((So here it is. It’s quite long I know, but it’s the first post y’know. I’ll lock this thread until I have enough people who want to give a shot at it.
PS: I really don’t know that much about Istanbul, I just did some research and took a few notes before I wrote this.))
Thursday, July 5, 2012
20h32m
Itiklal Avenue, Taksim, Istanbul
Turkey (European side)
The avenue was crowded as always. The old Ottoman houses, the cozy 19th century lanterns and the red evening sky over the Bosporus shining on the white walls of the city’s buildings.
It was the perfect time to visit the Itikal Avenue and find a bar to have a cold drink on a hot summer day evening in Turkey.
A man with a red baseball cap, a blue Hawaii-shirt, red short pants and sandals worked his way in to the avenue.
He wasn’t tall, but not small either. About 1m70 maybe? He had those big retro glasses, not sunglasses, retro glasses and a silver Rolex watch on his left arm. A tiny red haired moustache betrayed his hair color which would otherwise have been hidden by the cap.
He seemed to be counting the lanterns. At the fifth lantern from the left he stopped, took a cigarette out of his pants’ pockets and smoked it. In front of him was an old Ottoman building which had flower pots on every window. Green pots, purple flowers, three on every window. Behind him was a sea of people. Most of them were Europeans since the Asian people had taken the last ferry over the Bosporus at 20h00. He stepped towards the window right next to the rotting wooden door of the house and dropped his ashes in the third flowerpot to the right.
Out of the crowd appeared a tall man, casual dark blue T-shirt, beige short pants and retro sunglasses. Almost the same ones like the other guy, but sunglasses this time.
He had long dark-brown hair up to his shoulders.
As he approached the man from behind, he pulled out a short metal stave from his pockets and pushed it into the man’s back.
“Don’t say anything. Come with me! We’re heading to that bar with red board above the entrance. Three houses to your left.” He whispered.
The two men walked towards the bar on a relaxed pace. The one with the cap didn’t even look nervous.
The tavern was also very crowded and men were playing card games while drinking and talking.
The man with the long hair addressed a barman who passed by.
“Where do I find the members only area sir? I’m a friend of Matti”
The stairs down, next to the men’s toilets sir. The man made a gesture with his head into the right direction.
The two men walked through and downstairs was an old cellar, which had been transformed in a tavern. There were only a few men down there and by seeing the trademarks of their cigars, you could guess they weren’t the working class people from on the ground floor.
They walked towards the far end of the bar and approached a table in the corner.
“Sit!”
The man in Hawaii-shirt sat in the corner against the wall and the other one in the opposite direction, so that the back of his head was in the direction of the stairs.
He now took off his sunglasses.
“Pope?” The man with the moustache asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry but you were two minutes late and I had no choice but to take you here. It’s safe here.
Anyways, it’s been too long my friend. How was your flight?”
The barmaid approached their table and Pope raised two fingers, meaning they wanted two pints.
“Horrible. It took me only one hour to leave Paris and six hours to leave Atatürk International Airport. The Turkish border agency frisked everything up to my appendix.”
“I told you, you shouldn’t have come alone. A tourist all alone with no travel agency is very suspicious. You’re probably even lucky they let you go, it’s the touristic season for Turkey.”
“Yeah, talk to me about it. I wonder how you survived here all this time.”
“I had military training.” The two men burst out in laughter.
“But let’s get to the point now. Do you think it’s possible for me to leave this place via Atatürk International Airport?”
The barmaid came back with two pints, Pope gave her 30 Lira and told her she could go.
“I’m sorry Pope, there is no way. Did you know that the AIA is the 16th busiest airport in the world? You can queue for check-in for hours. By that time one of the security agents will have recognized you. You’re on the wanted list of every airport throughout Europe.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t stay in this stinking rat hole forever.”
He took a sip of his pint every time he finished a sentence.
“Istanbul has two international airports. On the Asian side is Sabiha Gökçen International Airport.
It’s smaller and less guarded. You should leave through there.”
“Then how do I get on the Asian side without having to pass a control booth?”
“I called some people back when I was the hotel. This is what you do:
Find someone who has an access card for using the ferry every day, take a picture of it and make sure all the data are on it.
Take the Istanbul Metro towards Eminönü.”
“The Istanbul Metro? Hah! Nobody calls it like that here. We call it the M2 line or simply the M2.”
“Yeah, yeah, let me talk. Once you’re in Eminönü go find the Spice Bazaar. Its other name is the Egyptian Bazaar, so don’t be surprised if all the merchants would happen to be Egyptians. Once you’re there watch your corners, the number one income of the Bazaar is probably coming from pickpockets. Ask one of the merchants for purple potatoes. It’s a code name. If he answers, saying he only has purple pears then you have one of the right merchants. Ask him for a guy who calls himself Desert Lion. He’ll call him and he’ll be there in less than ten minutes.
If you found Desert Lion, give him the picture of the access card, a picture of yourself and 150 Lira.”
“So you want me to fake someone’s identity? “
“Not really, you’re just stealing his name.
Two days later, you go back to the same merchant at 14h00 and ask him for grey grapes. He’ll give you an exact copy of the access card with your picture on it and a ticket to Sarajevo on the name of the access card. Then go over the Galata-Bridge on foot towards Galata. In Galata you can take a Commuter Ferry about 200 meters south of the bridge over the Bosporus. Once you got on the Asian side of the town, take a cab towards the airport, the plane will leave at 18h00 as it always does.”
“Okay thanks Kilian, I owe you. I’ll see you once I get back to Brussels.”
Pope stood up and left the tavern. Kilian would leave ten minutes later.
Friday, July 6, 2012
08h02m
Levent Financial District, Istanbul
Turkey (European side)
Pope’s house was a wooden bungalow on a green hillside with a view on Istanbul’s expanding financial districts with its dozens of skyscrapers.
Pope stood before the mirror in his bathroom, staring at the man he saw in it. He grabbed his hair and bound it. He took his touch-screen phone out of his pocket and took a picture of himself.
The living room of the bungalow had a big window with a beautiful view on Levent Financial District.
On the wooden table in the middle of the room, Pope had set a printer. He walked outside the bathroom and connected his phone with it. While the printer was printing his picture he walked outside. His bungalow was the only house in the street and the city had placed a phone 100 meters further in the street. Tourists visited these green hills all the time and every weekend there was at least one of them who called a cab from there to get back to his hotel.
Pope used it for other purposes. He assumed it to be safer than using his own cellphone.
It was a funny sight, in the middle of the bushes stood an orange phone booth.
He paid the price of 2 Lira for using the phone and tapped a phone number.
“Hello?” A voice came out of the phone
“Matti, it’s Pope. That barman that works at your place is from the Asian side of the city right?”
“Hakim? Yes, why do you ask?”
“I need you to take a picture of his access card to the ferry. Can you do that?”
“Anything for you Pope.”
“Okay, if you did so, please send it to my phone. I need it asap.”
“It’s done. Give me ten minutes.”
*click*
By the time Pope had returned to the bungalow, he had received the picture of the access card and printed it as well.
He took an old city-bike, which stood against the wall of his bungalow and rode it down the hill. Getting down there was never the problem, you just had to sit on your bike and wait until you got down. It was getting back up that had proven more difficult.
Once he got down he was in entirely other world. No more bushes, hills and bungalows. The streets were filled with rich white people in smart suits and smokings, hidden under the shadows of the skyscrapers.
Pope rode his bike a few streets further inside the district.
4. Levent Station
This was where he was supposed to be. He hid his bike behind a wall near the station and walked downstairs in the recently built metro station. It still had that typical smell of construction sites throughout the city.
At 08h30 Pope would take the metro towards Eminönü. The Istanbul Metro somehow is a modern version of the London Tube. It was almost hard to believe this was Turkey and not England or America. The heat was the only real difference.
At least that is for the financial districts, the older neighborhoods were very ‘Ottoman’.
Eminönü is one of these older neighborhoods. It’s historical past is the origin for all the Egyptian people there. The Spice Bazaar wasn’t far from the station and Pope went straight for the first merchant he saw in the Bazaar. The Bazaar was an indoor market. More like a long street with a roof.
He asked the merchant for purple potatoes, but the merchant pointed out another merchant a few stalls further.
That merchant was an old Egyptian with a white beard and thick glasses.
When Pope asked him for purple potatoes, he gave him the right answer.
“I only have some purple pears left, sir.”
“I wish to see Desert Lion.”
The merchant whispered something in the ear of a trespassing police officer, which turned around and went inside the security office of the Bazaar and a few minutes later a young Egyptian with an Arafat-shawl and sun-glasses appeared.
Pope presented him the two pictures and the money.
Desert Lion took them and went back inside the office.
Now all that was left for Pope to do was going back to the bungalow and stay there for two days.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
08h09m
Levent Financial District, Istanbul
Turkey (European side)
Pope had attached a box to the wooden table. It was a bomb. He had learnt a few things from the German engineers back in Afghanistan.
He connected his touch-screen phone to the bomb with a self-made wire and ran a program with a timer. The timer was set on 24 hours. By that time Pope should have landed at Sarajevo.
He did the same thing as two days ago, only this time he would not return.
He went to the Spice Bazaar at 14h00 and asked the merchant with the white beard for grey grapes.
The man gave him the access card and the ticket to Sarajevo.
Pope left and followed the way Kilian had described: over the Galata-bridge, towards the Commuter Ferries.
As he tried to get on the ferry a security agent asked for his access card and all he had to do was showing him the fake card. Off he was, within a half hour he would be on the Asian side of the Bosporus.
PS: I really don’t know that much about Istanbul, I just did some research and took a few notes before I wrote this.))
Thursday, July 5, 2012
20h32m
Itiklal Avenue, Taksim, Istanbul
Turkey (European side)
The avenue was crowded as always. The old Ottoman houses, the cozy 19th century lanterns and the red evening sky over the Bosporus shining on the white walls of the city’s buildings.
It was the perfect time to visit the Itikal Avenue and find a bar to have a cold drink on a hot summer day evening in Turkey.
A man with a red baseball cap, a blue Hawaii-shirt, red short pants and sandals worked his way in to the avenue.
He wasn’t tall, but not small either. About 1m70 maybe? He had those big retro glasses, not sunglasses, retro glasses and a silver Rolex watch on his left arm. A tiny red haired moustache betrayed his hair color which would otherwise have been hidden by the cap.
He seemed to be counting the lanterns. At the fifth lantern from the left he stopped, took a cigarette out of his pants’ pockets and smoked it. In front of him was an old Ottoman building which had flower pots on every window. Green pots, purple flowers, three on every window. Behind him was a sea of people. Most of them were Europeans since the Asian people had taken the last ferry over the Bosporus at 20h00. He stepped towards the window right next to the rotting wooden door of the house and dropped his ashes in the third flowerpot to the right.
Out of the crowd appeared a tall man, casual dark blue T-shirt, beige short pants and retro sunglasses. Almost the same ones like the other guy, but sunglasses this time.
He had long dark-brown hair up to his shoulders.
As he approached the man from behind, he pulled out a short metal stave from his pockets and pushed it into the man’s back.
“Don’t say anything. Come with me! We’re heading to that bar with red board above the entrance. Three houses to your left.” He whispered.
The two men walked towards the bar on a relaxed pace. The one with the cap didn’t even look nervous.
The tavern was also very crowded and men were playing card games while drinking and talking.
The man with the long hair addressed a barman who passed by.
“Where do I find the members only area sir? I’m a friend of Matti”
The stairs down, next to the men’s toilets sir. The man made a gesture with his head into the right direction.
The two men walked through and downstairs was an old cellar, which had been transformed in a tavern. There were only a few men down there and by seeing the trademarks of their cigars, you could guess they weren’t the working class people from on the ground floor.
They walked towards the far end of the bar and approached a table in the corner.
“Sit!”
The man in Hawaii-shirt sat in the corner against the wall and the other one in the opposite direction, so that the back of his head was in the direction of the stairs.
He now took off his sunglasses.
“Pope?” The man with the moustache asked.
“Yes, I’m sorry but you were two minutes late and I had no choice but to take you here. It’s safe here.
Anyways, it’s been too long my friend. How was your flight?”
The barmaid approached their table and Pope raised two fingers, meaning they wanted two pints.
“Horrible. It took me only one hour to leave Paris and six hours to leave Atatürk International Airport. The Turkish border agency frisked everything up to my appendix.”
“I told you, you shouldn’t have come alone. A tourist all alone with no travel agency is very suspicious. You’re probably even lucky they let you go, it’s the touristic season for Turkey.”
“Yeah, talk to me about it. I wonder how you survived here all this time.”
“I had military training.” The two men burst out in laughter.
“But let’s get to the point now. Do you think it’s possible for me to leave this place via Atatürk International Airport?”
The barmaid came back with two pints, Pope gave her 30 Lira and told her she could go.
“I’m sorry Pope, there is no way. Did you know that the AIA is the 16th busiest airport in the world? You can queue for check-in for hours. By that time one of the security agents will have recognized you. You’re on the wanted list of every airport throughout Europe.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t stay in this stinking rat hole forever.”
He took a sip of his pint every time he finished a sentence.
“Istanbul has two international airports. On the Asian side is Sabiha Gökçen International Airport.
It’s smaller and less guarded. You should leave through there.”
“Then how do I get on the Asian side without having to pass a control booth?”
“I called some people back when I was the hotel. This is what you do:
Find someone who has an access card for using the ferry every day, take a picture of it and make sure all the data are on it.
Take the Istanbul Metro towards Eminönü.”
“The Istanbul Metro? Hah! Nobody calls it like that here. We call it the M2 line or simply the M2.”
“Yeah, yeah, let me talk. Once you’re in Eminönü go find the Spice Bazaar. Its other name is the Egyptian Bazaar, so don’t be surprised if all the merchants would happen to be Egyptians. Once you’re there watch your corners, the number one income of the Bazaar is probably coming from pickpockets. Ask one of the merchants for purple potatoes. It’s a code name. If he answers, saying he only has purple pears then you have one of the right merchants. Ask him for a guy who calls himself Desert Lion. He’ll call him and he’ll be there in less than ten minutes.
If you found Desert Lion, give him the picture of the access card, a picture of yourself and 150 Lira.”
“So you want me to fake someone’s identity? “
“Not really, you’re just stealing his name.
Two days later, you go back to the same merchant at 14h00 and ask him for grey grapes. He’ll give you an exact copy of the access card with your picture on it and a ticket to Sarajevo on the name of the access card. Then go over the Galata-Bridge on foot towards Galata. In Galata you can take a Commuter Ferry about 200 meters south of the bridge over the Bosporus. Once you got on the Asian side of the town, take a cab towards the airport, the plane will leave at 18h00 as it always does.”
“Okay thanks Kilian, I owe you. I’ll see you once I get back to Brussels.”
Pope stood up and left the tavern. Kilian would leave ten minutes later.
Friday, July 6, 2012
08h02m
Levent Financial District, Istanbul
Turkey (European side)
Pope’s house was a wooden bungalow on a green hillside with a view on Istanbul’s expanding financial districts with its dozens of skyscrapers.
Pope stood before the mirror in his bathroom, staring at the man he saw in it. He grabbed his hair and bound it. He took his touch-screen phone out of his pocket and took a picture of himself.
The living room of the bungalow had a big window with a beautiful view on Levent Financial District.
On the wooden table in the middle of the room, Pope had set a printer. He walked outside the bathroom and connected his phone with it. While the printer was printing his picture he walked outside. His bungalow was the only house in the street and the city had placed a phone 100 meters further in the street. Tourists visited these green hills all the time and every weekend there was at least one of them who called a cab from there to get back to his hotel.
Pope used it for other purposes. He assumed it to be safer than using his own cellphone.
It was a funny sight, in the middle of the bushes stood an orange phone booth.
He paid the price of 2 Lira for using the phone and tapped a phone number.
“Hello?” A voice came out of the phone
“Matti, it’s Pope. That barman that works at your place is from the Asian side of the city right?”
“Hakim? Yes, why do you ask?”
“I need you to take a picture of his access card to the ferry. Can you do that?”
“Anything for you Pope.”
“Okay, if you did so, please send it to my phone. I need it asap.”
“It’s done. Give me ten minutes.”
*click*
By the time Pope had returned to the bungalow, he had received the picture of the access card and printed it as well.
He took an old city-bike, which stood against the wall of his bungalow and rode it down the hill. Getting down there was never the problem, you just had to sit on your bike and wait until you got down. It was getting back up that had proven more difficult.
Once he got down he was in entirely other world. No more bushes, hills and bungalows. The streets were filled with rich white people in smart suits and smokings, hidden under the shadows of the skyscrapers.
Pope rode his bike a few streets further inside the district.
4. Levent Station
This was where he was supposed to be. He hid his bike behind a wall near the station and walked downstairs in the recently built metro station. It still had that typical smell of construction sites throughout the city.
At 08h30 Pope would take the metro towards Eminönü. The Istanbul Metro somehow is a modern version of the London Tube. It was almost hard to believe this was Turkey and not England or America. The heat was the only real difference.
At least that is for the financial districts, the older neighborhoods were very ‘Ottoman’.
Eminönü is one of these older neighborhoods. It’s historical past is the origin for all the Egyptian people there. The Spice Bazaar wasn’t far from the station and Pope went straight for the first merchant he saw in the Bazaar. The Bazaar was an indoor market. More like a long street with a roof.
He asked the merchant for purple potatoes, but the merchant pointed out another merchant a few stalls further.
That merchant was an old Egyptian with a white beard and thick glasses.
When Pope asked him for purple potatoes, he gave him the right answer.
“I only have some purple pears left, sir.”
“I wish to see Desert Lion.”
The merchant whispered something in the ear of a trespassing police officer, which turned around and went inside the security office of the Bazaar and a few minutes later a young Egyptian with an Arafat-shawl and sun-glasses appeared.
Pope presented him the two pictures and the money.
Desert Lion took them and went back inside the office.
Now all that was left for Pope to do was going back to the bungalow and stay there for two days.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
08h09m
Levent Financial District, Istanbul
Turkey (European side)
Pope had attached a box to the wooden table. It was a bomb. He had learnt a few things from the German engineers back in Afghanistan.
He connected his touch-screen phone to the bomb with a self-made wire and ran a program with a timer. The timer was set on 24 hours. By that time Pope should have landed at Sarajevo.
He did the same thing as two days ago, only this time he would not return.
He went to the Spice Bazaar at 14h00 and asked the merchant with the white beard for grey grapes.
The man gave him the access card and the ticket to Sarajevo.
Pope left and followed the way Kilian had described: over the Galata-bridge, towards the Commuter Ferries.
As he tried to get on the ferry a security agent asked for his access card and all he had to do was showing him the fake card. Off he was, within a half hour he would be on the Asian side of the Bosporus.
