Chapter 50: Warehouse Network

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: Warehouse Network

I

Constantinople, Rüstem Pa?a — 6 January 1913

Zeynep laid a single sheet of paper upon the long table, and she had ruled it into four columns in her own firm hand.

"Beirut sells well, and Konya sells well, but every other province still waits ten days for a parcel from the capital," she said. "If we do not place stock nearer to the buyers, others will."

Ayaan read the columns, which gave the name of each town, the distance by road, the freight by rail or sea, and the sum of last year’s orders.

"You have chosen three towns," he said.

"Smyrna, Konya, and Trabzon." She touched each name with her pen. "Smyrna has the railway and the port, Konya has the central plain, and Trabzon has the Black Sea trade and the road to Erzurum."

"What will they cost?"

"Twelve hundred liras for all three, if each begins with a small stock and a rented shed." She looked up. "I would open them one at a time, and I would not open the next until the previous one has paid its own rent."

Elias Benveniste, who had been standing by the window with the ledger, coughed politely.

"Han?m, I have drawn a page of rules for the keeping of each warehouse," he said. "With your permission, I should like to read them before anyone is sent."

"Read them, Elias," said Ayaan. "A network is only as strong as its smallest rule."

II

Smyrna — 22 January 1913

The steamer reached the quay of Smyrna in a cold rain, and Ayaan and Elias walked to the Frank Street office of Isaac Molho before the rain had ended.

Molho was a small, quick man of fifty who had traded in dried fruit for thirty years. He had already prepared a list of three buildings.

"The first is near the customs house and costs too much," he said. "The second is near the railway and the rent is fair, and the third is cheap but stands in a damp street."

"Show us the second," said Ayaan.

They walked to a long stone shed with a slate roof and a loading yard facing the line of the Anatolian Railway. Elias knocked upon the walls, examined the floor with a candle, and found no sign of damp.

"The roof is sound, and the doors are wide enough for a wagon," he said. "I would ask for a three-year lease with an option to buy."

"The landlord will refuse the option," said Molho.

"Then we shall pay a little more rent and ask for the option in the third year," said Elias.

Molho looked at him with a degree of respect, and then he lowered his voice.

"I should tell you that a German agent has asked about the same building twice this month," he said. "He did not give a name, but he has the speech of Berlin."

Ayaan thought of Herr Brandt and of the nominee at the auction.

"Then we shall sign today," he said.

III

Constantinople, Rüstem Pa?a — 10 February 1913

The rules that Elias had drafted covered eleven pages, and Zeynep read them aloud to the assembled clerks of the warehouse.

"Every shed shall display a price board that is identical to the board at Rüstem Pa?a," she read. "Every shed shall send a count of its stock to the capital each Friday, and every shed shall be visited by a guild witness once in the year."

"And the keys?" asked Cevdet, who had come from the school library to listen.

"Two keys to the strong room, held by two different men, and neither may open the door alone." Zeynep turned a page. "A clerk who takes a gift from a customer shall be dismissed, and the gift shall be returned with a letter."

Cevdet nodded slowly, and he made a short remark.

"The rules are sound. I would add only that the Friday letters should be sealed, and that the seal should be changed each quarter."

"It shall be done," said Ayaan. "Cevdet Efendi, will you draft the sealing procedure?"

"I will draft it by Thursday."

Yakup and Selim had come from the foundry with a wooden model of a shelf, and they set it upon the table. It stood a hand’s breadth above the floor and was ribbed with slatted boards.

"The air passes beneath the reams, and the damp cannot rise," said Yakup. "?smail Usta’s men can make forty such shelves in a week."

"Then make them," said Zeynep. "Every shed shall have them, and the first shall be shipped to Smyrna on Friday."

IV

Smyrna — 20 February 1913

The first crates reached the shed at Smyrna on a bright morning, and Elias stood at the door with a pencil behind his ear.

Two porters carried the new slatted shelves inside. Isaac Molho watched them with open curiosity.

"I have kept dried figs on the floor for thirty years," he said. "It had not occurred to me that the air might be worth paying for."

"The air is the cheapest thing in the warehouse, Molho Efendi, and the damp is the dearest," said Elias. "That is the whole of my trade."

By noon the shelves were filled, the price board was hung beside the door, and the two keys of the strong room had been given to two different clerks. Elias read the first Friday letter aloud to them, so that each man heard the form it would take.

At two o’clock a stranger in a grey coat appeared in the loading yard and asked in careful Turkish for the master of the shed.

"I am the agent of a Berlin house," he said, when Elias came forward. "My principals would pay you double the rent for this building, and they would also pay you a premium for your trouble."

"The lease is registered at the consulate and runs for three years," said Elias. "The House of Hassan does not sublet."

"You are a clerk, and you decide for a House?"

"I am a clerk who has read the lease, Efendi, and that is enough for me."

The stranger bowed stiffly and walked out of the yard. Molho let out a long breath and laughed, and Elias returned to his pencil and his count.

V

Konya — 3 March 1913

Ayaan travelled to Konya by the Anatolian Railway, and Salih Efendi met him at the station with a covered cart and a basket of warm bread.

"You have come in the last cold week of the winter," said Salih. "The roads are open, and the merchants of the plain are asking about you."

They walked together to a shed beside the railway yard, a plain building with a tiled roof and two iron doors. Salih had cleaned it that morning, and a bench stood ready for the clerk.

"This is the shed that I offered in my letter," he said. "It is large enough for two thousand reams, and the station master has promised a siding."

"Who will keep it?" asked Ayaan.

"My nephew Hasan, who is twenty-four and has kept my own accounts for four years." Salih lowered his voice. "He is honest, and he is also afraid of mistakes, which is a useful fear in a clerk."

Ayaan nodded and examined the door, the floor, and the roof beams with equal care.

"The House will pay the rent, the clerk’s wage, and the cost of the shelves," he said. "You will keep your own agency, Salih Efendi, and you will receive a small share of the sales that pass through the shed."

"And the price board?"

"It will hang on the wall by the door, and every buyer will read the same figure."

Hasan came out of the shed and bowed to Ayaan with great care.

"Efendi, I have counted the shelves twice, and there are forty," he said.

Salih Efendi smiled and laid his hand upon the iron door.

"Then, with Allah’s permission, the plain of Konya will have its own House."

VI

Constantinople, Galata — 28 March 1913

The news of the fall of Edirne reached the city two days earlier, and the faces of the merchants in the Compact’s hall were grave.

Agop Kalfayan stood at the head of the table with a list of the accounts that had been held in the besieged city.

"Nineteen members of the Compact had bills upon Edirne, and the total is one thousand and sixty liras," he said. "Seven of them are guaranteed by the fund, and twelve are not."

"Which can be recovered?" asked Hac? Arif.

"None, for the present. But the guaranteed bills will be paid by the fund within the month."

Mustafa raised his hand and asked a question that no one had put.

"Is the fund sound?"

"The fund holds three thousand and ninety liras," said Zeynep, rising from her seat. "It can pay all seven bills and still retain more than two thirds of its deposit."

Several merchants spoke at once, and Hac? Arif quieted them with a gesture.

"Efendis, this is the day the fund was founded for," he said. "A fund that does not pay on the day of loss is a purse, and not a promise."

Agop nodded and the seven bills were paid before the end of the month.

Afterwards, Zeynep remained in the hall to write the notices to the seven holders, and Ayaan sat beside her and said nothing.

"Twelve of our members will not be repaid," she said at last. "I wish that I could promise them otherwise."

"You have promised them something better, which is that the House will remember them," said Ayaan. "When the border is quiet again, we will send them stock on easy terms."

She wrote the sentence into the last notice, and she signed it with her full name.

VII

Trabzon — 18 April 1913

The telegram from the new warehouse at Trabzon was brief, and it arrived in the Galata office on a bright afternoon.

Shed opened Tuesday. Price board hung. Twenty-six buyers by evening. Stock of 800 reams. First Friday count follows.

Zeynep read it aloud and laid it upon the desk.

"The clerk is a Laz boy named Osman, and Haddad’s cousin recommended him," she said. "He cannot yet read French, but he can count better than any man I have met."

"Has he sent his first letter?" asked Ayaan.

"It will come tomorrow, sealed with the new quarterly seal." She smiled. "Cevdet Efendi wrote to Trabzon to explain it, and Osman replied that he would guard it as he would guard his mother’s ring."

Ayaan stood at the map on the wall and marked the new shed with a small red pin. The pins now formed a line from the Black Sea to the Aegean and to the coast of Syria.

He remembered the small shop where he had once begun.

"It took us ten years to place the first shed in the capital," he said. "It has taken us eight months to place four more in the provinces."

"Because the first was an experiment," said Zeynep. "The rest are only the first shed repeated."

VIII

Constantinople, Emin?nü — 30 April 1913

The evening was warm, and the windows of the house stood open toward the Golden Horn.

Zeynep set the Friday counts before Ayaan, five sheets in five hands. Each sheet gave a number of reams, and each number agreed to the ream with the shed’s sales.

"Constantinople, Beirut, Smyrna, Konya, and Trabzon," she said. "The network now holds six thousand and four hundred reams, and it pays its own rent in every town."

"The Compact?" he asked.

"Thirty-six members, and two thousand nine hundred liras in the fund after the seven bills." She paused. "Faris Saad has also written from Damascus, and he asks whether the House would send a clerk to teach the Damascus members how to keep the Friday count."

Mehmed, who was now two and a half, ran into the room with a wooden ruler in his hand and laid it upon the sheets.

"It is a ream," he declared.

"It is a very straight ream," said Ayaan gravely, and he lifted the boy upon his knee.

Zeynep laughed, and the sound filled the room.

Later, when the child slept, Ayaan took the notebook from the shelf and wrote the date.

A warehouse is a promise made in stone, and a network is the same promise made in many towns.