Chapter XIV. Not a river

-Come with us, Ozcan is waiting for you.

The Turkish gendarmerie (border guard) car drove them towards the nearby city of Antioch. They did not speak a word, so they were instructed. “Bring him after confirming his identity without speaking to him a word”. They leave the migrants on their way, as they have no orders for them.

Through the mountain range in the north, it made its way quickly to the Harbiye, which is predominantly Alawite, where the Turkish police checkpoint is, they search cars for illegal immigrants. The car did not stop, continued towards the city, and after a few kilometers, it turned right and into the back parking lot of the mall (Prime Mall), empty with no cars at this time in the morning except for a black Mercedes-Benz with all the windows covered in black.

The man in the front seat turned towards him, go ahead, and pointed his hand towards the car. Sheikh Ruslan got out of the border guards’ car. A muscular man got off the front seat of the Mercedes, opened the back door for him, and sped away, taking the road to the Hatay Airport, which is about 20 km away.

In the back seat, Ruslan was stunned, not yet able to comprehend the impact of the shock!

-A man sitting next to him told him, in Arabic: هل تذكرتني يا أخي؟

(Do you remember me, brother?)

-Is this really you? Baibars! No way!

-He smiled staidly: Yes, my brother. The professional intelligence man is the last person you think works for them

-You are Ozcan?

-Yes, you can call me by my name that you know, Baibars.

-but how! You……

interrupted with a quick movement of his hand, winking at him, then immediately Ruslan understood that the driver and bodyguard are not authorized to know everything.

He added: God have mercy on Raman, I wish he was with us right now.

Ozcan is a Turkish name, means Secret of Spirit, not his real name, as he is Baibars, no one knows his name or even his native country! He’s definitely not a Turk. He doesn’t speak Turkish! His entire file is reserved for a few high-ranking people, no one else knows his secret, his truth, his country, or how he managed to gain so much credibility in Turkey! He must have done something really great to get so much attention.

A 40-year-old man, tall, white, moderate in body, brown eyes, a light beard, bald head, highly focused, meticulous in detail, a little-laughing person despite having an exceptional sense of humor.

He was in Syria as a rebel for many years. Baibars fought many battles in the Syria, and in 2015 Ruslan met on one of his visits to old friends from Ansar al-Iraq, from where their relationship started, lasting only a few months, with which they exchanged many ideas about functional groups.

Baibars is considered the black box for all these secrets. He was present in many countries with the most dangerous functional groups in the world, and he was always affiliated with them, working in their ranks. He has many acquaintances, is familiar with many of its secrets, and is a very mysterious man. Suddenly he disappeared from northern Syria, no one knows any trace of him, and all means of communication with him were cut off.

A few months ago, Ozcan contacted him, following what he had published on social media about the danger of the functional regulations. He introduced himself to him as a journalist who would like to make an interview with him.

Ruslan did not accept to meet him, but their online relationship continued, Ozcan provided him with many ideas and more facts to talk about, one of the most influential, and soon Ruslan started to understand, not really a journalist!

A few weeks ago, he urged him to leave Syria, he and Raman, as the functional groups asked for their heads, alerted him of their plans to assassinate them, they survived thanks to his protection, but they refused his offer of a safe exit to Turkey.

After Raman’s burial, he contacted him on the phone for the first time. He spoke to him in a serious tone. God rest your friend, get out, now! He gave him the phone number of a young Syrian man working in smuggling illegal immigrants between Syria and Turkey, “contact him and follow his instructions”.

On the highway, the car did not veer toward the exit leading to the airport and continued into the mountains of Alexandretta (İskenderun), a mountain range stretching along with the entire province of Hatay with its capital Antioch, the geographic barrier separating Turkey from Syria, which until 1926 belonged to the province of Aleppo within Ottoman Syria. In 1938, France, as the occupying Mandate of Syria, granted the territory autonomy, and in 1939 it was withdrawn by Turkish forces to become part of the modern state of Turkey. Her parents still speak Arabic as their mother tongue, and the majority of them are members of the Alawite sect, from which Bashar al-Assad descended in Syria.

He looked out the window, lost his mind for a moment, and said: “I always remember my first day, I will never forget it. I came by bus from Istanbul, after a 16-hour journey, I entered Antakya through these mountains”.

-Ruslan: Are we going to Istanbul?

-Ozcan with a disapproving look: Of course not.

He looked behind him a little to the right, we just missed the airport exit! He added, “You don’t have any identification papers, do you?”

– Ruslan: Yes, not even the Iraqi.

-Ozcan: We are now going to the city of Adana, only 3 hours away, there are breaks on the road We will rest a little, have a cup of coffee, and have a quick meal, I know you are tired after a tiring night, we better finish it quickly, you will be registering for Turkish temporary protection identity papers as Syrian Turkmen refugees, you cannot move around free unless you have papers, and you can’t get on a plane without them.

-He nodded at the guard in the front seat: Our friend here will make sure that all the procedures are finished today, do you think time will be enough?

-The guard looked at him, and he replied in broken Arabic, the papers are already done, they are waiting for us for fingerprint procedures, it won’t take five minutes.

-Ozcan: Is the fingerprint necessary? could we get past it?

– The guard: We could, but he could have had any accidental emergency anywhere in Turkey, and the police wanted to check his identity with his fingerprint, you know, they would know it wasn’t him!

Then he added, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head: Then he should call us to solve the problem

– Ozcan interrupted, laughing loudly: No, definitely not this one.

Looked at Ruslan: This is the first lesson you have to learn in Turkey. Here there are multiple state agencies, and each one has its powers, and it is not simply going to offer you its services, it is not like in the Arab world, it is not by a phone from an intelligence officer or official who can do whatever he wants anywhere. Now we are going to Adana and we did not finish these papers in Hatay because our friend here has a man there who is to be trusted, who has been asked to serve him personally, as you are close to his Turkmen mother, the last thing any intelligence service wants is to be seen in the face.

He looked out the window, strayed a little: We are the sons of the shadows, in which we were born and in which we die.

-Ruslan seemed more relaxed: Why are you doing this to me?! what do you want? I don’t think you need any information; you know a lot more of course!

-He looked at him with a deep look, a moment of silence, and said: Are you still looking for Eid, brother?

-He looked out the window, he remembered Raman, and those hills, Eid morning, feeling the farewell poem in his pocket: Yes, and I do not think I will ever find it.

-He replied: Do not give up, your Eid has always been before your eyes, but you, brother, have been looking in the wrong direction!

– In the wrong direction! What do you mean?

– Have you ever read a story that jumps into the past, present, and future, breaking the traditional view of time as a straight line or as waves flowing from the past into the future, or as a one-way river? Time is like this, Ruslan, not a river, nor waves, nor a straight line.