Deep State (The Acer Sansom Novels Book 4)

by Oliver Tidy

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Because my family is involved in deep state. They are. I’m not. I know that my family was directly involved in his disappearance. We don’t know for sure, we just hope, that when your daughter fled back to Syria, she brought with her the evidence Efe Erdem had gathered during his investigations.’

  ‘Why do you want it, if she did?’

  Acer said, ‘I can use it as a bargaining tool to get my daughter back.’

  Zeynep said, ‘And I can use it to gain my freedom and my sister’s freedom from my family.’

  ‘By exposing them? That would be dangerous for you.’

  Zeynep said, ‘By threatening to expose them. The political climate in Turkey these days would make revelations of membership of deep state catastrophic for anyone accused of it.’

  The man made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat. ‘My daughter did bring things back with her when she returned. The cardboard box on my desk. For her own reasons, she asked me to keep it here rather than at our home.’

  They all turned to look at the box.

  Zeynep said, ‘Will you let us look at it?’

  ‘Yes, I will. If for no other reason than it was a false flag operation that took my daughter from me. To use what she thought important enough to carry all the way from Istanbul to here – to risk her life for – against a society that practices such heinous crimes on its own people would, I’m sure, meet with her approval. Especially as it was deep state that robbed her of her future husband and happiness. There is a certain justice in the idea.’

  He stood and crossed to his desk, picked up the box and brought it back to them. He set it on the table between them. ‘I shall leave you to investigate. You would like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?’

  They accepted the offer of coffee.

  He said, ‘How did you get here? To this part of Syria? Access and travel is highly restricted.’

  Acer said, ‘We came across from east Aleppo early this morning.’

  Professor Dardari raised his eyebrows at that. He said, ‘Covertly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And how and when do you propose to go back?’

  ‘Tonight. The same way: head down and run, dodging snipers’ bullets. We have friends waiting for us on the other side.’

  Professor Dardari left to organise their drinks.

  As soon as he was out of the door, Zeynep and Acer made eye contact. Zeynep said, ‘What are you waiting for?’

  ‘You. What are you waiting for?’

  Zeynep put the box on the floor, folded back the top and lifted out two ring-binder folders. Under these were many loose documents and computer printouts. She set the folders on the table. They took one each.

  For a minute or more the only sound in the room was the turning of the plastic leaves with documents inside them. Acer flipped his shut and put it back on the table. Zeynep looked at him and said, ‘Nothing?’

  ‘It’s all in Turkish. I can’t understand a bloody word. What about you?’

  Zeynep shook her head and said, ‘Some interesting stuff. Nothing that I can see of any earth-shattering importance.’ She sounded understandably disappointed.

  She flicked quickly through the remainder of her folder and then set it down on the table. She picked up the folder Acer had been looking at. Acer bent to push about the papers still in the box.

  Zeynep said, ‘Oh!’

  ‘What is it? Something we can use? Zeynep?’

  ‘Ssshhh, I’m reading.’

  He let her finish.

  She looked up at him and there was an alteration in her pallor. She said, ‘If these documents are original. . .’

  ‘What? Is it good stuff? For us?’

  ‘This could be important.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  The shock, perhaps horror, of her discovery continued to warp her features. She took a moment in which she looked to be ordering her thoughts. She said, ‘In 1993, Turgut Ozal, the president of Turkey, died of a heart attack. His wife has always claimed that he was assassinated. The fact that there was no autopsy performed led a lot of people to suspect she was right and that he had been poisoned.’ She waved an official-looking document. ‘The blood samples that were taken from his body to determine the cause of death were conveniently lost. And then he was buried without an opportunity for more to be taken.’

  Acer said, ‘Why didn’t they just exhume the body and take some more? If he was such an important man and the accusations had some merit, that wouldn’t have been a problem, would it?’

  ‘It would if those relied upon to give permission for such a thing were complicit in his death and refused. Anyway, he was exhumed, but not until 2012.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘His remains contained unusually high levels of certain toxins.’

  ‘So he was poisoned?’

  ‘There were arguments and counter-arguments. Some claimed that the toxins could have got into his body from contaminated soil around his grave. They found it hard to be conclusive.’

  ‘But?’

  She held up the paper in her hand, about to speak, when the door opened and Professor Dardari entered balancing a tray with three small cups of coffee on it. He shut the door and brought it across to where they sat. Acer cleared a space and the old man set it down and sat with a small sigh.

  Professor Dardari said, ‘Have you found anything useful?’

  Zeynep said, ‘Yes. I think so. There is some very interesting documentation here.’

  He did not ask to see it, to have it explained to him. He lifted the delicate little teacups and saucers off the tray and passed them to them. They offered their thanks.

  Zeynep said, ‘Will you let us take it back to Istanbul?’

  Professor Dardari sipped his coffee and said, ‘It is of no use to me. The box and its contents have sat in my office since the day my daughter came home. A reminder of a part of her life that brought her pain and suffering. I do not enjoy being reminded of that. I prefer to remember her in happier times. There is nothing I can or would do with it. Better it is put to the use it was intended for. Yes, you may take whatever you need with you.’

  To Zeynep, Acer said, ‘How much of it will be worth taking?’

  She blew out her cheeks and said, ‘I can go through it. Sift it. Make a judgment call but. . .’

  Acer said, ‘But if it’s here, it must all be important, right?’

  She nodded. ‘I’d hate to leave something behind, just one piece of paper that we could have used. To be honest, this stuff needs going through very carefully.’

  Professor Dardari said, ‘And it is often the case, is it not, that parts of a puzzle mean little on their own, whereas when they are laid together they can mean everything?’

  That decided them. It would all have to go back to Istanbul. Acer regretted out loud the fact that they no longer had their backpacks with them. He felt that with both packs they might have got everything in them.

  Zeynep said, ‘We know where they are. If we take the box back with us we can organise the packs then.’

  Acer said, ‘I haven’t decided whether we will be going back the way we came across, yet. I didn’t like the way we left things. We could walk back into the arms, in both senses of the word, of a waiting patrol.’

  ‘But we need the radio to communicate with Tanner. And there is no reason for them to think that we’ll be going back, is there?’

  ‘If I were in their position, I’d at least consider it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we didn’t just cross over. We came with considerable support. That should make them think we are important enough for such trouble to be gone to and that possibly the reasons for our visit are temporary. It would make sense that we’d head back under cover of darkness.’

  They had the problem of how to carry the box and its contents. They agreed that something like that could encourage attention if they were surprised by a checkpoint or a patrol that they couldn’t avoid w
ithout causing suspicion. The deaf-and-dumb routine might work again, but if anyone demanded to see inside the box, they could be in trouble.

  Professor Dardari said, ‘I have a friend at the university who has a car. I could speak with him. Perhaps he would drive you near to where you need to be.’

  Acer said, ‘Thank you. That’s a generous offer. Is he. . . trustable? Sorry, that doesn’t sound very grateful.’

  ‘He is trustable. He is also anti-regime, like me, but for different reasons. I’m sure he will help if he can.’

  Zeynep said, ‘We don’t want to put anyone at risk.’

  Professor Dardari said, ‘Our lives are lived permanently in danger of one sort or another. A little more won’t matter.’

  It was settled. And they needed the help. The old man crossed the room to use his desk telephone. As he spoke quietly with his friend, Acer said, ‘You’re sure about this?’

  Zeynep said, ‘I think I would feel safer in a car with two old men than hurrying through the streets of regime-occupied Aleppo with a box of documents that could get me stopped and then arrested. We managed it once, Acer. Maybe we shouldn’t push our luck.’

  If he’d been on his own, Acer would have preferred the freedom of being on foot. But he wasn’t on his own. It was a joint effort – the decisions were not all his to make. Without looking particularly happy about it, Acer said, ‘OK. Let’s hope Lady Luck is smiling on us.’

  Professor Dardari covered the mouthpiece and said to them, ‘My friend says it would be better for us to travel sooner rather than later in the afternoon. The roads are safer and the patrols less vigilant before dark falls.’

  Acer said, ‘We can leave anytime he’s ready.’

  The old man turned back to continue his telephone conversation.

  They put the folders back in the box and sealed the lid by folding the four top panels in on each other. Then they sat and waited for Dardari to finish his call.

  He replaced the phone in its cradle. ‘He has commitments for the early part of the afternoon, as have I. He will let me know when we should prepare to leave. You are welcome to stay in this office until that time. In fact, I would suggest strongly that you do. Not everyone in the university will be as sympathetic to your cause as my friend and me.’

  Acer and Zeynep agreed that it would be better to stay out of sight. They thanked Dardari for his offer and said they’d stay where they were.

  ***

  40

  Zeynep said that she might as well use the enforced waiting time to study the documents more thoroughly. Because of the language barrier, that left Acer with the prospect of nothing to do but sit and wait impatiently for the time to pass and worry about how their crossing back to the eastern side of Aleppo would go.

  It was soon clear that the investigative journalist had been very busy and very successful in gathering his evidence. When Zeynep shared something, Acer listened and responded, discussed, sought clarity. The mental exercise and the sharing of knowledge provided them both with a good and deep understanding of what they had. It also gave their hopes for getting their loved ones away from the Oktay family without further violence great encouragement.

  In the loose paperwork that had been under the files at the bottom of the box, Zeynep found a plastic sleeve containing several sheets of typed paper – a report that had been printed off. She scanned it and quickly realised that this was the journalist’s own work, a draft of his findings to date, somewhere that he had sought to find lucidity, build a bigger picture, put the parts of the puzzle together for himself, give the documents he had acquired a meaningful context. She read it through twice. When she’d finished her second reading she stood and walked to the window to look out over the courtyard below.

  Acer said, ‘You look like you’ve found something.’

  She turned to face him and was nodding. She was still holding the document. She indicated it and said, ‘He started writing up his findings. It makes sense of some of what’s in here.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And it’s. . . important. You want to hear it?’

  ‘Of course. And it looks like we’ve got time.’

  Zeynep came back and sat in one of the chairs. She said, ‘OK, I’m going to have to translate and summarise as I go, so bear with me. She began reading: ‘The origins of deep state can be traced back to the Cold War. Fearing the spread of Communism through a possible Soviet invasion of Turkey – an event which would have seen the red tide washing ever closer to European soil, to lap at the fringes of Western civilisation – Western intelligence agencies, among them Britain’s Secret Intelligence Service and America’s Central Intelligence Agency, were granted permission by the Turkish authorities to train selected Turkish soldiers and civilians in the skills and techniques of resistance fighters. These groups became known as Gladios. They received specialised training in military and intelligence matters. They were equipped and organised and encouraged, like sleepers in a society, to go about their normal lives until such time as their country needed them. There are reports of weapons caches being hidden in Istanbul. Funds, typically deposits of gold coins, were also hidden in the city to be made use of in the event of an attempt at occupation.

  With the thawing of the Cold War, the threat of Soviet invasion passed. The Gladios were forgotten about. But they did not forget. Disappointed with their lack of action – something they had prepared long and hard for – or, as is more likely, disgruntled with being dismissed and consigned to the rubbish heap of history by a society and systems that no longer had a use for them, they formed their own secret society. Deep state was born.

  With its contacts and network of handpicked individuals already in place – individuals who had been chosen because of their abilities, their potential, their skills, their intelligence their resourcefulness, thus making them an instantly formidable group – deep state grew quickly into a powerful, ideologically driven underground and highly secret movement.

  Over the decades that passed, their confidence and importance grew. They recruited like-minded individuals and expanded their operations and influence. The ideals of Kemalism. . .’ Zeynep broke off from her narrative and looked at Acer. She said, ‘Are you familiar with Kemalism?’

  He shook his head and gave her a blank look.

  ‘It’s important for your understanding of this: Kemalism is the term used to refer to the founding ideology of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk’s Republic of Turkey. You’ve heard of him, I hope?’

  Acer smiled and nodded.

  ‘Good. Basically, Kemalism was defined by sweeping political, social, cultural and religious reforms designed to separate the new Turkish state from its Ottoman predecessor and embrace a Westernized way of living. It involved the establishment of democracy, civil and political equality for women, secularism, state support of the sciences and free education. OK, so far?’

  Acer nodded that he was.

  Zeynep turned back to her document. ‘The initial narrow focus of deep state was to work collectively towards ensuring that Kemalism – those founding principles and ideologies of modern secular Turkey – were adhered to by those who officially ran the country. The members of deep state were zealots of Atatürk’s legacy, fiercely committed to the rise and Westernisation of the new Republic of Turkey. For them it was an ideological matter. Kemalism motivated their interest and interference.

  ‘History has shown us that power corrupts and that absolute power corrupts absolutely. The members of deep state came to wield much power in their zenith, albeit behind the scenes and the backs of those officially elected representatives who governed. Around the late 1980s, deep state became involved in another, darker, traditional element of a Westernised society: organised crime.

  ‘Human nature being what it is, there is little doubt that before this time, members of deep state – as well as being committed to the founding reasons for their continued existence – had sought to make life more comfortable for themselves and each other. The irresistible ur
ge to reward oneself, help one’s valuable associates, to lavish comfort and advantage on one’s loved ones, is a basic facet of human nature. It is often regarded by those in power and having control of any society following any ideology as their right, a perk of their position, as testified to by the most superficial examination of most of history’s societies from across the globe and time regardless of ideology, dogma and doctrine.

  ‘Information regarding deep state’s influence in Turkish society during the early and middle nineties is sketchy and hard to corroborate. However, in the late 1990s revelations surrounding the alleged Ergenekon organisation brought deep state once again into the news.

  Acer said, ‘Sorry. What’s Ergenekon?’

  Zeynep frowned. ‘I only know what was claimed at the time. Hundreds of people were arrested and imprisoned. There was a big media fuss about it being a clandestine, ultra-nationalist organisation made up of reactionary officers within the military. A part of deep state with a certain narrow focus regarding its modus operandi.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘Creating political instability and civil unrest in Turkey through acts of violence that were typically attributed to marginal militant political groups from inside and outside the country.’

  ‘False flag activities?’

  ‘Well, they weren’t actually in power but the motivations were similar to false flag acts.’

  ‘And this was real? It’s incredible. It’s the stuff of a Robert Ludlum novel.’

  Zeynep’s attention was back on the paperwork. ‘It says here that the name Ergenekon is taken from a mythical homeland in the Altai Mountains, in Central Asia. Well that says a lot about them – fantasists.’

  She continued her reading: ‘In 2007, following an anonymous tip-off, police officers discovered a cache of weapons and explosive devices at an Istanbul address. The serial numbers of hand grenades found in the haul matched others that had been used to devastating and life-taking effect in seemingly politically motivated attacks in Istanbul and Ankara. Prosecutors believed these events were intended to create chaos and lay the groundwork for a possible coup. The property belonged to a retired senior army officer.