1921, December 11th, Sunday.
The quiet solemnity of Sunday, December eleventh, did little to ease the undercurrent of acute tension that pervaded Yıldız Palace. Sultan Murad VII knew that today, his government was set to deliver its most direct challenge yet to the highest echelons of the Allied occupation forces. The letter drafted by Cavit Bey, an ultimatum to General Harington himself regarding Colonel Hughes's continued obstructionism in the Port Authority audit, was a dangerous but necessary escalation. Simultaneously, Reşid Akif Pasha was preparing to deploy another piece of carefully gathered intelligence – the dossier on Major Hesketh's illicit activities – to further widen the cracks within the Allied entente. Murad was wielding the leverage of truth, a weapon whose cuts could be deep and whose repercussions remained profoundly unpredictable.
Behram Rıza Bey, his courageous envoy, was now two full days into his perilous return journey from Konya. Each passing hour without incident was a small mercy, but the agonizing wait for his full report, for news of the substantive dialogue at Rumi's Gate, was a constant weight on Murad's soul. He began his day with prayer, seeking divine guidance and protection for Behram Rıza and for the perilous course upon which he had set his Empire.
The first major action of the day was the delivery of Cavit Bey's letter. Minister Cavit, accompanied by the calm and collected diplomat Saffet Ziya Bey, personally delivered the sealed envelope to General Harington's Chief of Staff at the British High Commission in Pera. The Ottoman delegation was received with icy formality. "This communication, from His Imperial Majesty's Minister of Finance and head of the Ottoman delegation to the Joint Commission of Inquiry for the Port Authority, is for General Harington's immediate and personal attention," Cavit stated, his voice firm and unwavering. "It details a grave breach of the recently signed Port Authority Agreement by the British representation on that Commission. We expect a response from General Harington within twenty-four hours, failing which the Ottoman government will consider its options for ensuring full compliance and accountability." The British Chief of Staff, a Major General with a face like granite, accepted the letter without comment, his eyes promising nothing but hostility. The gauntlet had been formally thrown at the feet of the British lion himself.
Later that morning, Foreign Minister Reşid Akif Pasha undertook his own delicate mission. He had requested, and been granted, a private, unofficial meeting with General Pellé, the French High Commissioner, at a discreet location – a quiet tea room in a neutral legation's garden, far from the prying eyes of Pera's main thoroughfares. "Mon Général," Reşid Akif began, after the initial pleasantries, his tone grave, "I come to you not in my official capacity regarding the Port Authority, but as one representative of a sovereign government to another, concerning a matter of utmost seriousness that threatens the very stability your High Commission, and indeed all Allied missions, claim to uphold in Constantinople." He then carefully, and without revealing all of Esad Bey's sources, presented a concise summary of the dossier implicating Major Hesketh of British intelligence in the funding and encouragement of Kara Davud's seditious network via the merchant Dimitri Stefanopoulos. He highlighted the evidence of payments, the nature of the anti-government propaganda being disseminated, and the clear intent to incite religious and political unrest. General Pellé listened with growing alarm, his initial diplomatic poise giving way to visible consternation. "Monsieur le Ministre," he said when Reşid Akif had finished, his voice hushed, "these are… accusations of the most extreme gravity. If true, this Major Hesketh is not merely an intelligence officer; he is an arsonist playing with fire in a powder magazine! Such actions by an agent of one Allied power, undermining a government with which we are all nominally in treaty relations, are… intolerable. They threaten to unravel everything." "Indeed, Mon Général," Reşid Akif replied. "His Imperial Majesty's government possesses substantial, verifiable proof of these activities. We bring this to your attention privately, General Pellé, because we believe that France, as a nation that values its honor and its diplomatic integrity, would not wish to be seen as condoning, even by association, such reckless and destructive freelance operations by its British ally. We trust that you will convey the seriousness of this discovery to your government in Paris, and perhaps, through appropriate channels, ensure that General Harington is made aware that such internal sabotage by his subordinates will not be tolerated by his other Allied partners." Pellé was silent for a long moment, his mind clearly racing. "This information… it is dynamite, Minister. I will, of course, report this immediately to Paris. And I will… find a way to ensure that my British colleague understands the… profound unwisdom of such actions. This changes many things." He looked at Reşid Akif with a new, wary respect. The Ottomans were proving to be far more formidable, and far better informed, than any of them had anticipated.
Back at Yıldız Palace, Murad awaited news of these confrontations. The tension was immense. Tevfik Pasha tried to engage him on other matters of state – the progress of the Imperial Reconstruction Council, which had just approved its first detailed budget for the Izmit railway repairs and for establishing several depots for subsidized grain in the city's poorer quarters. Murad listened, gave his assent, but his mind was elsewhere. Kolağası Esad Bey reported that the targeted arrests of Kara Davud's mid-level agitators the previous day had indeed caused significant disarray within their ranks. "Their public propaganda efforts have virtually ceased for the moment, Your Majesty," Esad said. "They are clearly frightened and disorganized. However, Kara Davud himself remains at large, and our efforts to penetrate his innermost circle are still ongoing. We have identified several more individuals who act as his couriers and safe-house keepers, but the man himself is like smoke. The funding from Stefanopoulos, now that he is under our intense surveillance, also appears to have been temporarily disrupted." "Temporarily is not enough, Esad Bey," Murad stated. "Find Kara Davud. And continue to gather irrefutable proof against Stefanopoulos and Major Hesketh. We may need to deploy that weapon more formally if the British remain intransigent on other fronts."
Late in the afternoon, an urgent summons arrived at the Sublime Porte for Grand Vizier Tevfik Pasha. It was from General Harington. The General did not request Tevfik's presence; he demanded it, at the British High Commission, within the hour. Murad, Tevfik, and Reşid Akif conferred hastily. "He is furious, undoubtedly," Tevfik said, his voice calm despite the clear threat. "Cavit Bey's letter has struck home. He will bluster, he will threaten. But he knows he is now on very dangerous ground, with London watching and his French and Italian colleagues now aware of just how deep the British complicity in the Port corruption runs, and potentially of Hesketh's activities." "Go, Tevfik Pasha," Murad said, his hand resting on his Grand Vizier's shoulder. "Take Reşid Akif with you. Hear what Harington has to say. Do not be intimidated. Remind him, if necessary, that the days when an Ottoman Grand Vizier could be summarily dictated to by a foreign general are over. The agreement on the Port was signed. We expect it to be honored. If Colonel Hughes continues his obstruction, we will act as we have stated."
The wait for Tevfik Pasha and Reşid Akif's return was perhaps the longest hour of Murad's reign thus far. When they finally returned to Yıldız, their expressions were a mixture of weariness and grim satisfaction. "Well?" Murad pressed. "General Harington, Your Majesty," Tevfik began, "was… incandescent with rage. He accused us of blackmail, of attempting to sabotage Allied unity, of acting in bad faith. He threatened dire consequences if we persisted in our 'campaign of slander' against honorable British officers and administrators." "However," Reşid Akif interjected, a slight smile playing on his lips, "his threats rang somewhat hollow. While he was delivering his tirade, an aide brought him another coded telegram from London – his second that day, we learned. After reading it, his demeanor… shifted. The fury remained, but it was tinged with a new, distinct note of… constraint." Tevfik Pasha continued, "He then, through gritted teeth, informed us that he had 'reviewed the concerns' raised by Minister Cavit. He stated that while he believed Colonel Hughes was a fine and honorable officer merely performing his duty, in the interest of 'expediting the work of the Joint Commission and avoiding further unfortunate international misunderstandings,' he had 'counseled' Colonel Hughes to ensure that the Ottoman delegation was provided with 'all appropriate and legitimately requested documentation pertaining to the Special Projects Fund without undue delay, subject to necessary safeguards for genuinely sensitive operational information.' He then, almost as an afterthought, said that the matter of the 'Levantine Trading Syndicate's ownership would also be clarified by the British delegation to the Commission in a timely manner.'" It was a capitulation, however couched in face-saving jargon. Harington had been forced to back down by his own government. The leverage of truth, amplified by international pressure and inter-Allied rivalries, had proven decisive. "So," Murad said slowly, a profound sense of relief washing over him, "Cavit Bey will finally get the access he needs. The full extent of their corruption will be laid bare within the Commission itself." "Indeed, Your Majesty," Tevfik confirmed. "And I suspect Colonel Hughes's days on that Commission are numbered. Harington will need a scapegoat for this debacle, and Hughes is the obvious candidate."
As Sunday, December eleventh, drew to its close, the Ottoman government had weathered another storm and emerged stronger. The direct challenge to General Harington had paid off. The discreet deployment of the Hesketh dossier was beginning to sow further discord among the Allies. Internal sedition was being actively countered. And somewhere in the heart of Anatolia, Behram Rıza Bey was making his way back, hopefully carrying with him the first fragile threads of a dialogue that could reshape the destiny of the Empire. Murad knew the path ahead remained fraught with peril. Cornered lions were dangerous. But tonight, he allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. His government was not just surviving; it was fighting, it was winning small but significant victories, and it was slowly, painstakingly, beginning to reclaim the dignity and sovereignty of the Ottoman state. The leverage of truth was a powerful weapon indeed.