Electra’s dictionary; Kingpins Noir; meeting up with Willem


The part of the penthouse that holds most of Ethan Rhys-Jones’ artifacts and historical documents faces west, and thus by early evening the twilight lends a noir tone.

Since Ilya has been seeing to the historical authenticity, she kept to the style he had arranged the room; the pictures on the walls, the Art Deco bar, the draperies and the select bottles of liquor hold accurately true to how it was during Ethan’s lifetime and during his occupation of the dwelling

It is situated on the other side of the kitchens that lays center and central to the penthouse for the convenience of the functioning of entertaining the household needs as well as for both business and casual guests; and opposite to the bedrooms which are situated east and somewhat out of the way which is why it is convenient to set this area apart or as the historical museum that Joanie and Johnny have encouraged us to open to the public by appointment

The restoration only required the careful preservation of the leather seating and the polishing of the wood paneling and furniture. Most everything else had been already well preserved

I only ever went in there a few times. I saved those moments for when I most wanted to feel his presence and limited myself these visits in order to allow it to hold its sacredness for me

Certainly I’d never sat at the massive cherry-wood desk where upon entering the room I now find Jörn is comfortably seated and looking like he has assumed full possession of. As I have said, the power that my biological father once held politically in his life was something of the ‘Gotham’ quality as his influence often tugged on characters of the social underworld of his society

The word “kingpin” always comes to mind in connection to my biological father but the kind that defends the underdogs; in the underworld that the chess pieces move around; a bad cat for the little people by a big cat with an iron fist and a voice that bellowed and bounced like an organ echoing in a medieval cathedral drawing the crowd into his fold

And now looking at Jörn assuming his seat behind that massive desk that word rings true again and then it only now occurs to me that there are similarities between the men besides the physical stature and commanding broad shoulders

“There is someone here to see you who has come a long way and has been waiting patiently,” Jörn says now

And out of the shadows of one corner of the room I see the big, tall Dutchman from an evening long forgotten from my past

“Wassenaar,” now somewhat stooped and with faded and less hair the sunk jowls emphasis the characteristics Dutch features of a knotty nose and ironic half grin along with the accent pronounced firmly in one word. I am transferred back through time

I take a moment to arrive presently in time, straight-jacketed and seatbelted I hold firm to adjust the monocles of what is left of my sensibilities

My mouth goes dry and so I cough

“What was the name of that hangout your American friends liked to frequent?” he turns his head to one side as he studies me

“The Dugout,” I say and then it comes clearly again

“Rum and coke!” he says loudly smirking at me

It makes me laugh because I’d quite forgotten I used to drink that.

We had sat at the bar when I went up to get one to bring back to the table where my friends sat when he intercepted my intentions with his paying for it in exchange for his conversation. Yes, how well I do recall that day. He’d taken out his wallet to pay and then pulled out his business card

“Back then I used to pose as a journalist as my cover,” he reminds me

It is now that he turns and makes a grand show of taking ice from a bucket with tongs, pours rum from a handy bottle and then coke from another

He hands it to me as I cough again

“To old memories and old friends,” he says and reaches for a glass with an amber liquor to clink with the one he handed me

Switching gears from the place I’d left my mind on the tile of the bathroom floor, changed quickly into the houndstooth sheath that still lay across my bedroom chair when Jörn pulled me, then pushed me to change both clothing and state of mind

I take the cue to follow his lead and imbibe in the vice at hand

I go to the burgundy leather chair on the left that faces the desk where Jörn presides