It seems several hours must have gone by, left still not knowing what has happened
....as when I do try his number, after ten minutes, it goes directly to voice mail, leaving me frozen to sit still and just wait, staring dumbly at the last monitor I saw him in
....but it must have been much less time than that when he finally does call —as time is strange that way,
it had to be within an hour of manic anxiety
“Sorry, my phone battery died,” he says to me when he calls; it is by then some time around seven I realize
“Were you watching the monitors?” he asks, “did you see if anyone was following?”
And by then I am too exhausted from the stress of the night with no sleep and too relieved .... I guess.... to get excited or exclaim; much too unable to have any energy left to be wound up or even be angry at his apparent glibness; just glad to hear his voice and so just say,
“Oh— the boat or—?”
“Yes, the boat, the cargo ship,” he says
“No, nobody was following in the water but the monitors went blank for awhile —I think I bumped the button on the circuit strip,” I say
“That wouldn’t affect the recording, I can look at it later but you would have seen a boat if it was just a minute or so. In any case, they couldn’t trace it to me,” he sounds tired too, I can hear it in his voice
“Jörn, do you always do that?—I mean, have you? Is this like a regular thing?” I ask
“That was the last one,” he says this now with a heavy sigh of relief, “I needed to transfer the gold to another location. I won’t have to do it again—I am not going to store it back there anymore....”
And as if any of this makes sense to me
“You know.... I saw you hanging from the helicopter,” I say
But he just says,
“Mmm....” in a tired noncommittal way
“Jörn?”
“Ja—yes, duva....” as he seems half asleep, “I’m glad that was the last one— I’m on my way back, I should be back there soon after your shipment arrives —and don’t forget to call that number but use the business line —and make sure you don’t use your real name,” he says this also very noncommittal, as if half asleep
“Right, Elton....Are you driving?—I don’t hear a motorcycle?”
“No, I’m on a train. And I grabbed another disguise, but I’m going to have a quick nap now —oh! and duva, try to disguise your voice when you call the number —ask for Paulina—can you, maybe, deepen it?”
“Deepen it? Why?”
“To sound more like an Elton,” he says tiredly
“Then I am supposed to be a guy? You never said.”
“Nobody is going to check body parts,” he says
***
And after.... slouched in a chair, I look again at the necklace and locket .... as there has been no time to really, so— I look at it now .... it is somehow delicate and pretty, I find as I study it, and admire the work of it, finding myself amazed at discovering yet more mystery about Jörn, even now after going on two years, I think —and note, too, as I study his craftsmanship, the way it has that strange gray-blue glow, almost like his eyes; those eyes of kryptonite ....and I flick the little key that dangles as I think this, considering ....the work of JM smeden .... and like his music, I consider, his exacting attention to detail is .... just like everything he does, isn’t it? ....and only then decide to put it on, even as there is no mirror down here to look at myself with it on
But then I hear the buzzer —a seeming foreign sound of alarm that shocks me out of a daze and alerts me to realize: oh, this must be the shipment. The guy must be having trouble with the pin code, I realize. And get up from the desk and walk out of the cage to the conveyor belt that, hours before, I saw him leave on
but there is a queer and dazed sense, again, like I have done this kind of thing before ....for him.... and it seems the sleepiness I feel seems to open parts of my mind as I start to realize something else.... it is this about him, this— and why it is that it seems I so blindly .... just go.... as if I would follow him anywhere, because ..... I sense I already have.... so many times before.... as if from so many life times .... ago ....and maybe it is that which does not make it seem at all strange .... and why I do it
he said ‘trust’ didn’t he? And so, is it this? what must be why .... it is.... about him, this —trust.... ? Is it that ? I had for him .... as if from somewhere inside .... like from some other time somewhere long ago, it feels —like some kind of strange and blind trust for him
since .... that very first day when I first saw him in the lobby .... that day..... when I was first caught in his gaze
what was it he meant in his riddle about trust? What did he mean....? Only my thoughts have become foggy and so dazed as I climb onto the conveyor belt and watch the electric doors open as I move on the belt as it goes and then find as it descends, I am now outside moving down a hill through trees in a pale morning light
No comments:
Post a Comment