant-” He faltered. ”What does it mean, he's disappeared?”
His friend hunched forward in his chair, wrapping his hands around his gla.s.s. ”I'm not absolutely sure, Yas.h.i.+m. According to the monsignor, the Kapudan pasha was supposed to tour the islands. They never saw him, or the fleet.”
Yas.h.i.+m relaxed back into his armchair. ”That's not such a surprise. We were all supposed to think he'd taken the fleet to the islands, but in reality he was under secret orders to go south.”
”You know that?”
”I'm not entirely without resources. I have my networks.” He smiled. ”Husrev Pasha told me as much.”
”Did he say, Yas.h.i.+m, that the fleet is in port, at Alexandria?”
”Off Alexandria,” Yas.h.i.+m corrected him. ”It's a show of force.”
”That's not how it was described to me this morning.”
”I'm not sure I understand.”
”Who does? Your Kapudan pasha, Yas.h.i.+m, seems to have handed the Ottoman navy over to the Egyptians.”
”I don't believe it.”
Palewski shrugged. ”As you like. You may be right. Even Jesuits are fallible, after all.”
85.
BUT Palewski's Jesuits, however fallible, proved right about Fevzi Pasha.
At nightfall an Ottoman cutter swept in beneath Seraglio Point to deliver a trembling lieutenant at the gates of the grand vizier's offices.
”I have urgent intelligence for the grand vizier!” he cried. ”I have news of the fleet!”
The old vizier listened impa.s.sively as the lieutenant outlined the series of events, but his face grew pale.
”He took the fleet into port?”
”Yes, my pasha. We were out on patrol, so we received no orders. He sailed into Alexandria, and there was nothing. No firing.”
Husrev Pasha wiped a hand across his face. ”Your actions will not be forgotten, young man. You have a report in writing?”
The lieutenant produced his report, and Husrev laid it on the pile beside him.
”Tell me, lieutenant, how many men have you aboard your s.h.i.+p?”
”Fifteen, my pasha.”
”Good men? Loyal?”
”They strained every nerve to reach Istanbul. Unswerving, my pasha, in their devotion to the sultan's service.”
”Your words gladden my heart. They know, then, what you have just told me?”
The lieutenant bowed. ”They witnessed it. They were as stupefied as I was.”
”Of course.” Husrev's fingers moved out for the bell. Reluctantly.
”Shall I bring the s.h.i.+p in now, my pasha?”
The pasha nodded thoughtfully. ”Your cutter has not docked?”
”I've held her in the channel, awaiting your orders.”
Husrev's fingers relaxed. ”Rejoin your men. Isn't there some flag to run up the mast when you have pestilence aboard?”
”Pestilence, my pasha?”
Husrev waved a hand. ”Typhoid. The plague. A yellow flag? I've seen it.”
”The yellow flag is used for s.h.i.+ps in quarantine, my pasha.”
”That's it. Take your cutter, anchor in the Marmara roads, and fly that flag. Don't let a soul on or off your s.h.i.+p. I'll see that you get supplied. And rewarded, too.”
Light broke on the young lieutenant's face. ”We are loyal men.”
”Your loyalty is not questioned. Do exactly what I have said.”
When the young lieutenant-what was his name?-had gone, the grand vizier sat for a few minutes rubbing his eyes and pondering the news he had just heard.
He rang a bell.
”Send to the palace at Besiktas. Inform the sultan-wake him, if necessary-that the grand vizier has summoned the divan. A matter of urgency. His presence would be-advisable.”