Midnight Express Page #12

ERICH (OVER)

Killed a guy. But his father's a

big gangster on the docks. A

"Kapidiye." He'll stay in... twelve

months no more, and get parole. In

Turkey, murder is manly - "erkek".

ERICH Glances back at BILLY

ERICH:

You just got to get yourself a

good lawyer. And some money...

Talk to Max. He's been in the

longest.

BILLY:

How long?

ERICH:

Seven years...

CUT:

MAX - "Eskilet" (skeleton). British, tall, straggly long

hair with wire spectacles set crookedly over his nose. An

earing in one ear. The far away eyes of an international

junkie, preoccupied and uninterested in small talk. Tough

in his skinny way, like apiece of old dried leather.

He occupies with his YOUNG STRIPED CAT a bunk in the far

corner of the SECOND FLOOR KOGUS - in the process of

shooting himself up with "Gastro" a smelly brown liquid

stomach medicine. No one is in the vicinity except

ANOTHER ANGLE:

ERICH and BILLY who watches repelled as MAX fumbles with a

piece of twine tied around his arm in a tourniquet,

searching for an unused spot amid dirty infected track

marks. PLUNGES the needle in, pumping in the black gunk.

Glances at BILLY.

MAX:

(smiles)

Gastro. Stomach medicine. Has

codeine in it... Best can do

Pulls out the needle, loosens the tourniquet. His eyes

take on a far away stare.

ERICH:

Lawyers?

MAX:

Yeah... there's no straight lawyers

in Turkey... They're all bent bent

as hairpins...

Gives a spoon with a taste of the black residue to:

HIS CAT who is full of spunk, and tries to catch Max's

HAND.

He looks at BILLY, not remembering him.

ERICH:

His name?

MAX:

Who?

ERICH:

The lawyer?

MAX is beginning to go. He sits on his bunk.

MAX:

What lawyer?

ERICH:

Who got the Frenchman out?

MAX:

Oh Yesil... Yesil's his name but

I...don't know anything...

'bout...Yesil...

ANOTHER ANGLE - MAX'S head begins to bob back and

forth.Focuses on BILLY.

MAX:

Best way is get your ass out...

any... way... you can...

BILLY:

What do you mean?

MAX:

Get the... midnight... express.

BILLY:

What's that?

MAX smiles from faraway like a Cheshire cat and his head

drops forward onto his knees, nodding off.

CUT:

HAMIDOU, swinging his falaka stick rhythmically against

his leg and that calm killer look on his face, leads an

uneasy BILLY down a MAIN WALKWAY with a roof overhead; we

gather that the prison contains several separate wings.

ADMINISTRATIVE BUILDING - HAMIDOU glances back at BILLY,

indicates with his stick "come here" and opens an office

door.

BILLY, still bewildered, his bruised feet almost back to

normal, limps in warily eyeing HAMIDOU who follows.

NECDIT YESIL, the lawyer, fleshy, grinning, thin black

hair heavily greased, sits at a conference table. Standing

adjacent is STANLEY DAVIS, the U.S. Consul - eyeglasses,

striped tie, neat summer suit with stripes, trimmed hair,

ivy league look, his eyes moving from Billy to:

OLDER MAN, late 50's white hair, blue-eyed New York

Irishman.A suburban insurance agent, rumpled suit, an

anxious look on his face. Moving towards BILLY fast:

FATHER:

Billy!

FATHER AND SON embrace; the father's left hand grabbing

Billy's arm tightly as if never to let go.

BILLY:

Dad!

HAMIDOU looks on, intrigued by the Father and Son; leaves

silently, closing the door.

FATHER looks into his son's eyes, his own eyes moistening.

He looks tired, pain all over his face.

BILLY looks down.

BILLY:

Dad...I'm...

ANOTHER ANGLE:

FATHER:

(voice quivering)

...Don't worry about it.

(managing a smile)

I can punch you in the nose later.

Right now we've got to get you out

of here. You all right?

BILLY:

(eyes moistening)

Yeah. How's Mom?

FATHER:

Bad. She couldn't make the trip.

You know Her boy...

(breaks off)

Susan told us before we got your

letter. She's fine; she's trying

to get the money to come back and

see you, but...

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