"There's Suleyman," Cooper said, indicating a tall, powerfully built Turk who waited in a coffee shop across the intersection. The Turk's black suit and dark fez gave him the look of a merchant or bureaucrat. Suleyman stood as the two marines joined him.

"Suleyman, this is General Butler."

"Efendim." The Turk bowed slightly, his voice carrying respect without subservience. "Brave men died when your ship sank, Efendi. May God show them mercy."

The marines accepted cups of strong, sweet coffee from a waiter. "Suleyman Efendi," Butler said, "you saw torpedo wakes?"

"Evet, Efendi. Three or four." Suleyman indicated several Turkish men standing across the street. "The waiter is my cousin, but it is better if we talk in the back where we are not watched." He wiped coffee from his thick, black mustache, and stood, moving his six-foot frame with the ease of an athlete as he led Butler to the rear of the building. Cooper stayed in the coffee shop, watching the street.

The carcass of a recently butchered goat hung by the back door, the metallic scent of its blood filling the small storeroom in which Butler and Suleyman talked.

"Suleyman, why do you help us?"

"From the time Sultan Mehmet captured Constantinople until this day, my family served the Osmanli. If I betray the sultan, I betray my family."

"But you help foreigners?"

"You support the sultan. Mustafa Kemal does not."

Looking at the man, and judging him, Butler decided to trust the Turk. "Can you find where the Nationalists keep the submarine?"

Suleyman smiled. "Efendi, I do not need to find it. Near Bursa a cove shelters the submarine."

"Can we send in ships?"

"Mines would sink your ships before they reached the cove, Efendi."

"How close can we land?"

"A march of one hour. I will guide you."

"Tonight, then."

"Allaha ismarladik," Suleyman said, ducking through a rear door.