1921, December 1st, Thursday.
December ushered in a biting wind from the Black Sea, a physical manifestation of the chill that still pervaded Constantinople's political climate despite the recent Ottoman victory in the Port Authority agreement. Sultan Murad VII knew that this victory, while crucial, was but a single battle won. The war for his Empire's survival required the laying of new foundations – economic, military, and political – even as dangerous fault lines, both old and new, threatened to crack whatever progress was made.
The first day of the new month saw Murad convene the inaugural informal planning session for his proposed "Imperial Reconstruction Council." Beside him were Grand Vizier Tevfik Pasha, Finance Minister Cavit Bey, War Minister Ferik Fevzi Pasha, and the newly co-opted Minister of Public Works, an aging but highly experienced engineer named Behçet Efendi. "Gentlemen," Murad began, "the revenues we are beginning to reclaim, however modest, and the spirit of renewal we are trying to foster, must be channeled into tangible improvements for our state and our people. This Council's purpose is to identify the most urgent needs and to oversee projects that rebuild our shattered infrastructure and economy with efficiency and, above all, integrity." Behçet Efendi, a man of practicalities, spoke first. "Your Majesty, our railways are in a deplorable state, vital lines cut or barely functional. The telegraph network is equally compromised. Without reliable transport and communication, economic revival is impossible." Cavit Bey added, "And we must support industries that provide employment and reduce our dependence on expensive imports. Basic textiles, food processing, even small-scale arms component manufacture if Fevzi Pasha deems it feasible under current constraints." Fevzi Pasha nodded. "Indeed. And military infrastructure – Davutpaşa is but the first step. Secure depots, roads capable of military transport, these are also national reconstruction priorities." They spent several hours identifying initial target areas: the urgent repair of the Constantinople-Izmit railway line (a key artery), the establishment of small state-backed cooperatives to improve food distribution and counter hoarding, and investment in Behçet Efendi's plan to repair critical sections of the telegraph network using locally sourced materials where possible. Murad emphasized that all projects undertaken by this Council must be subject to Cavit Bey's rigorous financial oversight to prevent the corruption that had plagued past efforts. The seeds of renewal were being carefully sown.
Meanwhile, the Joint Commission of Inquiry into the Port Authority continued its work, a daily grind of sifting through deceit. Cavit Bey reported to Murad that his team, now granted access to the Harbor Maintenance Contract records, was unearthing a cesspool. "It is as we suspected, Your Majesty, but the brazenness is astonishing," Cavit said, his voice tight with anger. "We have found dozens of contracts for dredging, pier repair, and warehouse construction awarded at grossly inflated prices to companies with direct, demonstrable links to senior Allied Port officials or their local cronies. Invoices for materials never delivered, payments for labor never performed, phantom companies billing for 'consultancy services' that consisted of nothing more than kickbacks." He presented one particularly egregious example: a British engineering firm, with a director known to be a close associate of Colonel Hughes, had been paid nearly one hundred thousand gold Lira over the past year for 'emergency repairs' to a series of quays that, according to the Port's own (suppressed) internal engineering reports, required only minor, routine maintenance. "The 'emergency' Your Majesty," Cavit stated coldly, "was clearly in their own pockets." "And Colonel Hughes's reaction to this in the Commission?" Murad asked. "He blusters, he denies, he claims 'misunderstanding of complex operational necessities,'" Cavit replied. "But Monsieur Lacroix and Signor Valenti are visibly uncomfortable when these specific British-linked contracts are dissected. They are quick to agree to 'further investigation' of these particular files, no doubt hoping to distance their own nationals from this specific instance of plunder. The fault lines amongst them are widening with each new revelation."
Kolağası Esad Bey's intelligence directorate was also actively probing other fault lines. Regarding the suspicious Galata warehouse with its alleged links to General Harington's staff, Esad reported, "My operatives, Your Majesty, including one of the new ex-Teşkilat-ı Mahsusa men with exceptional skills in covert entry, managed a very brief, very risky nocturnal reconnaissance inside a section of the warehouse last night." Murad leaned forward. "And?" "It is as we suspected, and worse," Esad said grimly. "Not just silks and carpets, Your Majesty. They photographed crates clearly marked with the insignia of several European museums, containing what appeared to be ancient Phrygian and Hittite artifacts – items that could only have come from illicit excavations in Anatolia or from the plundering of our own Imperial collections during the chaos of the Armistice. There were also crates of high-quality French wines and brandies, far exceeding any legitimate consular allowance, and several strongboxes whose contents could not be ascertained but which were heavily guarded even within the warehouse." "So, Harington's staff, or those under his protection, are not just engaged in illicit trade, but in the looting of our national heritage," Murad said, his voice dangerously quiet. "This is… monstrous. Continue your surveillance, Esad Bey. I want irrefutable proof linking these activities directly to identifiable high-level Allied officials. This information, if we can solidify it, could be even more explosive than the Port ledgers."
On the internal front, Esad's news was more troubling. "Your Majesty, the reactionary circle forming around the former Abdülhamid-era operative, Kara Davud, is indeed more dangerous than Mahmud Bey's group. Kara Davud is a man of considerable cunning and ruthlessness, with a network of old loyalties in the more conservative religious schools and among disgruntled former soldiers who feel disenfranchised by the changes since the Young Turk era and the current perceived weakness of the Empire." "What are their aims?" Murad asked. "For now, they are focused on discrediting your government, particularly Sheikh-ul-Islam Nuri Efendi, whom they accuse of being a 'modernist' and a 'tool of the palace.' They are spreading rumors that Your Majesty is secretly negotiating with the Ankara 'heretics' to abandon the Caliphate, or that your reforms are an affront to Islamic tradition. Their propaganda is subtle but insidious, designed to erode your support among the pious and the traditionalist elements of the population. Kara Davud himself is an enigma; he operates from the deepest shadows. My efforts to infiltrate his inner circle have so far proven… challenging." "Prioritize this, Esad Bey," Murad commanded. "This kind of internal rot, appealing to misplaced piety and fear of change, can be as dangerous as any foreign enemy. We must understand Kara Davud's ultimate objectives and his backers."
While these new threats and investigations unfolded, Fevzi Pasha reported solid progress at Davutpaşa Barracks. "The initial clearance is complete, Your Majesty. The engineering corps has begun reinforcing the foundations of the main barracks block and the old mess hall. We have established a secure perimeter, guarded by a company of Hassa Ordusu. The first consignment of timber and stone, funded by the Port advance, has arrived. The transformation has begun. Within a month, we will be able to house the first full battalion there, even as refurbishment continues." He also mentioned that the training of the Hassa Ordusu recruits was progressing rapidly, with a focus on urban combat tactics and marksmanship with their new rifles.
Then, late in the afternoon, as Murad was reviewing state papers with Tevfik Pasha, Esad Bey entered, his face betraying an uncharacteristic urgency. He carried a small, tightly sealed oilskin pouch. "Your Imperial Majesty, Your Highness," Esad said, his voice hushed. "A message. From Ankara." The room fell silent. Murad's heart leaped. This was far sooner than he had dared to hope for a response to his second missive. "The courier who carried your second message to Hacı Shukri Efendi returned to our contact point in Konya this morning, Your Majesty, far faster than anticipated, traveling day and night on his return. Hacı Shukri Efendi, it seems, acted with extraordinary speed and discretion." Esad carefully opened the pouch and extracted a small, folded piece of rice paper, bearing only a few lines of elegant, coded script. He quickly deciphered it. His eyes widened. He looked at Murad, then at Tevfik Pasha. "Your Majesty," Esad said, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and elation, "Hacı Shukri Efendi conveys his humble respects. He states that your heartfelt words and your clear desire for the unity of the Ummah and the salvation of our lands from foreign defilement were received by… certain influential ears in Ankara with… 'profound contemplation and a degree of cautious hope.'" He paused, taking a deep breath. "He then states, Your Majesty, that while a formal or public engagement remains utterly impossible at this time due to the deep wounds and political realities, he has been authorized by these same influential ears – he does not name them – to propose a single, entirely secret, entirely unofficial, exploratory meeting. He, Hacı Shukri Efendi himself, is willing to travel, under the guise of a private pilgrimage, to a discreet, neutral location. He suggests the tomb of the great Sufi master Jalaluddin Rumi in Konya, a place sacred to all Muslims, within the next ten days. He would meet there with a single, equally discreet, trusted representative of Your Majesty, for no more than a few hours, simply to… 'exchange views on matters of shared spiritual and national concern, and to ascertain if any path, however narrow, might exist towards future understanding.' He awaits only your word on whether such a meeting would be welcomed, and who your trusted representative might be."
A profound silence filled the Sultan's study. Murad felt a dizzying wave of emotions – elation, fear, immense hope, crushing responsibility. Konya. A secret meeting. With a direct, if unofficial, envoy from within Ankara's influential circles. This was it. The Anatolian echo had become a clear, if whispered, call. The fault lines within the Empire were profound, but for the first time, a fragile bridge was being tentatively offered across the widest chasm of all. December had begun with a maelstrom of challenges, but it had also brought this singular, electrifying possibility. The foundations Murad was laying in Constantinople suddenly felt more vital than ever, for they might soon have to bear the weight of an entire nation's hope for reunification.