He buried his feet one by one into the black shoes in front of him. Then he pulled out the letter he’d kept hidden beneath the spring mattress. He opened his jacket and slipped the letter in next to his telephone. He took four steps and looked at his reflection in the mirror above the cell’s sink. He was forty years old but he felt stronger than ever. He put up his fists and posed like a professional boxer. He smiled, looking at OĞUZ and ATAY. Then his smile dissipated and he waited without lowering his fists. Like the statue of a professional boxer. Like a boxer who would wait in the center of the ring all alone for the chance to knock out all his opponents the world over. Like he was going to smash the wall behind the mirror, and the walls would fall and the prison would be destroyed.
He didn’t break his pose until he heard the cell’s door being opened. He had to hear, “Come on, Derda, you’re out.”
He was taken to the prison gate by two wardens, passing through the corridors going to the place he’d been taken from, the place he’d be delivered unto once more. The wardens stopped and looked at Derda. One of them said, “It’s all behind you now.”
Derda smiled.
“And it won’t happen again. It all starts now.”
They shook hands and Derda turned to the door and took his last breath as a prisoner.
The gate was four meters high and weighed tons. It started to slide to the right like a magical wall. As it slid open, life slipped inside. The sunshine. Derda walked toward the light and when it had opened wide enough for his two shoulders to pass through, he stepped through the gate.
It was the first step in the journey of his life. At his second step, his way was blocked. By a man in a suit.
“Are you Derda Bey?”
Derda didn’t answer. He used his hand as a shield against the sunlight that dazzled his eyes and he tried to make out the man’s face. The man spoke again.
“If you could spare me a bit of your time, I’d most appreciate it.”
Derda grabbed the man’s wrist as the man slid his hand into his jacket. He didn’t know what that hand was going to come back out with. The man said, “I was just going to give you my card.” Derda loosened his fingers and as he took the card stretched out toward him, he heard: “Sefer Baylan, attorney at law. I have a client who would most like to meet with you.”
Derda handed the card with the same name that he’d just heard back to the man.
“Please, keep it.”
Derda didn’t know what to do with the card so he let it drop to the ground. He wasn’t accustomed to being given business cards. The attorney smiled as if he hadn’t seen it.
“Derda Bey, my car is just there. If you could come with me, I’d most appreciate it. And it really won’t last too long.”
Derda was prepared to take any necessary action to remove obstacles on his journey to his darling. Ready to fight, to injure, even to kill. But he hadn’t been expecting an attorney. And he especially didn’t expect one to come up to him and make him an offer. He didn’t know what to say, and anyway, he never was any good at talking. He only knew he had to set off on a journey.
“I have to go,” he said. “There’s some place I have to go.”
“Please,” said the attorney, “first let me introduce you to my client, then I will bring you anywhere you need to go.”
Derda didn’t want to listen anymore. He took two steps away and let the sun fall on his face. Then he heard the sentence that changed everything.
“Derda Bey, look, it’s a matter related to Oğuz Atay and it’s very important.”
Derda pivoted around and faced the man.
“Where’s your car?”
The attorney was so pleased that he’d been able to pull off this most difficult part of the task he’d been burdened with that he smiled with all his heart.
“Yes, please, right this way.”
The car wove through the streets where once upon a time Derda had raced down the sidewalks. When they passed under the overpass where the clock seller had arrested him, he asked, “So who is this who wants to talk to me?”
“It would be best if my client explains, Derda Bey.”
“How did you know what day I was going to be released?”
“We’ve been following your case, sir. And let me say, that we were most pleased with your release on parole.”
“Why?”
Like anyone who doesn’t know what to say, the attorney changed the subject.
“Once we get out of this traffic here, the rest will be easy.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s not much left, Derda Bey. Please forgive me, but I forgot to ask you. Do you smoke?”
The driver was an accomplished defense attorney. He was young and didn’t have very much experience, but he was prepared for any kind of self-sacrifice in the defense of a client. Just so he wouldn’t have to say any more than was necessary, and to answer Derda’s question before he could himself, he lit a cigarette. Sacrificing his car that had never been exposed to smoke before.
Derda lit the cigarette the attorney
