Operation Just Cause II

[Jay]

OPERATION JUST CAUSE II

Security Classification: TOP SECRET

SITUATION REPORT

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OVERVIEW The Republic of Türkiye has authorized a covert intelligence operation in response to escalating security concerns connected to PKK-linked activity in Europe. The organization has been directed to conduct a targeted intelligence mission in Rome to neutralize Hasan Özen. Raids against PKK insurgents inside Türkiye and Northern Iraq have identified Özen as a principal financier of the PKK's financial network in Germany. Operating out of Austria, the MİT's direct action group has been tasked with finding, neutralizing, and disposing of Hasan Özen. Turkish intelligence has learned from sources that Özen will be in Rome, and as such, plans for Operation Just Cause II have been adjusted to be carried out in Italy. Operatives Siyah and Doğan will carry out their operation through the Turkish Embassy in Rome. Operation Just Cause II is designed as a limited intelligence operation focused on the disruption of the PKK's financial networks. MİT's direct action group will operate alongside diplomatic cover officials to carry out this operation.

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BELLIGERENTS

BLUEFOR	TARGET
Republic of Türkiye National Intelligence Organization (MİT)	Kurdistan Workers' Party Hasan Özen Italian security and intelligence authorities

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MISSION OBJECTIVES

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Operation Phase I: Intelligence Preparation

• Deploy MİT personnel under official and non-official capacities.
• Arrive in Rome and begin the hunt to locate Özen.
• Locate Özen and prepare to eliminate him.

Operation Phase II: Direct Action

• Direct Action Group will carry out a targeted hit on Özen.

Operation Phase III: Extraction

• MİT personnel under non-official covers will exfil back to Türkiye.

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Active Personnel

[3] MİT Intelligence Officers

• [1] Diplomatic Cover Attached to Turkish Embassy, Ankara
• [2] 'illegals'

[4] Support and Analysis Personnel, Ankara

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SECRET​ Operation Parameters​ Mission Planning Objective Definition: Operation Just Cause II will deploy two MİT Direct Action Personnel code names Siyah and Doğan, who will fly to Rome to meet with Puhu, an MİT case officer under official cover. Puhu will provide Siyah and Doğan access to weapons and equipment to carry out their operation. The operation will focus on identifying and neutralizing Özen. Area of Operations: The primary area of operations will be Rome, Italy. Post-Mission Procedures Departure: Siyah and Doğan will depart upon conclusion of kill operations and return to Ankara for mission debrief. Assessment: Following completion of the mission period, collected information will be reviewed to determine further diplomatic, intelligence, or security responses. Documentation: All mission-related reports will be archived according to intelligence handling procedures and restricted access requirements.

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CAMPAIGN REGISTER​

Phase	Description	Status
Just Cause – Phase I: Intelligence Assessment	MİT personnel operating under the codenames Siyah and Doğan establish contact with Puhu to receive mission objectives, reporting requirements, and operational priorities.	Active
Just Cause – Phase II: Direct Action	Siyah and Doğan will carry out a direct action operation against their target with the goal of neutralizing him. Efforts will be made to label the attack as an inter-PKK fight over the group's vision and future. The goal is to maintain plausible deniability and ensure the ability to conduct reprisals for ongoing PKK terror attacks in Türkiye.	Planned
Just Cause – Phase III: Extraction	Siyah and Doğan will extract immediately upon completion of their operation.	Planned

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END OF DOCUMENT
BELGENİN SONU​

 

[Jay]

SECRET​

The arrivals hall at Leonardo da Vinci International Airport hummed with rolling suitcases dragging across polished floors, the low murmur of dozens of different passengers from all over the world. Outside the overhead glass ceiling, a soft orange hue began to lighten the place as Rome settled into the morning.

Doğan adjusted the strap of his carry-on and glanced sideways at Siyah, who was scrolling through something on her notebook. Neither of them looked at each other for more than a few seconds as Siyah was busying herself with a printed itinerary attached to her notebook.

"Passport, please have it ready," an Italian airport attendant called down the line, funneling the crowd of disembarked passengers toward the immigration queue.

Ahead of them, a broad-shouldered man in a golf polo turned halfway around, catching her eyes. Siyah knew this guy would be chatter.

"Rough one?" he asked as Siyah noticed the thick Texas with its vowels stretched flat and easy.

"From Istanbul," she said, "Six hours feels like ten after a work week."

"First time in Rome?" He asked.,

"For me, yes." She tilted her head toward Doğan, who was just staring at the line hoping it'd move along. "Emre's been through before, layovers mostly. I'm off from my hospital rotation in Ankara, so I told him he owed me an actual weekend. Trevi Fountain, the Colosseum, entirely too much pasta. The whole thing." She said giving him a soft nudge causing him to look over and extend his hand to the American and say hello.

"Enjoy Rome while you've got the chance, then." The man's wife touched his elbow from behind, and he half-turned back to her, then added over his shoulder, "Best pizza's not near the tourist spots, by the way. Ask a local, walk ten minutes further than you think you should."

"Good to know," Siyah said, and the line lurched forward again.

The queue thinned ahead of them. A uniformed officer at one of the booths glanced up, scanned the line, and beckoned with two fingers.

"Prossimi. Next two, avanti."

Siyah gave the Texan a parting wave, murmured something about it being nice talking to him, and let her hand find Doğan's. Together they stepped toward the booth. Doğan slid both passports across the counter.

Emre Oktem	Zehra Senturk
Nationality: Republic of Türkiye Passport No.: U 08256560 Date of Birth: 13 April 1979 Place of Birth: İzmir, Türkiye Issued: 14 February 2007 Expires: 13 February 2017	Nationality: Republic of Türkiye Passport No.: U 08229443 Date of Birth: 22 May 1980 Place of Birth: Bursa, Türkiye Issued: 18 August 2008 Expires: 19 August 2018

Danny

 

[Danny]

The Airport would be bustling with holiday goers, it was coming to the summer season and Italy specially Rome at this time of the year would be popular with those visiting the many tourist attractions the capital had to offer.

Finanziere Altieri of the Guardia di Finanzia would be sat at the border control booth. He was a 48 year old divorcee and you could tell it had hit him hard. His hair was missing from the top, whilst black matte hair remained at the back and sides whilst his eyes were covered in tiredness. He was a burly, stocky individual who had been apart of the Guardia for many years, he was close to reaching Sovrintendenti back in 2004. But an serious incident that was caused by Altieri which was brushed under carpet and demoted to Customs left him with nothing.

He looked to the two Turks with a disgruntled look as if he hated his job, he reached out his hand gesturing for their passports. Upon being handed over, he'd carefully review each one rubbing his chin.

Noticing nothing out of the ordinary from the baggage checks and the passports, he'd stamp on each of their passports arrival marking the date and location before handing each of their passports back.

"Benvenuto di Roma." (Welcome to Rome) He gestured for the next in line.

Jay

 

[Jay]

SECRET​

Emre and Zehra took back their passports and smiled. "Thank you." They passed through immigration and out into the terminal, traveling light, backpacks and a carry-on between them. They walked in silence through the airport to the doors leading out to the taxi stand.

The taxi took them to their accommodation. Emre paid cash at the reception. Once inside their room, they unpacked and changed. Zehra kept watch at the window, eyes tracking the street below, while Emre swept the room, checking behind the mirror, under the mattress, along the baseboards and everywhere else. Once he was done he turned and gave Zehra a nod. She disappeared into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later in a loose shirt, her hair pulled back.

"Right," Emre said, handing her a folded page. "That's the target. The organization says he has a meeting here in Rome with left-wing militants. The station confirmed the meeting will be tonight near Trigoria."

Zehra studied it, then checked her watch. "We should get to the drop site soon."

Emre nodded and buttoned his linen shirt halfway up. They left the room and stepped into the street, folding into the foot traffic. They wandered past a few shopfronts and attractions, unhurried, until the path opened onto a small local park.

Emre scanned the treeline while Zehra crouched to retie her shoe, unhurried, her eyes flicking once toward the fountain at the center of the path before she stood. He took her hand, and they walked on, past a mother pushing a stroller, past two old men arguing amicably over a chessboard balanced on a stone ledge. They passed two trees before slowing near a third, a crooked one, its trunk bent low over the path.

Then the fountain came into view, worn marble, water lisping over a chipped rim. A single coin sat balanced on the edge. Zehra only tightened her grip on Emre's hand, once, and he understood.

They sat. As they took in the leaves stirring, joggers passing, a burst of laughter from children chasing a dog near the swings.

Zehra leaned in and kissed him, her hand sliding beneath the bench's slats as she did. Her fingers found the thin roll of paper wedged into the gap and drew it free in the same motion, tucking it into her sleeve before she'd even pulled back from the kiss.

They stayed a few minutes longer, watching the joggers, playing the part of two people with nowhere else to be. Then they rose and walked on, out through the park's far gate.

Once they were clear, Zehra slipped the paper from her sleeve into Emre's palm without either of them looking down. He unrolled it just enough to read the words in a tight, cramped hand, an address, a time, before rolling it thin again between his fingers.

He stopped to light a cigarette, cupping his hand against a breeze that wasn't really there, and tucked the paper alongside the tobacco at the tip. The flame caught it first. He let it curl and blacken, watching the ink disappear into ash, before he finally drew on the cigarette itself letting out a puff as the two walked through the streets to their next location.

They walked the rest of the way in no particular hurry.

The café was half-empty, tables mostly bare in the flat heat of the afternoon, a couple of old women with glasses of wine by the window and a waiter polishing the same spot on the counter. Emre held the door for Zehra, and they stepped in out of the sun.

The waitress looked up from behind the espresso machine, already faintly amused by the hour. "Buongiorno."

"Due cappuccini, per favore," Emre said.

Her eyebrows lifted, just slightly, cappuccino, at four in the afternoon. What a bunch of tourists she thought. She said nothing beyond a small nod, the corner of her mouth twitching. In the back, to the right.

Emre thanked her and they moved past the counter, through the curtain, into a dim back room that smelled of old espresso grounds and cigarette smoke. A man sat alone at a small table, a newspaper folded beside an empty cup.

Puhu looked up and smiled, "Welcome to Rome." He moved over to let the two take a seat. "I know it is not Vienna, but it is beautiful in its own way."

Emre took the seat as Zehra stayed standing for a moment. "Yes, sadly, we are temporarily here."

Zehra then took her seat. "Beauty is fleeting anyway."

Puhu nodded. "That it is indeed."

Puhu waited until the waitress had disappeared back through the curtain before he spoke, his voice dropping into something quieter, more clipped.

"Change of plans. Hasan Özen left Vienna last night. He's here, in Rome." He tapped the folded newspaper. "That's why this moved up."

Zehra's expression didn't shift, but she leaned in slightly. "Why Rome?"

"Station believes he's meeting with the radical left here, the old networks. Thailand wants the civil war restarted. A live insurgency in Italy again, decades after Anni di Piombo was supposed to be over. Özen is the one greasing the wheels."

Emre and Zehra exchanged a glance and nodded.

"What should we be expecting?" Zehra asked.

"We traced a call, a cellphone in Syria to a number here in Rome. The tech wizards confirmed it was him. He's set to meet Renato Bosco and a handful of his associates."

Puhu reached into his jacket and slid a yellow padded envelope across the table. Zehra took it without looking at it directly and slipped it into her purse.

"You'll find them in Trigoria," Puhu went on. "Third house down from the curb, on Via della Cronaca road."

"What should we expect there?" Zehra asked again, quieter this time.

"Difficulty. The Brigade will have their own counter-surveillance running. And Italian intelligence will almost certainly be trying to get in on this, if they've picked up even half of what we have." He paused. "You won't be the only ones in the shadows."

Emre sat back slightly. "So we're trying to slip between two cats, both hunting the same mouse."

Puhu allowed himself a small, tired smile at that. "Something like that."

He stood, straightened his jacket, and looked down at them. "Good luck. Once you've confirmed the target, extract immediately. You have a flight booked for tomorrow morning." Then he turned and walked out through the curtain, leaving the folded newspaper behind on the table.

Zehra watched the curtain settle back into place before she looked at Emre. "Just great. Center fucking changing the mission on us last minute. Half-baked intel. Theories not evidence. They're going to get us fucking killed."

"No," he agreed. "Vienna would've been clean. A single man, a single location, days to prepare." He turned his cup slowly on its saucer, not drinking from it.

"If Italian intelligence is already watching that street, we're not just avoiding Bosco's people. They'll be able to watch us before we leave." She kept her voice low, even, but her thumb moved absently against the strap of her purse. "We can't get him and get out. How the hell do they expect us to neutralize him?"

Emre finally took a sip of the cappuccino. "We go earlier then." He looked at her. "We go in earlier and scout it out. Figure out his vehicle and then place the explosive in the driver seat compartment. Detonate it remotely and exfil once it's done. Italian intelligence is following the Reds not Özen. It'll be cleaner and give us time to leave."

Zehra shook her head. "Are you mad?" She said rhetorically. "A bombing. A fucking bombing. That will alert them instantly. They will be all over us."

"No they won't." Emre said, putting down the cup. "The Italians have a thousand leftist and neo-nazi cells still active. By the time they realize the target was the Kurd, we will be long gone."

"And if Özen makes us?" Zehra said taking the newspaper from the table and folding it before dunking it slowly in the flame.

"We confirm he's there, we plant the bomb. We get the hell out of there. Puhu was clear. This isn't a snatch, is a hit operation."

Zehra exhaled slowly. "Let's just get this done."

They sat with that a while longer, the espresso machine hissing somewhere out front. Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. Neither of them reached for their cups again as Zehra wiped it down with a wipe from her bag before gettig up. .

Finally Emre set a few euros on the table and stood. "Shall we", he said, extending his arm.

Zehra rose without a word, slipping her purse onto her shoulder, and grabbing his arm from underneath. They walked back out through the half-empty café into the afternoon light. A cab was idling near the corner. Emre gave the driver an address two streets off from Via della Cronaca, and the two of them settled into the back seat as the cab pulled out into traffic, toward Trigoria.