Beretta, and opened the door. It was, indeed, thecops. Four of them. They faced me in a half-circle. One of them saluted casually and asked, “You’re Kemal Kayankaya?”
“As it says on the door.”
“Come with us.”
I stuck the gun in the pocket of my robe and told him what time it was.
“I have a warrant to place you under temporary arrest,” he rumbled, and showed me a piece of paper. “If you resist, I have to put the cuffs on you.”
The fingers of the three others hovered nervously above their pistols. I surrendered, and half an hour later we were at the precinct.
The cell was no more than three square meters, with a light green plastic toilet in a corner. The walls were covered with obscene graffiti. Above me to the right a small ventilation fan whirred. There were no windows. It was a little after seven by my watch. Outside, the sun must have risen.
I lay on a narrow cot, humming popular tunes to myself. They had turned the lights on half an hour ago—bright lights, which penetrated closed eyelids. A cop had brought me a jug of tap water and told me that the superintendent was still busy. The light became unbearable, and I pulled the gray blanket over my head. My cigarettes were in my overcoat, and the cop who from time to time stuck his head through the door refused to get me any. When one of the clowns pulled me out of the squad car, my arm had started bleeding again. I turned to the wall and tried to sleep, but with no success. I could feel the throbbing of the wound in my brain. So I got up and walked two steps forward and two steps back, back and forth, back and forth.Then I started kicking the toilet at one end and banging the peephole window at the other. Less than two minutes later a head appeared.
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to stop smoking.”
“Come again?”
“You see a cigarette anywhere?”
He closed the hatch. I heard him say, “Willi, the Turk is freaking out.” I stepped up on the toilet seat and held the blanket up to the ventilation fan. Instantly the stiff fabric jammed the blades. I banged the window again. “What’s the matter now?”
I pointed at the fan. “I’m suffocating.”
He pushed past me and saw the blanket. “Listen here, you asshole, there’s a bunch of buddies back there who aren’t feeling so good because it’s been a fucking long night, and they’d like nothing better than to work you over! So shut up and lie down, you won’t regret it.”
“I want to call my lawyer.”
He gave me a pitying look. Then he roared, “You don’t understand what I’m saying! You don’t even know what a lawyer is, for God’s sake, you goddamn camel driver!”
I grabbed his green uniform collar and pushed him up against the wall. “Now it’s your turn to listen to me. I got out of the hospital at two o’clock this morning, and three hours later you guys pull me out of bed, rip the stitches out of my arm, and throw me in a cell that would make any normal person sick! I want to call my lawyer!”
I let him go and sat down on the cot. He took a deep breath. “Very well, dago. I’ll tell the superintendent thatyou’re ready for questioning.” He checked the time. “We’ll save the raiding party for another time. I’m off duty.”
I growled something about how I didn’t give a shit, I’d fight all the fucking cops, let them just come by, including the superintendent. He was gone. I ripped the blanket out of the fan and it started whirring again. Then I heard footsteps, and the door opened. Two of them came in, handcuffed me, and took me out of the cell without a word. Our footsteps echoed in the long hallway. They stopped by a wooden bench and told me to sit down. After an eternity of ten minutes, they pulled me to the door facing the bench and into an office.
Behind the desk sat a nice little man with big ears. He looked at me as if he were in the market for a nice red balloon. I was planted in a chair facing him. The two
“As it says on the door.”
“Come with us.”
I stuck the gun in the pocket of my robe and told him what time it was.
“I have a warrant to place you under temporary arrest,” he rumbled, and showed me a piece of paper. “If you resist, I have to put the cuffs on you.”
The fingers of the three others hovered nervously above their pistols. I surrendered, and half an hour later we were at the precinct.
The cell was no more than three square meters, with a light green plastic toilet in a corner. The walls were covered with obscene graffiti. Above me to the right a small ventilation fan whirred. There were no windows. It was a little after seven by my watch. Outside, the sun must have risen.
I lay on a narrow cot, humming popular tunes to myself. They had turned the lights on half an hour ago—bright lights, which penetrated closed eyelids. A cop had brought me a jug of tap water and told me that the superintendent was still busy. The light became unbearable, and I pulled the gray blanket over my head. My cigarettes were in my overcoat, and the cop who from time to time stuck his head through the door refused to get me any. When one of the clowns pulled me out of the squad car, my arm had started bleeding again. I turned to the wall and tried to sleep, but with no success. I could feel the throbbing of the wound in my brain. So I got up and walked two steps forward and two steps back, back and forth, back and forth.Then I started kicking the toilet at one end and banging the peephole window at the other. Less than two minutes later a head appeared.
“What are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to stop smoking.”
“Come again?”
“You see a cigarette anywhere?”
He closed the hatch. I heard him say, “Willi, the Turk is freaking out.” I stepped up on the toilet seat and held the blanket up to the ventilation fan. Instantly the stiff fabric jammed the blades. I banged the window again. “What’s the matter now?”
I pointed at the fan. “I’m suffocating.”
He pushed past me and saw the blanket. “Listen here, you asshole, there’s a bunch of buddies back there who aren’t feeling so good because it’s been a fucking long night, and they’d like nothing better than to work you over! So shut up and lie down, you won’t regret it.”
“I want to call my lawyer.”
He gave me a pitying look. Then he roared, “You don’t understand what I’m saying! You don’t even know what a lawyer is, for God’s sake, you goddamn camel driver!”
I grabbed his green uniform collar and pushed him up against the wall. “Now it’s your turn to listen to me. I got out of the hospital at two o’clock this morning, and three hours later you guys pull me out of bed, rip the stitches out of my arm, and throw me in a cell that would make any normal person sick! I want to call my lawyer!”
I let him go and sat down on the cot. He took a deep breath. “Very well, dago. I’ll tell the superintendent thatyou’re ready for questioning.” He checked the time. “We’ll save the raiding party for another time. I’m off duty.”
I growled something about how I didn’t give a shit, I’d fight all the fucking cops, let them just come by, including the superintendent. He was gone. I ripped the blanket out of the fan and it started whirring again. Then I heard footsteps, and the door opened. Two of them came in, handcuffed me, and took me out of the cell without a word. Our footsteps echoed in the long hallway. They stopped by a wooden bench and told me to sit down. After an eternity of ten minutes, they pulled me to the door facing the bench and into an office.
Behind the desk sat a nice little man with big ears. He looked at me as if he were in the market for a nice red balloon. I was planted in a chair facing him. The two
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