S. Adda was forty years old and looked like a mouse: a pointed nose, a receding forehead, and an equally receding chin. He was also an alcoholic. He was not one of those people who drank a glass of wine every night to keep him healthy. S was one of those people whose hands shook before he had even had his first drink in the morning and whose day was over long before most people had to go to work. Although he preferred to drink beer, he rarely had the money for anything other than the cheapest wine, which he consumed by the liter. When he did have money, he preferred Russian vodka. He didn't like to say where he got his money, but he didn't need much except drugs and rent, and he had a special talent: to make himself invisible. As a result, he learned a lot about other people. When he drank, he was neither loud nor argumentative, and his normal facial expression made him seem much drunker than he was. and so people blurted out things in his presence that they should have kept to themselves. S earned some money by taking tips from police officers and President Assad's men. but not everyone. He only chose those who kept his secret and did not force him to testify. He knew that criminals were quite vindictive, and he was not stupid enough to believe that those who reported them would simply let it go. In his early 20s, S. had served a sentence for petty theft, and in his 30s, twice for possession of marijuana. His third prison sentence was the turning point. S. was completely dependent on alcohol, and in the first week he showed terrible withdrawal symptoms. He was shaking, vomiting, and when he closed his eyes he saw monsters. He nearly died, but for other reasons. After listening to S.'s screams and moans for several days, his cellmate beat him until he was unconscious so that he could sleep again. S. spent three weeks in the infirmary, and was lucky to find a lenient judge who took pity on him for what he had been through. Instead of serving the remaining year of his sentence, he was released on probation and had to report regularly. However, he was warned that his sentence would be finalized again if he used alcohol or drugs. The idea of going to rehab again and the memory of the beatings he received left a terrible fear of prison. But he could not manage to look at life soberly. At first, he was cautious and only drank at home. However, over time, he began to feel uncomfortable with the restriction of his freedom. He met with friends who were drinking and tried not to attract attention. However, over time, this situation began to bother him. Over time, he became more and more impudent. He drank the bottle, which he hid in a traditional paper bag, on the road. Soon, he turned purple and his brain went out. and it sent such small warning signals that he no longer noticed them. His mother borrowed it, he didn't have a driver's license, but he still went to a dirty bar outside the city. There, he drank with his friends until midnight and then staggered back to his car. The man, who barely managed to get out of the parking lot without hitting other cars, somehow managed to find his way home. A few kilometers later, he noticed a flashing red light behind him. M. got out of the police car. Are you S? M. shouted as he slowly approached. Like most deputies, he addressed S. by name. But he had a flashlight in his hand and was shining it into the car. Hello deputy, have you been drinking? NO. Not at all. I've been visiting some friends. Are you sure? Not even a beer? No sir. Maybe a glass of wine with dinner. No sir, I don't know. You were zigzagging down the street. I'm just tired. S. put his hand over his mouth as if he had to emphasize his words. I need to look at your driver's license. I don't have it with me right now. Please get out of the car. for what reason? S. woke up the next morning shaking and unable to remember anything. The only thing that was certain was that he was behind bars, and that immediately gave him a paralyzing sense of fear. Slowly, the memory of parts of the evening began to take shape. He had gone to a bar and had a drink with his friends... but after that everything was more or less in a fog, until the lights flashed behind him. He also discovered in a corner of his mind that M. had put him in prison. But S. had more important things to do than think about the previous evening. He concentrated mainly on how to avoid further imprisonment. Just the thought of it made beads of sweat form on his forehead and upper lip. he could not go back to prison. Under no circumstances. He would die. He knew that for sure. but he would still remain in the hole. Fear emptied his mind even more, and for a while he could think of nothing but what awaited him. prison. beating. nightmares. trembling and nausea. death He got up hesitantly from the bed and leaned against the wall. He moved towards the bars and looked down the corridor. The other three cells were full, but no one knew if the Deputy Chief was there. Two men told him to be quiet, the third did not answer at all. This is what your life will be like for the next two years.
He was not so naive as to assume that he would be acquitted, and he had no illusions that the public defender would help him. He had no chance. He would be held in custody until his case was heard, and the key to his cell would be thrown away after the verdict was announced. S. wiped himself off. He put his hand to his forehead and knew he had to do something. His mind began to work in a chaotic and creaky way, but then it began to work faster and faster. His only hope was that the only thing that would help him was to turn back time and undo the previous night's arrest. How would he do that? Use your knowledge, replied a small voice in his mind. M. had just gotten out of the shower and had said his morning prayers when the phone rang. He had made breakfast for his son earlier and sent him off to school, but instead of tidying up afterwards, he had gone back to bed and hoped to get a few hours of sleep. He had not fallen asleep, but he had at least taken a nap. He had to work from 12 to 8 that day, and he was hoping to have a comfortable evening. His son wanted to go to the cinema with M., and A. had also announced his arrival. The call changed everything. M. took a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He picked up the receiver just before the answering machine started. C. was on the other end. After a few introductory words, he got to the point. You'd better come here right away, he said. Why? What's the matter? You arrested S. Adda last night, didn't you? Yes, that's right. I couldn't find any report. Oh, that's it. I got another call and had to leave right away. I wanted to go to the office early anyway and sort it out. Be careful. Are there any problems? I don't know that yet. How long will it take you to get here? M. was surprised by C.'s tone of voice. I just got out of the shower. In half an hour, okay? Come straight to me when you get there. I'll be waiting. Can't you at least tell me what the rush is? There was silence on the other end. Wake up as soon as possible. We'll talk later. So why? M. asked. C. had pulled him into his office and quickly closed the door. Tell me about last night, he said. From the beginning. It was just after midnight and I parked on the side of the road near the mosque. I didn't have anything special to do. Everything was quiet and I knew the shop would be closing soon. A little after 2 a.m. I saw someone coming out of the bar and just followed the car on a whim. Luckily the car was doing some crazy maneuvers. So I stopped to check the driver's alcohol level. That man was S. Adda. I could smell his breath through the side window. When I told him to get out he fell to the ground. He wasn't responding anymore, so I put him in the backseat and brought him here. He had come to his senses now, there was no need to carry him, but I couldn't do it without his support. I wanted to finish the paperwork right away, but then I got a call and had to leave immediately. I just got back from my shift and since I'm covering for T today, I wanted to write the report before my shift. C. didn't say anything, but he didn't take his eyes off M. Is there anything else? NO. Did he hurt himself? As I said, I didn't touch him, he fell. He was drunk. Completely drunk. No, that's not the point. And then? Let me get something straight: Didn't he say anything to you last night? M. thought for a moment. Actually, no. He knew me and called me by my name. M. wondered anxiously if this was really everything. Did he act strangely? It didn't seem that way to me... there was just something strange, you know? C. muttered, lost in thought again. Now tell me what happened? He says he wants to talk to you M. knows this isn't everything He says he's just with you. And? He doesn't want to tell me. But he says it's a matter of life and death. M looked at S through the bars and thought the man looked like the walking dead. Like many alcoholics, his skin was a sickly yellow. His hands were shaking and beads of sweat were running down his forehead. S. had been sitting on the bunk for hours, scratching his arms. M noticed the red, partly bloody blisters that looked like a child had painted them with lipstick. M. pulled up a chair and sat down in front of the cell, resting his elbows on his knees. Do you want to talk to me? S raised his head when he heard his voice. He hadn't noticed M's arrival and needed some time to clear his mind. He wiped his upper lip and nodded. what did you say? you made my boss very nervous. you have information to give me. why did they put me in jail last night? I didn't do anything to anyone, you were drunk. and you were driving. that's a crime. so why can't I be heard? M wondered what S. meant by all this. "I haven't had time yet," he answered honestly. But according to the laws of this state, it doesn't matter whether I wrote the report last night or today. and if that's what you want to talk to me about, then I have better things to do. M. rose to his feet with a flourish and turned away. Wait. he paused and turned back again. YES? I have something important to tell you. I told C. that this is a matter of life and death.
You said you were S.
ran his hand over his lips. I can't go back to prison. I have protection.