1921, November 13th, Sunday.
The fourth day of the one-week ultimatum to the Allied Powers arrived with a Sunday stillness that was, for Sultan Murad VII, more nerve-wracking than the busiest weekday. Tonight, under the cloak of darkness and hopefully beneath a smuggler's moon, Ferik Fevzi Pasha's audacious plan to acquire a clandestine shipment of arms from the Black Sea trader, Kaplan, was set to unfold. The success or failure of this operation would have immediate and profound implications for Murad's ability to project strength, even within the confines of his own capital.
Murad met with Fevzi Pasha and Kolağası Esad Bey in the grey light of dawn. The details had been meticulously planned, but the risks remained enormous. "The gold has been discreetly transferred to your designated paymaster, Fevzi Pasha," Murad confirmed, his voice low. "Ten thousand Lira. A fortune we can ill afford, but a pittance for the security it may buy us." "The naval launch, the Peyk-i Şevket, has been prepared, Your Majesty," Fevzi reported. "Her engines overhauled in secret, her hull freshly painted a dull grey for minimal visibility. Her commander, Yüzbaşı (Captain) Cemal, is a man I would trust with my own sons. His crew of twenty are all handpicked veterans, sworn to secrecy on the Quran." Esad Bey added, "My operatives have scouted the rendezvous cove and the overland route to the Belgrade Forest depot. We have also established a series of discreet signal posts. Kaplan, the trader, has confirmed via his usual channels that his steamer, the Karadeniz Rüzgarı (Black Sea Wind), will be at the designated coordinates from dusk till midnight. He reiterated his terms: gold first, then the cargo. No delays, no negotiations on site." "And no witnesses," Murad said grimly. "The greatest danger, apart from Allied patrols, is treachery from Kaplan himself or his crew, or a leak from ours. Ensure your men understand the consequences of failure, Esad Bey." "They do, Your Majesty. They know that not only their lives but the fate of this initiative rests on their silence and courage."
While this high-stakes operation was a primary focus, the shadows within the palace demanded attention. Esad Bey's earlier report on the Damat Ferid loyalists had been troubling. "The group under surveillance, Your Majesty," Esad updated them, "led by the dismissed müsteşar Mahmud Bey, appears to be planning more than just disgruntled chatter. We have intercepted communications suggesting they intend to anonymously disseminate inflammatory pamphlets in some of the more volatile districts tomorrow, accusing Your Majesty's new government of being 'anti-Islamic' due to Sheikh-ul-Islam Nuri Efendi's sermons against corruption (which they twist as an attack on 'pious Muslim businessmen'), and of provoking the Allies into actions that will harm the common people. The French dragoman we noted earlier seems to be… offering advice on phrasing for maximum impact." Tevfik Pasha, who had joined the meeting, looked grave. "This is dangerous, Your Majesty. Such pamphlets, in the current climate of economic hardship and uncertainty, could indeed incite unrest, which the Allies, or Mahmud Bey's faction, could then exploit." "Then we will ensure these pamphlets never see the light of day," Murad declared. "Esad Bey, I want Mahmud Bey and his core group of agitators arrested tonight, before Fevzi Pasha's operation commences. Detain them discreetly. Seize any pamphlets or printing materials. We will cut off this serpent's head before it can strike. The involvement of a foreign diplomat in such internal sedition is also something Reşid Akif Pasha will need to address with the French High Commission, at the appropriate, carefully chosen moment." "It will be done, Your Majesty," Esad confirmed, a flicker of satisfaction in his usually impassive eyes. His new directorate was proving its worth daily.
Later, Cavit Bey, the Minister of Finance, presented the draft of the Imperial Decree – the Hatt-ı Hümayun – that Murad had promised, authorizing his ministry to investigate all financial dealings impacting the Imperial Treasury, even those involving individuals with foreign protection or Capitulatory rights, where evidence of illegality existed. "This is precisely worded, Cavit Bey," Murad said after reviewing it carefully. "It upholds our sovereign right to investigate crime and corruption on our own soil, while respecting the legitimate, non-abused aspects of international agreements. I will sign and seal it this afternoon. Let it be promulgated tomorrow. The wealthy elites who believe themselves above Ottoman law will soon discover otherwise." Cavit Bey's gaunt face almost broke into a smile. "This will give us the teeth we need, Your Majesty. The fight for our fiscal survival can now truly begin."
As dusk approached, a tense quiet descended upon the Sultan's study. Fevzi Pasha had departed earlier to personally oversee the final preparations for the Peyk-i Şevket's departure from a hidden inlet further up the Bosphorus, far from the prying eyes of the main Allied anchorages. Esad Bey was coordinating both the surveillance of the arms mission and the imminent arrests of Mahmud Bey's seditious circle. Murad found himself pacing, the weight of the night's interlocking operations pressing down on him. He tried to focus on state papers, on reports from provincial governors detailing crop yields and local concerns, but his mind kept returning to the small, grey naval launch heading out into the dark expanse of the Black Sea, and to the men Esad Bey was sending into the city's shadowy corners to apprehend traitors.
The hours crawled by. Tevfik Pasha sat with him for a while, offering quiet companionship, the two men understanding without words the immense gamble Murad had undertaken. Later, Murad retreated to his private mosque within the palace, performing the Isha prayer with a particular fervor, praying for the safety of his men and the success of their missions. He thought of the traveler from Konya, now many days into his journey towards Ankara, carrying another set of hopes. So many threads, so many risks, all converging.
It was well past midnight, the city outside silent under a sliver of a moon – a true smuggler's moon – when Hafız Bey finally brought word. Kolağası Esad Bey requested an immediate audience. Murad's heart hammered against his ribs. "Send him in." Esad Bey entered, his uniform slightly disheveled, a smear of what looked like mud on his cheek, but his eyes were bright. "Your Imperial Majesty," he reported, his voice tight with suppressed excitement, "Mahmud Bey and four of his principal conspirators were apprehended two hours ago as they were finalizing their seditious pamphlets in a backroom printing press. The arrests were made without incident. We have seized all their materials. They are now securely detained for interrogation." A wave of relief washed over Murad. One threat neutralized. "Excellent work, Esad Bey. Excellent. And… the other matter? Fevzi Pasha's endeavor?"
Esad allowed himself a small, rare smile. "Yüzbaşı Cemal of the Peyk-i Şevket made signal contact with my shore station less than half an hour ago, Your Majesty, as they re-entered the Bosphorus under cover of a conveniently timed coastal fog. The rendezvous with Kaplan's steamer, the Karadeniz Rüzgarı, was successful. The cargo was transferred. They are now proceeding to the pre-arranged landing site. Ferik Fevzi Pasha himself is there to oversee the unloading and secure transport to the Belgrade Forest depot." Murad closed his eyes for a moment, a silent prayer of thanks upon his lips. He had risked so much, and for now, at least on this front, his gamble had paid off. "Five hundred Mosin-Nagant rifles, Your Majesty," Esad continued, "twenty Maxim machine guns, and over one hundred thousand rounds of ammunition. All serviceable, according to Yüzbaşı Cemal's initial inspection. Kaplan, it seems, delivered as promised once the gold was in his hands." "He has armed the Hassa Ordusu, Esad Bey," Murad said, his voice filled with emotion. "Fevzi Pasha's men will finally have the teeth they need. This… this is a significant victory, however secret, however small it may seem against the might of the Entente."
He knew this success did not lessen the danger from the Allies, nor did it solve the Empire's myriad other problems. The ultimatum clock was still ticking – only three days remained. But tonight, under a smuggler's moon, a small measure of strength, of agency, had been restored to the Ottoman Sultanate. His men had proven their loyalty and their capability. "Ensure Yüzbaşı Cemal and his crew are well rewarded, Esad Bey," Murad instructed. "And convey my deepest gratitude to Ferik Fevzi Pasha. Tonight, they have served the Empire beyond measure." As Esad Bey departed to oversee the final stages of the arms transport and the interrogation of Mahmud Bey's clique, Murad felt a profound weariness, but also a renewed sense of determination. The shadows in the palace were deep, the enemies formidable. But tonight, a small, bright flame of Ottoman resurgence had been kindled in the darkness. He would guard that flame with his life.