Thailand to PKK

[Bossza007]

Confederal Government
Official Correspondence

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Encryption: Encrypted and Secret
Recipient: Kurdistan Workers' Party's operatives in the Bangkok Federation Jay
Sender: Confederal Intelligence Bureau
Subject Meeting and Update

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Dear Comrades

The Confederal Intelligence Bureau extends its warm greeting to our Kurdish comrades in the Bangkok Federations. Under the command of the Board of Directors of Intelligence (BDI) and under the democratic oversight of the Security Audit Council (SAC), we invite you to a meeting at Paruskavan Palace. Furthermore, the CIB kindly requests updates on the latest developments and challenges of the operation of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) in West Asia. We would appreciate it if a brief update could be provided in a response to this message before the meeting. Any operatives wishing to enter a meeting can attach their names to the same correspondence for logistical purposes.

The CIB reiterates that the Confederal Government remains committed to supporting the struggles and demands of the PKK. We believe in the rights and freedoms of every human, including the right to self-determination and democratic self-governance. Kurdish operatives and people in Thailand have productively contributed to the beauty and depth of our nation’s diverse multicultural landscape.

Lastly, the Supreme Confederal Council is supportive of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party. We highlight that a degree of confederation-wide consensus exists because of the PKK’s ideology and righteous struggle. We hope that all Kurdish operatives and people are enjoying the direct democratic culture of our Confederation at the communal level.​

Regards,

Board of Directors of Intelligence
Central Intelligence Bureau​

 

[Jay]

The message had come through the Bangkok cell at midday and by the time it reached Mazlum the sun was already low over the Syrian plain. The safe house outside Qamishli was a low concrete building set back from the road behind a stand of dead olive trees. The generator ran in the back room and kept the lights on and not much else.

Mazlum read it twice at the table while Rojda and Serhat waited. Then he set it down between them.

Serhat looked at it and laughed once through his nose. "Board of Directors of Intelligence," he said. "Security Audit Council." He said the last two words the way a man says them when he finds them funny. "They put the whole org chart in the letter."

Rojda leaned over and read the relevant line again. "They are telling us who signed it. That is not unusual."

"What is unusual," Serhat said, "is that they know enough about the Bangkok cell to write to it."

"Careful enough that they know we exist and want to meet," Rojda said. "That is not the worst outcome."

Mazlum had not looked up from the page. "Paruskavan Palace," he said.

Rojda nodded. "Government guest facility. North of the old city. Official functions."

"They want our people to walk into a government building," Serhat said, "put their names on a correspondence going to a government intelligence service"

"They are the government," Rojda said.

"Which is the problem. If this goes wrong our people are not missing somewhere. They are in a file." He sat back. "A very official file."

Mazlum finally looked up. "They already have a file on us, Serhat. A letter on official stationery is not how you pick someone up. Besides the Turks won't be getting access to this any time soon."

"People have been picked up with worse assurances."

"People have also sat in rooms and done nothing and ended up with nothing," Rojda said. "At least this is a door."

Serhat crossed his arms. "A door they opened. Not us."

Mazlum looked at Rojda. "What do you know about the CIB."

She pulled her chair slightly closer to the table. "The Confederal government reorganized their intelligence structure when the Bangkok Federation consolidated. The BDI sits above the operational services, the SAC is the oversight body. On paper it is clean." She paused. "It is a communist government. The oversight is what the party decides it is."

"And their position on the Kurdish cause."

"Publicly supportive. The confederation cites self-determination in their literature, they name the Kurds often in their ideological literature. They are not shy about it."

Serhat unfolded his arms and put his hands flat on the table. "Being cited in literature and being given anything useful are different things."

"Yes," Rojda said. "That is why there is a meeting."

Mazlum was quiet for a moment. The generator hummed in the back room. Outside, somewhere down the road, a dog was barking at something in the dark.

"The Bangkok cell is asking for instructions," he said. "Not our opinion on the Thais. What do we tell them."

Serhat looked at him. "You want to go ahead with it."

"I want to know what they are offering," Mazlum said. "We have friends who write us letters and friends who send us things. The Thais have written a letter. We sit down, we listen, and we find out which kind they are."

"And what do they get from us before the meeting," Serhat said, nodding at the request for an update in the letter. "They are asking for a situation report before we even walk in the door."

"Cover our tracks in case this is an intel grab by the Turks, the cell can tell them enough in person" Mazlum said.

"Define enough."

"The struggle continues, Turkish pressure is significant, we remain committed. Nothing they cannot read in a newspaper. Nothing about operations. Nothing about the network or personnel."

Serhat was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I want it on record that I think this is a risk."

"It is on record," Mazlum said.

"I also want it on record that if our people end up in a Turkish intelligence facility because of a letter that used the phrase multicultural landscape..."

Rojda laughed despite herself.

"...I will consider it a personal failure," Serhat finished.

Mazlum looked at him. "Make sure whoever goes checks in within six hours of the meeting. If they do not check in, the cell goes dark and we pull the plug on the Bangkok cell."

Serhat nodded. "Who do we send."

"Whoever the cell lead trusts," Mazlum said. "One person. Someone who can listen and report back."

He pulled the paper toward him and picked up a pen. The reply was short. He did not dress it up. A courier picked up the response and delivered it to a signals team in Damascus that sent a short-burst radio communication to a long-range relay. At the long-range relay a secured message was sent to Bangkok using a route that put the message as going to Australia.

The Bangkok Team then sent this email.

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​

From: Kurdishcentreforthearts@gmail.com
To: Return Address
Subject: RE"
Security Clearance: Personal; Private (Publicly Available Encryption)

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Your message was received. To our potential Patrons.

We thank the you for this message and its continued solidarity with the Kurdish people and their arts.

We are pleased to accept the invitation to meet at Paruskavan Palace and look forward to a productive exchange on how we can best work together to support Kurdish artists and cultural activities.

One of our board members will be attending along with two of her associates.

We look forward to the meeting.

The Kurdish Centre for the Arts

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Bossza007

 

[Bossza007]

Paruskavan Palace, Headquarters of the Confederal Intelligence Bureau
Date and time unknown

“Hey, did you read the response from the PKK yet?” A feminine voice asked from a well-lit office full of modern equipment, high-quality air conditioning, and an air purification system. “You know, I just wonder how much funding the Kurdish Center for Arts receives annually. I believe they are qualified to annual donation from the Bangkok Federation?”

“I don’t know, you should check the federation website. However, they are certainly qualified under our federation-wide laws and constitution. Culture and arts are included in our inter-communal resource redistribution agreement.” A masculine voice responded as he spun his chair. “By the way, I still find it funny that you were on leave on the day Team was selected to sit on the board of directors. As I said, he was like the happiest and most regretful person at the same time.” The man chuckled lightly.

“I can’t believe I miss that. At least someone in our office gets to sit on the BDI. One of the benefits is saying, ‘Hey, Team, you still need to attend our biweekly workers’ council meeting, remember that.’ You know, just to keep him grounded.” The female said sarcastically. “He really has a habit of genuinely forgetting to attend such meetings. And he turns out to be someone who manages this office coffee supply as well.”

“Yeah, we need to remind him of our new preferred brand of coffee that the council voted on last week. He missed that because he was so distracted by going home to tell his husband that he got selected. I guess that must be pretty reassuring when you are a bottom gay man.” He spun his chair back and asked, “Who will be welcoming and meeting with the Kurdish cell again?”

“Oh, someone from the West Asia division named Jo. He’s okay. Nothing to really complain about him. I recommend you get to know him. Jo’s a really person we might stereotype as a typical Confederalist heterosexual guy.” She laughed. “But you really should get to know him. He is reliable and friendly.”

Meanwhile, Jo was waiting for the Kurdish operatives in the headquarters’ lobby. Alongside him was Team, the randomly selected intelligence expert who sat on the nine-seat CIB’s board of directors.

“Knowing that the SCC allows up to two billion USD to be initially offered to the PKK is really reassuring,” Jo said to Team. “While our ideology is similar and theoretically connected, the reality in West Asia is inherently militaristic and survivalist. Idealistic flattering will just put them off. It’s good to know that many federations are so keen to provide foreign capitals.”

“It’s alright, we are in a position to give them something concrete. Thanks to that former Turkish ambassador, Berhan Ekinci, we have access to the PKK’s Bangkok cell. I believe the initial transfer of five hundred million USD is already inside the PKK’s wallet.” Team smiled and stood up. “Anyway, it’s nice talking to you. You are very sharp as always. I hope the meeting goes well. My office probably needs me back.” With that, he waved and vanished deeply inside the building.

Jo looked outside the entrance to Paruskavan Palace; the security and digital integration inside and surrounding this building are a reflection of Thailand’s technological advancement. He remembered when the revolution was fought, on that fateful day of May 19, 1998. He remembered it too well, especially since he was in Bangkok. The fetid smell of blood, smoke, gunpowder, and corpses.

Two hundred thousand people died in a one-day revolution across Thailand. If anything, he deems it an offense to the Confederation if any foreign, especially Western, individual sees Thailand today and says they lived in relative comfort. No, he thought to himself. The transition wasn’t easy; it was as difficult as the day the people of Thailand killed each other. He had all the experience, memory, and trauma to meet the Kurdish cell as an equal comrade-in-arms. Appearance was only deceiving when you looked from away, he thought as he looked at the comfort he had in the building.

And so, he waited for the three PKK operatives.

Jay