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   On the 22nd of July, the cell opened and the guard told me that I was going "home". I had the time to put two or three notebooks into a plastic bag and follow him down the stone corridor. At the exit, two policemen in plainclothes awaited with their car and during the voyage to the airport refused to answer a single question I asked. All of my protestations fell on deaf ears. I was embarked by force onto the jet bound for Turkey with my handcuffs removed at the last minute before take-off. A file destined for Turkish authorities was given to the flight officer . It was the second day of Ramadan, the most important religious holiday for Moslems, the equivalent of Christmas. It was the first time I'd ever taken an airplane.
    The terminal at Istanbul was filled with people coming home from foreign lands to see their loved ones. Everyone was waiting for someone, even the authorities had the holiday on their mind and made passage through customs easier than usual, even in my difficult case. I arrived alone in the midst of this enormous crowd with no one to greet me, without a penny in my pocket, with no presents to give, the totality of my possessions being a plastic bag with a few notebooks inside. After having received the file from the flight officer, the Turkish authorities questioned me in a facility in the airport, sent faxes all over, to the Austrian consulate, to Tatvan, to Hirit, the government anti-terrorist group…Either my case didn't seem important or they were in a hurry to spend the holidays with their families, in any case they let me go in no time. I called my wife to tell her where I was.
     I think at that moment I would have preferred to return home in a casket.
It was the most humiliating and desperate moment in my life. On top of the awkwardness of it all, my total disorientation and despair, my wife dryly informed me of my father's death !. The telegramme sent by Murat was meant to spare my emotions. My father probably died as Hausner quibbled over the 10,000. shillings!

Despite exhaustive efforts, I was unable to contact Robert. Once he'd gotten out of prison, I hadn't heard a word from him. Friends had confirmed the fact that he'd gathered together all the pictures that were spread around Vienna and my personal belongings, including my passport. If I didn't succeed in finding him, years of work would disappear forever!.