DarkMarket_ Cyberthieves, Cybercops and You - Misha Glenny [106]
The thugs finally went to sleep, except that one was always awake to ensure that whenever Mert nodded off, they could rouse him with a shower of kicks and punches.
At midday on Monday, Sahin called, and Çagatay placed him on speaker phone. By this time Mert’s will had been broken. He assumed he was going to be killed. He was not surprised when Sahin told him to repeat everything he had already said. It was all filmed. At the end, Sahin spoke. ‘Okay, now is the time for your punishment,’ he said without irony, ‘I want you to do everything that Çagatay tells you to do and I will judge the outcome.’
Çagatay told Mert to stand up and strip. Fearing that he was about to be gang-raped, Mert finally snapped. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, just put a bullet through my head,’ he pleaded. ‘What the hell do you think you are doing with me?’
‘Shut up,’ Çagatay retorted. ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re not a bunch of shirt-lifters. Keep your boxers on and accept your punishment!’ On the phone to Sahin, Çagatay now scrawled the infamous piece of paper that branded Kier or Mert Ortaç a traitor and a snitch. This is how the myth of Kier was established. The journalist from Haber 7 had found Mert’s name on a website alongside the nickname ‘Kier’. In fact, Mert had never, and would never, use this name – his real nick was SLayraCkEr. But after Çagatay took the photograph, journalists, police and carders around the world would refer to Mert Ortaç as Kier, even though he had never been called that in his life.
After the photo session, Mert was thrown down onto the floor again and the blanket was tossed over him. ‘Stay here for half an hour and then you can leave,’ Çagatay said. ‘We are leaving you your clothes and we won’t touch your money. You can also have one ID. From now on – for the rest of your life – don’t even think of writing the name Cha0, because if you do, I’ll have my hands round your neck before you take another breath.’ Finally Çagatay could not resist adding a personal note, ‘If it had been up to me, I would have killed you here and now. But the man likes you. Be grateful and keep your mouth shut.’ (Çagatay himself considered any idea that he might want to murder someone like Mert – a little squit in his eyes – laughable.)
Half an hour later the battered Mert Ortaç, with just fifty dollars in his pocket, stumbled out of the apartment and headed for the national bus station, from where he caught a ride to the town of Izmir. Here he would lick his wounds and wonder what on earth he should do next. It was obvious: he would go underground. Mert disappeared for the last time – until he was arrested many months later while applying for a passport under a different name in November 2008.
Further strange tales inhabit Mert’s dream world – neither reality nor fantasy – but, for our purposes, this is where it ends.
34
TURKEY SHOOT
Before Mert was finally arrested, Inspector Bilal Sen had no idea whether the hacker was on the run, still a prisoner or simply dead. He did know, however, that time was not on his side. The only option open to the officer was to continue to track down Cha0 as efficiently and patiently as possible. At least he now had a photograph and a number for the man sending the skimmer, and he was convinced that this would eventually lead him to Cha0. Because the henchman who had delivered the skimmer was using one of the phone numbers that he had registered with the shipping company, the police were able to ‘triangulate’ the suspect – in other words, they could spot which cellphone masts the device was accessing. They soon had an accurate idea both of where he was and of the pattern of his movements.
Before long they had a second sighting and were able to put a tail on him. Sure enough, within a matter of days the man had led them to a villa in Tuzla, a distant suburb of Istanbul that lay about fifteen