Edward Whittemore - Jerusalem Poker

I think maybe Luigi didn't bother to mention that one to Sarah the First. No reason to alarm her after the fact, marriage being sacred and all. Merely an indiscretion in his youth, and only one night of it at that.

Cairo gazed out over the city.

Hey wait, said Joe, sitting up. Only one night in the Wallenstein castle and then on his way? How did Luigi know he'd made the wife in the castle pregnant?

Cairo flashed his smile.

That's right. How indeed?

Well he couldn't have known. So there's no way he could have passed on that information to anyone.

That information could only have come from the young and friendly wife in the Wallenstein castle.

Correct.

So where are we?

As I said, we're standing in front of a villa beside the Bosporus about a century later, contemplating the view. The year is 1911, to be exact. As we gaze at the last of the sunset over Europe we notice that a carriage is approaching the villa, its curtains drawn.

Which curtains? Carriage or villa?

Both.

Ah.

Now. The gate to the villa is situated in such a way that visitors can draw up to the entrance without being seen by observers such as us, who are seemingly standing beside the Bosphorus gazing at sunsets.

Naturally, considering the nature of the business often conducted by the person or persons unknown who reside in this villa.

Nefarious business, said Joe, that's what. I can see it coming. All manner of pranks, did you say, going on in this villa?

Perhaps. Now the two of us aren't everyday observers, we both know that, and with our superior vision we're able to see this particular visitor who has just alighted from the curtained carriage to enter the curtained villa. And we do so even though the sun has set and the villa is cloaked in impenetrable shadows.

Shadows, muttered Joe, pouring more champagne. I sense a rendezvous in the works that can't bear the light of day. Definitely a clandestine affair. Of course I already suspected that when I took careful note of the curtains over all and sundry.

Correct, said Cairo. Now can you make out the visitor who is emerging from the carriage in the shadows?

I'm peering. I honestly am. My eyes are sharply narrowed and I'm using my best night vision.

And?

And all I see is an indistinct figure.

A very small figure? asked Cairo.

Yes. Most unusually small.

A woman?

How did you know my suspicions were running in that direction? Well just wait a minute, let me check the gait and the movements. Yes, a woman all right. No question about it.

Dressed entirely in black?

Black as the hour of night. But she's not about to fool me even in those impenetrable shadows.

Is she wearing a black veil?

That she is, said Joe. Hiding her face of course. A clever and cautious woman from beginning to end.

What's that you see sticking through a hole in her veil?

How about that. A cigarette maybe? Must be a heavy smoker if she can't even wait until she gets inside to light up.

You're sure it's a cigarette?

To be frank, I'm not. It's hard to make it out from this distance, 1911 being some time ago and all. I was only eleven then and not thinking much about cigarettes.

I think it looks too long for a cigarette, said Cairo.

Precisely my thoughts.

But it could be a long thin cigar. A cheroot maybe.

Has to be a cheroot, said Joe. I was just going to say so.

Some sort of special Turkish cheroot she has made to order?

Makes sense, murmured Joe. After all we are in Turkey.

Exactly. Careful now, is that the door of the villa opening?

It is, and not making a sound in doing so. Wouldn't you just know it? Well-oiled hinges in the curtained villa in keeping with nefarious practices.

Is that a man stepping out to greet the tiny woman dressed entirely in black?

None other. A man and just as cautious and clever as the tiny woman he's greeting. Skulduggery's afoot and a romantic assignation seems a highly likely possibility.

Is the man wearing a uniform? asked Cairo.

No mistaking a uniform, said Joe. I often wear one myself and you can't fool me there.

And this host cuts a dashing figure in his uniform?

Decidedly dashing. Women along the Bosporus probably make fools of themselves when faced with that dashing figure. Although why my own uniform never has that effect I can't imagine.

Would you say he's a young man? asked Cairo.

That he is, unexpectedly so.

Do you recognize the uniform?

I'm trying, but again this distance of twenty-two years is making things less clear than they should be.

Could it be the uniform of a cavalry officer?

Joe turned and looked at Cairo.

Yes.

Dragoons?

Joe stared at Cairo.

Yes.

A lieutenant colonel of dragoons in the Austro-Hungarian Imperial Army?

Joe whistled softly.

My God, how about that. We're spying on Munk as a young man.

And his visitor, the tiny woman in black? You still don't recognize her?

No, I don't. In fact I'm pretty sure I've never seen her before.

You haven't, said Cairo emphatically. And I've never seen her either. At this point in time, 1911, there are only a handful of people in the world who would recognize her, and most of them peasants, because she has lived such a reclusive life in her little corner of the world. Only a year or two ago she emerged from strict seclusion after mourning the death of her common-law husband. And before that, and for many decades, she lived so modestly and said so little while doing so, she was generally referred to as the Unspoken. But just give her a few more years, I tell you, and she's going to become notorious. Men in high positions all over the world will know this tiny woman as the Black Hand.

Joe whistled very softly.

Sophia? Is it really Sophia coming to call on Munk?

Cairo smiled.

After emerging from mourning, Sophia has toyed with lignite mines in Albania and decided to look into oil. She's been studying the oil situation in the Middle East and has become convinced that substantial reserves are to be found along the Tigris. She wants to put a syndicate together to exploit this oil, but to do so she first needs a charter from the Ottoman government, which is in a state of terminal decay and is hopelessly corrupt. Who should she approach with bribes? The routes are multiple and devious. It is absolutely essential that she get confidential information from a disinterested observer, someone outside the government, who is both knowledgeable and thoroughly trustworthy. She has made numerous inquiries in Constantinople and the answers coincide. It appears the person to see is the brilliant young Austro-Hungarian military attaché in the capital. It's true that he's astonishingly young to be in such a position, but everyone agrees he is fully cognizant of the intrigues within the Ottoman menagerie.

Furthermore, he happens to be a scion of the most powerful financial family in central Europe, the revered House of Szondi.

That decides Sophia. The House of Szondi is run exclusively by women and therefore she trusts it.

Therefore she will go to the scion even though he is astonishingly young.

Secretly Sophia contacts the young lieutenant colonel and a meeting is arranged at his villa, just after sunset for purposes of security, a few weeks hence. The young lieutenant colonel, meanwhile, checks into Sophia's background and finds she is the head of the important Wallenstein clan in Albania. The political situation in the Balkans, never more unstable than now, is of great interest to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, therefore to its military attaché in Constantinople. Mightn't this head of an important Albanian clan have much to tell him? Mightn't this even be an assignment of the highest priority?