Inexhaustible Sweetness and Purity

[Odinson]

Private

ISTANBUL, TURKIYE
The Peninsula Istanbul Hotel
June, 2008
1:00 P.M. TRT​

The Peninsula Suite was a luxurious, penthouse suite on top of the Peninsula Istanbul Hotel. The suite, along with the entire floor below it, was rented out for the American delegation's stay for the Opening Ceremony of the 2008 summer Olympics. The suite included multiple bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, a dining room, a study, and a large roof-top outdoor space complete with a swimming pool and plants that afforded some privacy. Despite the Secret Service doing its best to make the hotel feel like a prison, it was still exceptionally luxurious and was a breath of fresh air for the Americans, especially President Sinclair. The President, as well as numerous world leaders, were invited to attend the Opening Ceremony and he had gladly accepted. Sinclair, the Secretary of State, the United States Ambassador to Türkiye, and United States Senator Olympia Snowe were all serving as official representatives of the United States for the event. Sinclair and Snowe were staying together in the Peninsula Suite.

The relationship between the President and the Senator had been ongoing since Sinclair had been Vice President. It didn't become public until he had become President, and even then, both of them were very private about it. Sinclair was a widower and Olympia was a double widow. Both of them had dealt with the tragedy of losing spouses and, on top of that, also many friends and colleagues in in the Senate. Despite their very political lives, the two had unwritten rules about discussing work: they didn't discuss it whenever they ate together, when they were in bed, or when they were on vacation. Olympia had already declared that this counted as a vacation, so Sinclair resisted the urge to ask her about an upcoming vote in the Senate.

The Secret Service had temporarily installed bullet-proof glass outside, around the pool area. It somewhat ruined the aesthetic, but it did allow the two to go outside if they wished. Olympia was laying by the pool. She was dressed modestly, but casually. Sinclair had stepped inside. Instead of the three-piece suit that the country and the world was used to seeing him in, he was wearing khaki pants along with a white and blue pinstriped shirt. Still, though, his white hair was neatly combed like he had a press conference to get to. He had been outside with Olympia for the past half-hour, but he had stepped inside a few minutes ago to go to the restroom. Now was his opportunity.

He went to one of the bedrooms that they weren't using and turned on his government-issued encrypted Blackberry. He looked down at the screen and thought for a few moments. He could ask Luke Adams, the Secretary of State, to make this call, but then he'd want to know why he needed to go there. He scrolled through his contacts, which felt endless, and came across a name: Aiden Hawkins, Ambassador. Hawkins had been instrumental in reestablishing relations between Washington and Istanbul, and he had not failed at a single task that Sinclair had given him so far.

**************************************************​

Jessica White had been answering phone calls all day from politicians, celebrities, and important Americans who were trying to get special assistance while they were in Türkiye. The State Department had recently updated its travel advisories which showed that Türkiye was a relatively safe place for Americans to go to. This, no doubt, increased the number of Americans who would be present at the opening ceremony and the Olympic Games, and it also meant that more Americans would return to the country for tourism over time. For Jessica, this meant that she had to take more phone calls from millionaires who were trying to impress their girlfriends by getting a special tour of the embassy, or something else. She really liked saying no to those.

Her secure landline started to ring again. Weird, it wasn't a call that the Diplomatic Corps had forwarded to her, it was just a direct call from an unlisted number.

"Ambassador Hawkins's office, Jessica speaking."

"Good afternoon, Jessica. This is Benjamin Sinclair. I am calling for Ambassador Hawkins. Can you connect me to him, please?"

"...Sorry, who did you say you are?"

"This is President Sinclair."

"Sir, I'm not sure how you got this number, but the President doesn't make direct phone calls. I'm sure that impersonating the President is some kind of crime."

"...Jessica, I can assure you I am me-" Jessica hung up on Sinclair.

Sinclair looked down at his Blackberry for a couple of seconds and then chuckled to himself. He called the number again.

"Ambassador Hawkins's office, Jessica speaking."

"Jessica, this is Benjamin Sinclair. I think that we were disconnected."

"Actually, I hung up on you. I'm really busy today, I don't need someone wasting my time by pretending to be the President."

"I am the President."

"Prove it."

"Alright... I'm staying at The Peninsula Istanbul Hotel, that isn't public information."

"They chopped down all of the light posts in the plaza next to it so that Marine One could land there yesterday. I think the secret is out of the bag."

"Okay, good point."

"I met President Sinclair once, you don't sound anything like him."

"Well, you're talking to me on the phone. That probably doesn't help. When did we meet? Maybe I can recall."

"I'm not sure that I can really talk much about it... But we met at the White House, just outside of the Oval Office, about a year and a half ago. Ambassador Hawkins was there to talk about... Well, I can't really talk about it."

"Hawkins called in a dozen favors on Capitol Hill to get my Chief of Staff to put him on my agenda. I had just met with the Australian Prime Minister. He asked me to give Turkey a chance. Also, at the time, he wasn't an ambassador yet. If I remember correctly, you were his assistant then. I stepped outside to steal some M&Ms from my secretary's desk after the meeting. You had forgotten your purse, and you had come back for it... You were dumping the bowl of M&Ms into your purse and you dropped them on the ground when you saw me. You had blonde hair and I think you said that you're from... Alaska?"

"Wow, that's right you have a great memor-........ Mister President, I'm so sorry... I'll put you through to the Ambassador right away."

Jessica transferred the call to the Ambassador's secure line. Jessica put her hands into her face and felt so embarrassed. Sinclair felt proud of his memory.

Ambassador Hawkins normally didn't have numbers come straight through to his phone without Jessica telling him who it was first, or the call being scheduled. He picked it up.

"This is Hawkins."

"Ambassador, this is President Sinclair. I hope that this isn't a bad time?"

Hawkins, who plenty of experience as a CIA officer, was immediately skeptical.

"Please hold, I have to verify your number." Hawkins put his hand over the receiver and shouted, "JESSICA!"

Jessica came into the Ambassador's office. She looked scared. He didn't say anything to her and just picked up his hands like he was non-verbally asking, What the fuck?

"It's definitely the President, he remembered the time I stole M&Ms from the White House."

Hawkins looked up the number for the President's encrypted Blackberry, which he had thanks to all of the work that went into Turkey, and realized that it was actually him.

"I'm sorry about that Mister President, this is..."

"Unusual, I know. Jessica really gave me the third-degree. She was skeptical too."

"I trained her well, sir."

"Yes you did... I won't take up too much of your time, Aiden. But I needed to ask for a favor."

"Absolutely sir, what do you need?"

**************************************************​

Ten minutes later, Hawkins made a secure call to Prime Minister Ayşe Çiller's office. He requested to speak with the Prime Minister, if she was available.​

Jay

 

[Jay]

PRIVATE
​

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, amber glow over the streets just outside the Istanbul Government Complex. A small kiosk stood at the edge of the perimeter, its metal counter lined with paper cups. The low hum of conversation blended with the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional murmur of tourists drifting through the area.

Prime Minister Ayşe Çiller stood with a coffee in hand, her posture composed but unguarded in a way rarely seen inside the walls of government. She lifted her hand in a small wave toward a nearby group, two Chinese tourists adjusting a camera, an Indian family ushering their children closer. They were whispering among themselves as they recognized her.

Kaan, her Chief of Staff, observed quietly from her side. “They’ll remember that,” he said, almost absently.

“I’d be glad if they did,” Ayşe replied, her voice even as she took a sip of her coffee. “It’s their city as much as it is ours, especially now.”

Cem, the Prime Minister’s liaison for the Olympic Games, shifted the folder under his arm. “The Olympics will bring more of them. More eyes. More expectations.”

“Good optics as well,” murmured Kaan. “Especially with Erdogan leading in the polls for his city-building and foreign policy experience.”

Çiller shook her head. “I’ve told you, Kaan. Stop reading those polls.” She said, taking the newspaper from under his arm and folding it.

Cem nodded. “Not just optics. It reminds people that this is their city too. Especially now.”

Çiller gave a faint smile at that, then turned, gesturing lightly with her cup. “Come on. If I linger any longer, Kaan will make me tell them my transport infrastructure plan.”

The brief illusion of normalcy dissolved as the air shifted into something more controlled, more deliberate. Inside the cordon, there was a heavy security presence with armed gendarmerie guarding the exterior while the CkD kept a distant circle around the Prime Minister.

They moved back toward the Government Complex, which was inundated with large numbers of bureaucrats overseeing the Olympic Games. Parliamentarians, businessmen, and foreign dignitaries were scrambling to get special perks for their visitors and bosses as the city’s top attractions and spots became overbooked and overcrowded. The corridors hummed with quiet urgency. Staffers passed in low-voiced clusters, phones pressed to ears, folders tucked close.

Çiller stepped into her new temporary office and took her seat, setting the coffee down as she looked over her meeting binder, which was hidden under maps and briefing folders. She glanced up, looking at the ever-present television screen flickering silently in the background.

She had barely settled when the door opened.

Hakan Ağçay entered with a disarming ease, a faint smile already in place, as though he had wandered into a social call rather than breached the carefully managed order of her schedule.

Çiller’s eyes narrowed slightly. “This is a surprise.”

Ağçay said nothing at first. Instead, he stepped closer, reaching into his jacket. The smile never quite left his face, but it thinned. He leaned in and handed her a folded note.

She opened it. Her eyes moved quickly across the page, and for a moment, the room seemed to contract around her.

Sources in PKK claiming a successful attack on Iran. At least twenty dead.​

Her fingers tightened slightly on the paper before she folded it again, once, twice, and slipped it into her jacket pocket. Then she looked up at him, almost asking if this was legit.

Ağçay gave a single confirming nod. “We’ve verified it,” he said quietly. “Looks like they’re active again.”

A silence followed as Çiller leaned back slightly and looked out the window into the city of Istanbul. Her mind was already moving ahead of the moment. “What do you recommend?”

“I want to move on a few apple farms we’ve been tracking,” he replied. “Quietly. If they’re emboldened, they may try something during the big flame.”

Her jaw set, just slightly. “Do it,” she said. “Call Atay. I want this done quietly.”

Hakan shook his head. “If I call Atay, you might as well invite a TRT news crew to the curffule. Let us handle this. The last thing we need is to spook the public before the Games.”

Ayşe bit her lip. “Fine. Get this done, Hakan. We can’t afford this. Not right now.”

Ağçay inclined his head. “Understood.”

He turned to leave, then paused at the door, as if remembering something almost incidental.

“I checked with the Big Bear desk,” he added. “They came back with leads about the Little Bear. Turncoat can proceed whenever you are ready.”

She pressed her lips together, biting down on the thought before it could fully form. For a brief moment, she had hoped that thread would unravel on its own, prove unreliable, disappear into bureaucratic fog. It had not.

“Not yet,” she said quietly, almost to herself. Then, firmer: “We hold on to that.”

Ağçay studied her for a fraction of a second, then gave a small nod and stepped out. The door had barely closed when it opened again. Kaan entered briskly, an encrypted government-issued BlackBerry already in hand. “Was that Ağçay?”

Ayşe nodded but then looked at the phone, almost reminding Kaan why he was here in the first place.

“Oh, right,” Kaan said, seeing where the Prime Minister’s eyes were. “It is Ambassador Hawkins. He would like a word.

He extended the device toward her.

Çiller took the phone as she picked up her cup of coffee. She realized the coffee on her desk had already gone cold as she took an unappetizing sip. Signing, she walked over to dump the cup in the trash.

“Ambassador Hawkins, how are you. I hope things are good on your end?”

Odinson