Electra’s dictionary; ‘Part 2 Film Noir ‘Drama at Lincoln Center’ (jm muse chronicles)





The concert was delayed twenty minutes and excuses made

and covers have to —it seems—remain  

they called it robbery which Jörn claimed to be an eye witness as a cover to explain why he ran after him and with the stir of another new conductor upset among ticket holders, keeping the status quo seems more important than calling attention to what really happened

they told everyone there and the news station that the person was taken to police custody after statements were hastily taken

but as I sat there still stunned on the floor after, I felt like I was still watching Jörn; like a trapeze artist, fly off the gallery and then do an Olympic sprint through the lobby after the mystery man

And for awhile I just sat there somewhat stunned thinking

So why should danger bring me to think about another image from another scene of danger and of running and ..... a pirate and a boat....?

unfinished business .....

as I let Frank pull me up from the floor



It does not register with me at first ....


  ....no, not at first

as it all happens so fast that it feels

events pull you in under its current and makes you part of its drama

At first I watch from the floor as Frank runs back over to me and helps me up

but I hear someone call to me and am surprised to hear such a familiar voice say in its familiar Dutch accent,

“Zo—are you da show stopper of da evening, da dawn ov legend?”

I turn,
“Wow, twice within six months—“

“Seven,” he corrects raising a silver brow at me and as far away as he is tall seems to shrink the surroundings as he shortens the distance between us with an ironic smirk

“Hello, Willem,” I say and notice he is much more neatly attired than last time

“I am to be your escort tonight,” and with exaggeration he offers me his arm

So, no, among other things, it does not register with me at first either about the six giant men who came from six different  directions from behind me as I stood up and ....as I watch Jörn jog back over

 —not even that most of the six were blond and the ones who were not, one had a shaved head and the other indistinct, which would tell me nothing except to leave me with more reasons to question —who is Jörn really connected with .... ?


Jörn comes over,
“are you all right?” he asks me with concern

“Who was that?” I ask him

But I see Jörn and Willem exchange glances, but then Jörn glances at Frank and then back to me and shrugs at me as he says,
“some guys who went to grab a woman’s phone—“ but now his eyes look at me dead-on to say something else to me and he says with just his mouth to me ‘later’  and raises pale brows

Jörn waits for Frank to leave before he goes on to say now,

“Ok, from this point on....” and Jörn looks from me to everyone else standing near by, “I’m not going to let these guys lose sight of you,” Jörn motions to the six big heavies with a kind of snap of his fingers as he says something in rapid fire Swedish that is beyond my current level of comprehension

“Body guards?” I get a chill that makes me queasy

He shrugs,
“we can’t let it leak to the press that anything —uh—political.... is going on—so, the show must go on. I will have you escorted to your seat and Willem will soon join you  —I’ll see you after the concert, duva,” and without warning presses his mouth across my lips, “you’ll wait with Willem,” he tells me

And of all people I would least expect, it is Andreas who comes walking over

“Andreas?” I watch him walk towards me

He smiles,
“are you ok?”

“Oh—well....” as I’m not sure what to say I wait for him

“I heard all the commotion ....” he smiles but glances around and we both see Jörn and Willem head towards the auditorium but I notice Jörn turn to see Andreas as they both acknowledge each other with a nod, “I’m here with Madison,” he adds and it is only because of the way he seems to hide a blush that it occurs to me that this must be the name of his girlfriend; his ex Juilliard instructor

I look around for her

“She’s waiting at our seats —I just came to bring you....” he looks around and it is just a small mannerism about him so much like his father that tells me

And so I follow Andreas up and down hallways

He says,
“are you all right?” As we stand just outside the seating area and as it is time the concert begins, all I can do is nod as I study him a bit longer and I meet his eyes.

I say,
“so how much do you know?”

I see how his mouth tenses to hide a smile but then he just winks at me

*************

As I sit among the audience I am aware of the inconspicuous six men and —the others across the way on the other side of the platformed stage

and once the performance has begun I think about what Jörn once told me —how his spy work keeps his mind sharp for the music

or was it the other way around?

And as I watch him among the orchestra with his cello, his timing so perfect..... his moves so graceful .... you would not think he just intercepted a perpetrator and I wonder how disciplined must he be to focus so well? It is almost hypnotic to watch the way his bow glides and sweeps, as if an extension of himself, and how to listen and watch him is to fall under his spell and I almost don’t even notice when Willem joins me to sit down next to me

**************


It is after the concert that first Willem brings me to a small room downstairs by the lobby.

When we go inside there is Jörn with the six men and..... the man who threw me down!

I gasp loudly as I enter the room as I was under the impression he was at police head quarters

What is going on....?

“Duva! Come here,” Jörn waves at me from behind a table where he sits facing the man .... who I notice is handcuffed behind his back

I walk around and glance at the person awkwardly cuffed to the chair

He could be anyone

I don’t recognize anything about the person and I wonder now about the other one.... the one who did look familiar

and it occurs to me to know from where

I walk over to Jörn and he talks to me as if there is no one else there. He reaches for me and asks in my ear,
“are you all right?”

I look now into his eyes and wonder as I fall into them, what is it about him that makes me ....

“Yes,” I say

“Do you recognize this man?” Jörn asks me loud enough for everyone

“No,” I say but I feel him touch me under my coat out of sight of anyone there

“Henrik—“ Jörn waves to one of the giants “ta bort honom!” and points to the handcuffed person

After they go Jörn talks to the remaining five with Willem and as I try to listen they mostly go over details of what they saw from where they stood and what they heard others say

But I don’t want to hear any more .... and mostly I find I am more overwhelmed with the slow dawning that Jörn is not just some mere peon on the scale of his espionage work as it clearly is obvious everyone this evening seem to ....work for him

the strange dawning of this thought of him ....this image I get.... not unlike the vampire pirate

Instead.... only — as some dark ruler of an underworld.... of spy games

All the way on the ride from Lincoln Center I see over and over the image of Jörn jumping from the gallery and am so lost in thought that when he says,

“duva....?”

to indicate the cab is stopped at our building that I return to my surroundings

As we go up he asks calmly,

“are you still angry at me about this morning?”

“This morning?” I ask

He looks at me with a kind of guilty expression that confuses me as he indicates with a nod

“This morning....?” I whisper again to myself as the elevator stops at his floor and as we walk out, he presses his hand to my waist to urge me along to his door as I am distracted and try to think— this morning?

“You don’t remember our.... discussion this morning?” he gives me a doubtful smile which

 ..... then makes me laugh.

“Yes!” I say because it is something in his smile that reminds me but I say, “was that only this morning? Oh, your piano arrived,” I say as we walk in and it is obvious but I say it anyway

“Yes, I see,” he says thoughtfully looking at it as we walk in

But then he stops and looks at me with such distraction that I stare at him a long moment. What does it mean ....

but instead he unbuttons my coat and takes my coat from me. I watch him go to hang it in his coat closet and then remove his and do the same

He hesitates but then says,

“they’ll be coming back here.....” he watches me and walks over, “it’s going to be a long night....” but he leads me out through the passage between his door to the penthouse. He presses the code and we walk through

I go along because I know there is more than he is able to tell me. I decide to wait before asking him anything

We go to the office of what had once been Ethan’s.

As we enter, it is obvious Jörn has been using it as his own for quite awhile. And it makes me wonder how many trips he has taken during the time we have been up north.

The dark wood paneled walls, although still polished, seem as if..... to have a fresher patina —that seems born of a new era but also I see a tack board with scraps of notes and information next to printouts of people’s pictures

I also notice more equipment than would have previously never been in technology and more monitors and mysterious devices

The four club chairs that face the heavy cherry wood desk have neat stacks of envelopes on the tables beside them

“Would you mind doing me a favor?” Jörn asks me looking around at each chair as if he is imagining the person they represent and then looks at me

“Ok?” I say

“Would you mind making coffee?”

*******

What unfinished business?

Because I do fall asleep waiting for his evening meeting with his guests to end but find I wake up and it is the middle of the night.


And now cannot fall back to sleep ....especially as now I can’t stop thinking of all the wild events of the evening —actually, from start to finish


I go to the window that looks out over the street and then sit in the wing chair by it and stare at the grand piano that just this morning arrived. It looks like the other one back at the Barn house but this one is older with a deeper gloss. I pull my legs up and consider the events as I write into my phone


Because now I think about the oddness of bumping into Gerald. Although, not so odd, really, because he lives by the Met and ..... but I think about our conversation

What was it that made Gerald suddenly change his mind?

Jörn finds me writing into my phone

“You can’t sleep either?” I ask him. He answers with a distracted shrug and a half kind of smile at me as I watch him walk over to the ‘new’ piano —which is an old piano, actually. A restored Steinway rescued from sea damage from Hurricane Sandy, and which is why the restoration company wants Jörn’s review

He wears just the black trousers of his suit, with just the sinewy of muscle to fill out the rest.

I watch him go to the piano. And watch him move. I like the way his hair falls loose in the light

He walks around the piano deep in thought,

“So, the guy, you wanted to know?” his fingers begin with a strong intro, “he works with that terrorist group I told you about awhile back,” but he says this casually as if discussing the dry cleaning as he is listening to each piano key with careful calculation

“What terrorist group?” I ask alarmed

“The one I told you about. I said someone you once knew had connections with ....”

“Retnuh Nivek....” I whisper somehow remembering the conversation

I realize what he plays is from his opera. This is the newer version which I recognize .... his revision has a more sinister quality I have noticed

“Come here,” he says and he moves to pull me to sit within his long legs.

He takes my hands and lays them on the keys and slides his fingers through mine— in that way that he does; that we do; a kind of repertoire we have and always do with a slow deliberation, like a lover’s conversation and is always erotic

We play some chords together and it begins the way it usually does until .... something in the chords change, his fingers over mine .... he presses and as I move to change the chord to one of our habit, he places my fingers differently .... my fingers stumble and the chord is off; he presses my fingers back in place to do it again and this time the right hand responds

only it is the third repeat of this that I begin to feel ill

a heat and a pain .... I pull my hand free and realize my hand has gone all sweaty

“I’m going to be sick!” I say and push away from him towards the bathroom to vomit