Chapter 17
While Louis and Dora were celebrating Louis’ seventy-ninth birthday, Rasim was sailing on a motorboat in the seas of Istanbul, heading toward a yacht moored about one mile off the coast.
There were two motorboats following him, one held three Arab Emirates agents on board and the other belonged to the Turkish secret service.
He climbed the rope stairs and boarded the yacht, which proudly waved a Grand Cayman flag. As soon as he set foot on the deck, he was greeted by Irina and her new boss, who introduced himself as Alexey Petrenko.
He resisted the temptation of hugging Irina, wondering if it was the same for her, and formally shook hands with both of his guests.
They moved down to the living room and Alexey asked Rasim where he would like the ship to go. The meeting was expected to last a few hours, they could squeeze in some sightseeing before.
“Oh, well if you already have the transit permit, I would definitely love a ride across the Bosphorus Strait.”
“Of course we have got the permit,” chuckled back Alexey. “When we ask our Turkish friends for the means to properly host our guests, they always think of everything that might be needed. And they don’t ask any questions afterwards. Of course, both of us will have to return the favor somehow, but the world affairs in our region always give plenty of opportunity to pay off debt.”
During the first hours, the meeting dealt with exchanging of intelligence about Chechnian and Arab foreign fighters in Northern Syria.
Irina had been promoted and was now sitting at the table as the official ‘rezident’ of the FSB in the United Arab Emirates. Since this was confidential business, her public duty was to manage the cultural and scientific matters of the Russian Embassy.
Alexey was in charge of the Middle East Section of the Foreign Directorate of the FSB. He was used to sitting in meetings with Vladimir Putin every so often.
By the time they reached the final point of their agenda, the yacht was starting to enter the Bosphorus. They decided to take a break, left the living room, and went out on the deck to breathe some fresh air.
Rasim and Irina recognized the Topkapi Palace, which was the residence of the Ottoman Sultans and, before them, of the Byzantine Emperors. As they sailed along the Strait, they could spot the Palace lodge situated right at the end of the Golden Horn peninsula.
From those huge arched windows, Byzantine emperors and Turkish sultans had overlooked for centuries the trade between Europe and Asia.
Now the ancient kingdoms were gone, replaced by the Turkish republic. Hagia Sophia had been turned into a museum, and the Blue Mosque was more of a tourist attraction than a place of worship. Only trade continued steadily along the Bosphorus. Irina and Rasim exchanged a look, knowing they were also part of that trade.
“Have you ever read the Koran, Irina?” asked Rasim suddenly. Irina had been caught off guard.
“The Koran? Rasim, I was brought up in the last years of the Soviet Union. I barely know some verses from the Bible, save for the one that says tax collectors and prostitutes will be the first to enter the Kingdom of God. Obviously I have a clear, vested interest in that,” she said with a subtle smile, regaining control.
“You should do it, especially now that you are in charge of cultural affairs for your Rodina in a Muslim country. Anyway, this place reminded me of the quote by Orhan Pamuk, a Turkish writer, to the verses in the Surah of the Limb that describe why Satan was kicked out of heaven. The account is slightly different from the one of the Bible. According to the Koran, Satan was driven out of heaven because he refused to obey the order of God to adore Adam, the last creation. Adam was made out of clay while Satan, like all other angels, had been made out of fire. And since fire is superior to clay, the request was a bit inconsistent.”
“I see,” commented Irina. “It was not plain rebellion. He actually tried to outsmart God.”
“Yes, I think the Bible has a similar concept too. But at the beginning of mankind, God decided to have man worshipped by creatures that are superior to him. Therefore, taking this into account, it is completely natural that people develop a sense of vanity, envy, rivalry and greed. This is actually the will of God, not the pollution of Satan. You can imagine how this interpretation created a huge problem with Pamuk and the Muslim clergy, but there is more merit in it. Don’t you think?”
“Why are you telling me this now, Rasim? I do not see the connection.”
“I do not know, it just popped up in my mind. Maybe I am just trying to find a reason for what we are doing here.”
One of the sailors quietly approached them, and motioned for them to re-enter the living room. Inside, protected by the darkened windows, Alexey had finished his cigarette and was waiting for them to restart the meeting.
Alexey had switched off the projector and distributed some printouts. They contained the full report of the Biochemistry Analysis lab of the Academy of Science of the Russian Federation, in both English and Russian. Alexey started going into the last topic of the agenda.
“We do not have to go through all of this, you can read it afterwards. To sum it up, our best scientists have confirmed the conclusion of your experts. This drug is extremely difficult to deformulate, despite the many samples you have provided for us. All they could find is that it is based on the telomerase enzyme, plus an additional set of active molecules that make it interfere with dopamine and cocaine. The effects are those that you have described, you can slash cocaine consumption and keep the people addicted with less side effects. I suppose you do not want to tell us who is producing this stuff and how, so why are we talking about it?”
“Because I have a deal to propose to you,” Rasim answered, “We do not control the production of this pill, but we have access to an unlimited quantity of it. We are a trading country, after all. I know that consumption is spreading with huge returns for the drug dealers. What if you also entered this business? We can supply you with as much of this drug as you need, I mean several thousands per month, and this would easily finance your covert operations. Every pill is sold on average at $50,000 on the European and North American markets, and the markets in Africa and large parts of Asia have still to be developed.”
Alexey weighed the proposal. Black funds financing secret operations were always of paramount importance for any secret service. The CIA had come up with the brilliant idea to print fake dollars in North Korea, but with the price of keeping the FSB and China quiet, it was never enough.
Additionally, the FSB had fewer issues with Congress and Parliament control than their cousins in the West.
“Let’s assume we are interested. You understand that we do not want to pay cash and I do not think you are interested in oil or gas from us, right?”
“Absolutely not. You know, looking at how things are developing in our region, my government is seeking ways to secure its status and security among its turbulent, ambitious and sometimes utterly chaotic neighbors. Our assessment is that the Iranians will sooner or later develop weapons of mass destruction.
This last episode of the nerve gas crisis in Syria, that your President skillfully defused, is yet another demonstration that WMDs do help to stabilize governments, especially in our area. Everyone remembers that Saddam was attacked by the Americans even when they knew he had no WMDs, despite the false public evidence denying it.”
Alexey raised his hand and interrupted Rasim.
“Alright. Message received. I cannot give you an answer now, however I can tell you that nuclear weapons will most likely be out of the question. We need a few weeks to decide.”
He stood up and the trio shook hands. As they all went out on the deck, a motorboat pulled up next to the yacht, allowing Rasim to board. He gave one last wave to Irina, then the motorboat sped down the Bosphorus Strait towards a pier near the Dolmabahce Palace, built in perfect European style, that once served as the home of the great Ottoman admirals.