No Safe Haven, the Turkish Connection

[Jay]

The house sat in the shadows of the distant foothills, a decaying structure that had long been abandoned by its original owners. Inside, the faint rustling of the wind outside seemed a whisper to the men of the 3rd Commando Brigade as they crept through the darkness.

Alptug Gunduz led the team, his eyes darting over the crumbling interior. His black gloves gripped his rifle tightly, the only sound of his steady breathing beneath his balaclava hood. His sharp gaze swept over the area, and without a word, the team moved into position.

The Turkish Commandos crept up the rotten wooden steps of the house as their faces gave off a soft glow of green light from their night vision goggles. Gurkan Sokullu nodded toward the narrow porch. He signaled to Demirhan Gul as he slipped into the next room. Gurkan’s eyes narrowed. The flashbang grenade detonated with a blinding flash, throwing the night into chaos for a split second.

Alptug raised his hands, signaling orders to his team. They poured into the house efficiently, securing every door and window. Sansal and Kartal were already sweeping the main room, scanning for any sign of life or hidden threats. Sansal's eyes scanned the room as he crouched low, checking behind furniture and within the walls.

Adam moved in with Sansal, his hand moving to open a cupboard beneath a broken table. He paused for a second, and there, hidden in plain sight among old clothes, was a stack of papers. He held it up, and the rest of the team gathered around. The papers were covered in Kurdish, ink faded from use. The markings were of various warehouses in major cities with specific locations circled in red ink and the faintest traces of fingerprints in black smudges.

"Is it what we’re looking for?" Gurkan whispered, his voice low. Sansal shook his head, his fingers brushing over the pages. “Looks like it.” He said as he gazed down at the map. “Looks like it. Looks like safe houses where they could be storing weapons. Warehouses, homes, that even look like a school” he made out from the map. “A train depot” he said as he pushed his head closer to the map. He moved them around, seeing other cities underneath them. "Some of these match the areas where there are communist activity. Look, some Turkish scribbles.” He said, pointing to the map of Izmir, where there were scribbles on the paper.

Kartal stepped forward, a low growl escaping from his throat. "This isn’t good.” Kartal chimed in as he took a look at the map. “Christ. Warsaw as well.” Kartal said, looking at the map of Warsaw political offices, a list of politicians, the location of the King, and foreign consulates. “We need to get this to command ASAP.”

Alptug motioned to the others. "Search the other rooms." He said as he ordered his teams to clear the other rooms. The operatives moved immediately. Gurkan moved into the next room, his rifle at the ready. His boots made little sound against the rotting floorboards as he swept the area, eyes darting from one shadow to the next. He opened a door to the right, revealing a small, dimly lit room. Dust choked the air.

He scanned the corners, watching for anything out of place. The room was bare, save for a few crates and bags strewn across the floor. He turned on the flashlight barrelled under his rifle, shining it into the crates, and his eyes caught a flicker of something. He knelt down, lifting the lid of one of the crates and pulling out a bundle of old, weathered books.

Meanwhile, Dilek and Muzaffer had moved into the room next door. Dilek motioned to Muzaffer, signaling him to check the corners while he started going through the drawers. A moment later, she pulled out a small stack of photographs and laid them on the table. Most of them were blurry, but there were a few showing groups of men in the mountains.

Muzaffer, meanwhile, had found a hidden compartment beneath the floorboards. He pulled it open, revealing several rolled-up maps, their edges frayed. His hands were steady as he unrolled one, revealing a detailed map of London. Red circles marked key locations, and in the margins, handwritten notes in Pashto.

Outside, the sounds of the operation continued as the rest of the team cleared the remaining rooms. Sansal and Wilhelm entered the farthest room, a bedroom. Sansal quickly pulled aside a moth-eaten blanket, revealing a metal box beneath the bed. He knelt down, prying it open to reveal a stack of papers. They were all in Kurdish, with cryptic phrases and diagrams outlining plans for sabotage along the Turkish border with Syria. Esenboga glanced over his shoulder, eyes scanning the hall for any movement. "Nothing else here," he said, speaking into the comlink as he slid the papers into his bag.

The team reconvened in the hallway after sweeping the final rooms. Alptug stood in the center, his eyes hard as he checked his watch. "Gather everything. Let's move."

Gurkan came back to the group, his bag now heavier with the books he'd found. "These might be useful," he said, glancing at Alptug. Dilek tossed the photographs onto the floor in front of Alptug. “I can recognize some of them from operations we did in ‘97 in Iraq. They sure as hell look like the PKK. But the place looks like its somewhere in Syria," she said, looking at the arid terrain similar to where her family barbecued near the border with Syria.

Alptug glanced at the documents, his brow furrowing. He stood still for a moment, processing everything. "Take what we need. Secure it all.” The team quickly began securing their findings. Gurkan slid the books into a larger satchel while Dilek packed the photographs into a folder. Sansal and Muzaffer worked together, making sure the maps and plans were carefully folded and secured. Esenboga stood at the door, his rifle at the ready, keeping watch as the others worked. Downstairs in the basement, squad two moved under the slow fall of dust from squad one’s movements upstairs.

Kartal found the computers in the basement. His fingers brushed the edge of his vest for the encrypted USB drive. "Copy.” They reached the door, and Kai signaled. He moved in first, crouching low as the door creaked open. The faint glow from a single bulb flickers inside, casting long shadows on the walls.

"Base clear. Zero tangos. I'm on the terminal." Adam kept watch, his rifle at the ready. "Check the corners. This place smells like a trap." Kartal approached a steel desk in the corner, opening a case. He plugged the encrypted USB into the terminal and waited, fingers poised over the keyboard. muttering to himself as the system boots up. "Come on, come on…”

Kartal’s fingers tapped faster now as the system hummed to life, revealing encrypted files. "Got it. Files transferring." In another room, Kai pulled a small laptop from his pack and began scanning the area. He accessed the nearest computer, breaking into the files. A series of encrypted messages flashed across the screen.

"Look at this," Kai muttered, flipping through the data. "This is various donations the group is receiving, hundreds of them. ” He said, looking at what was at least a few hundred thousand dollars.

Kartal, who had been scanning the room for hidden compartments, raised his hand, signaling he’d found something. He pushed a bookshelf away from the floor, revealing a hole behind it with a small metal case. He pulled it out, opening it slowly. Inside, there were photographs, carefully stashed away, more documents, but this time with even more detailed, including how they’d kill members of the parliament, when to make a mass appeal, and the ‘turning point’. Some ominous indication of an event yet to come.

"These are plans for something big," Kartal said, his voice rough. Sansal gripped the edge of the table and looked over the contents. His eyes narrowed as he processed the information. "This isn't just about inciting violence; they are planning to take out the whole government just like the attack in America.

Alptug took a deep breath, hearing what was said down below, surveying the scene. "Pack it up. We’ve got what we need," Alptug ordered.

Each team member secured the documents and photographs, making sure no trace of evidence would be left behind. They left the house the way they had entered, silently and quickly. As the team members moved back to their rendezvous point, a low-flying flying blackhawk arrived and picked them. They needed to get the intelligence back to Turkish intelligence as soon as possible.

 

[Jay]

The fluorescent lights in the operations room buzzed faintly above the circle of men and women seated around the long metal table. The walls were lined with intel boards. Maps of Poland, Türkiye, Syria, and Iraq were dotted with red pins, names taped beneath satellite photos, and a timeline scribbled out in dry-erase marker. Alptug stood at the head of the room, arms crossed, fatigue still etched deep in the lines around his eyes. Behind him, Demirhan pulled up the images from the raid photographs from the farmhouse: circled maps, encrypted drives, blueprints marked in Turkish and Kurdish.

Facing them were Charlie Team, Ozel Basaran, Atasoy Karatay, Cemal Okyar, and the rest of the Alfa unit set to lead the next mission."This is no longer what we thought it was," Alptug began, his voice steady, but lower than usual. "What we found wasn’t Al-Qaeda. It wasn’t a regular PKK cell either."

He glanced at Gurkan, who stepped forward. "The kill lists are the entire Turkish Government. The targets were synagogues, mosques, bus and transit centers, and community buildings. All across the Western coastline.”

Hakan Kivanc spoke from the edge of the room, flipping through a dossier. “Some of the coded messages we pulled from the basement hard drives? They referenced ‘Restoration Points.’ It’s language we’ve seen before, similar to the attack on the U.S. Capitol during the State of the Union address.”

There was a pause as the weight of the words settled in.“It’s clear this isn’t just a PKK cell or some Kurdish fringe group. It's the communists and PKK together, and worst of all, it is homegrown...,” Alptug said quietly. “And…they are organized.”

Ozel leaned forward slightly. “You’re saying this isn’t what we’ve been facing before. They’ve always been crazy and planned on killing whoever they could. They’re terrorists for crying outoud”

“No,” Gurkan answered. “These are the same terrorists we’ve been fighting. But they are transnational and have inspiration to bring the same terror that struck America here. We don’t know what allies they still have in government and whether the army got all of their men.”

That’s when the door opened, and Deniz Işın, their liaison from the Turkish Intelligence Organization. Her leather was still damp from the rain outside. The room quieted again.

“Sorry for being late,” she said flatly. “Signals intercepts and keyword tracking from the raid turned up names. Not just pseudonyms, but real identities. One of them, confirmed, was a senior intelligence officer for the PRGC when the communists were in government. Another worked on logistics for the GMT. The Organization is... unsettled,” Deniz continued. “The Director’s office was briefed this afternoon. They’ve ordered us to go after these guys now. They are worried that this is linked to another raid we did that got intelligence on the Poznan attacks earlier this year.”

Ozel’s jaw tensed as he looked at the map. “This is in the center of Mersin. The PKK has never operated this far out with a firm logistical base.”

Deniz didn’t blink. “No. You are right. The PKK is facing a fracture, and its more militant group has been building up a network since they took power in 2003. They’ve had three years to rebuild their arms and financial wings. The threat is real. The attacks they’re planning are real. The attack in Poland is just the start. Whatever they are planning will ignite something we won’t be able to control.”

Kartal leaned forward, arms on the table. “How deep does this network go?”

Deniz didn’t answer at first. But begrudgingly spoke. “We don’t know. That’s what you’re going to help us find out.”

Alptug stepped back, turning to Ozel and the rest of the Alfa team. “You hit the warehouse in southern Mersin. Quietly. Fast. No trace. We need the files, the names, and if possible, one of them alive. We need to know how far this goes.”

Then Ozel nodded once. “Understood.” Lights flickered slightly overhead as the power surged from the rain outside. The operators rose silently, one by one, sliding their chairs back from the cold floor.

The lights were off in the building at the edge of the city, a cold concrete structure tucked between rows of apartment blocks typical of Mersin coastal sprawl. It was 7 a.m., and a light drizzle misted the air, soaking into the grey facades and empty sidewalks.

Ozel led the team, crouched behind a parked van just across the street from the complex. His hand hovered over his radio earpiece as he surveyed the balconies above. The target apartment was on the third floor, Unit 3B. Intel from the farmhouse raid two nights ago had led them here.

"Go," he whispered. Atasoy Karatay and Cemal Okyar broke from cover, darting toward the entrance. Their uniforms soaked up the rain as their boots made no sound on the pavement. Yaser Ozbek followed close behind, carrying the hydraulic breaching kit. Simon Steinberg stayed at the perimeter, his rifle trained on the neighboring balconies through the optic.

Third floor, no elevator. The stairwell was dark and smelled of mildew. They moved up, rifles raised, backs to concrete walls. At the top, Hakan Kivanc paused at the landing. He held up two fingers, the number heat signatures inside. Evren Uzun confirmed from the rear: thermal through the wall showed movement, slow, inconsistent. Likely sleep.

Kai knelt beside the door, nodding to Evren, who primed the flashbang. “Three,” Temiz whispered through the comms. “Two… one…”

The breaching charge blew the door in with a sharp crack, followed instantly by the concussion of the flashbang. The hallway lit up with white light for a split second. There were screams inside.

“Move!” Evrem barked.

Atasoy and Cemal pushed in first, sweeping left and right, rifles tucked tight to their shoulders. Temiz followed down the hall, clearing rooms with short bursts of movement. Inside the living room, a man in sweatpants was clawing for a pistol under the couch, which prompted Yaser to jolt to grab it out of reach while Temiz restrained the man.

Cemal and Evrem moved through the kitchen and into the back bedroom, flashlights cutting through the darkness. Evrem shouted, “Hands! Hands Up!” A second man stumbled from the bed, dazed. He went down hard, zip-tied, and facedown within seconds.

“Package secured,” said Evrem. “Two detained. Name matches Alan Karabulut and Teoman Seyfi from the list.”

Kai and Atasoy moved in from the stairwell, securing the floor as Cemal flipped the mattress in the second bedroom. Underneath was a steel box. Locked. “Captain, we’ve got something.” He knelt, starting to crack the latch.

Inside were maps. Again. Warsaw. Lublin. Paris. Some circled in black, others with red Xs. There was a rolled-up document stuffed between them: chemical notations, supply lists, and shipping manifests in Polish and Kurdish.

Evren flipped through a folder on the desk, images from a DSLR. Some showed trucks. Others showed faces, crowds outside a metro station, and a university in Poland. She could tell from the Polish flags and language on the building.

Hakan Kivanc’s voice came through the radio. “You need to see this.” He stood in the hallway holding a laptop, its screen alive with a single open chat window. Encrypted. Active.

Atasoy plugged in a signal sniffer, running the local network. “They were syncing to a drive.” He worked fast, copying everything.

Suddenly, Kai turned toward the window. “Movement. Balcony next door.”

“Contact, east side!” Temir shouted.

A man tried scaling the balcony divider, clumsy, fast, desperate. Temir kicked open the glass door and fired one shot. The body slumped between flowerpots and rain-slick steel.

Back inside, Atasoy stood over the makeshift command table the cell had set up, circuit boards, phones, and wiring. "This isn’t just planning," he said. "They're building devices."

Evrim nodded, thumbing through a notebook filled with acronyms and names. "Two of these guys were the PRGC political officers attached to our unit. Looks like they escaped the army during the capture of the capital last December."

Ozel’s jaw clenched. “We’ve got enough.”

“Copying complete,” Atasoy said.

"Secure the devices. Pack the files. We’re pulling out," Ozel ordered.

The team photographs bagged, laptops packed in Temir’s sleeves, maps sealed. The apartment was left as it had been found. Cleaning up the body of the one KIA, the team left the apartment swiftly. The Alfa convoy disappeared back into the wet streets of Mersin, their lights off. Just the hum of rain on rooftops and the fading echoes of voices outside as they held down the two suspects who tried to break out of their entrapment.