“Remember those walls I built?
“....I found a way to let you in
“Burning through the darkest night
“Think I’m addicted to your light
”....Pray it don’t fade away....”
Song lyrics to song “Halo” —Beyoncé Knowles, Evan Kidd Bogart, Ryan B. Tedder
https://youtu.be/wkABWE-WUC8
Somebody’s here! somebody’s here..... Oh my god! what is that? What is that?—what is that banging?
I watch the conveyor belt moving .... there is a barrel on it and it seems to be rolling and bumping into another one
..... but no! there is a banging somewhere —it’s coming from somewhere .... somewhere else!
I spin around searching the huge space I find myself in —oh god, I’m trapped! Did I just get myself locked in here? How do I get out of here? I glance up at the staircase where at the top some door slammed down that was what seemed like the wall behind the pantry shelves — which opened when I turned the key
but how do I open it from this side??? because that banging—there’s someone there!
I move away from the gated office cage with the monitors and the tables and start to back up towards the stairs where I just came down
Wait.... wait.... I hear....I hear a voice! —shouting.... ! —Where is it coming from? —it’s shouting something —at me— they know I’m in here! I try to figure out where it’s coming from.... muffled —like through a wall. A wall? I turn around a few times confused because .... it sounds familiar .... it sounds....like— I walk back towards the conveyor belt— it sounds like, “duva!”
I stop and freeze....
Where is it coming from? I look around
“Duva!”
Yes, I did hear that
I look for the flashlight again on my phone and flick it towards the extremities of the vast darkness
The banging again! And with it,
“duva, open the door!”
The door?—oh.... the door.....I can see it now because of the light from my phone—that.... must be where he is....
Why do I feel like such an idiot now?
I walk across the cement floor and see the door clearly now. I notice it has a door handle that has a locked button..... as Jörn is obviously banging it from the other side .... he must have got locked out
I turn the handle and the button pops open
Jörn swings through the door as if catapulted through and lands on the floor
He looks a bit odd.... oddly pale and .... his clothes are odd too.... he’s sweaty and his hair is a bit matted and stringy —like he’s been there awhile, maybe?
I look where he’s come from which is dark as pitch, but some light from the basement and my phone allow me to notice he was at the top of another staircase
He pulls himself up from the floor in a stumble
“Where does that go?” I ask
before I realize Jörn has blood on him
“Oh my god!” I grab his hand and look up at him as my heart begins to pound in my head— there is something wrapped around his hand.... a purple scarf —to stop the blood
“It’s ok, I just sliced it trying to jam open the door—where the fuck have you been!?”
The last part he yells at me
I look at him confused,
“what?”
He grabs my phone to look at it,
“oh, you never got these?” he waves his messages at me
“I....” I take my phone back, yanking it from his grip—but I decide not to continue because I’m afraid of the look on his face
“Do you never check your phone for messages? Or don’t you know how it works? Let me guess—you turned your phone off because of that fucking clown again?”
“You were supposed to be back three days ago! You never called!” I shriek at him because now I’m angry at him all over again
“Well, if you checked your messages once in awhile you would know why!” he shouts this and it echoes
I watch him walk towards the cage now and.... only now .... really take in what he looks like.... what he’s wearing....What is he wearing? a silk purple scarf....? and what looks like a slick black rubber —jumpsuit ....? or—? could be....it’s hard to guess ....maybe it’s suppose to be like a motorcycle jacket? —over—a skintight jumpsuit....It’s got the rivets ....or.... are they studs....
I half run, as I’m becoming a little sickeningly, curiously amazed with wonder, so I stop him on his way inside the cage grabbing him by his upper arm to pull him around— as.... I see he’s wearing a fishnet shirt underneath and— I grab his hand, as something just caught my eye,
“red nailpolish?” I look up at him, “Jörn.... is there something you want to tell me?”
He almost laughs but his smile stops as he shakes his head at me— because now I can see he seems more than a little bit peeved at me and is trying not to lose it; I know this by how his nostrils are flared and the muscles in his jaw but he keeps his eyes cool on me as he says with a note of sarcasm,
“I am hoping you have some nail varnish removal.”
as if that explains
I take a step back from him and drop my grip on his arm—step back and look at him. I don’t know what to think —if I’m angry....? am I ....? .... well.... so.... instead I show him my own set of fingernails and say,
“the only paint I use goes on canvas, in case you haven’t noticed!” I tell him starting to feel uncomfortable now and more than a little perturbed, “why are you dressed like you’ve either come from a Rocky Horror Picture Show party or an appointment as a dominatrix?”
He starts laughing now as he walks straight into the cage ....as if he does it every day. Well, maybe he does—but as if he does it every day with me.... because I realize he doesn’t seem at all surprised to find me there
and then like a deranged person I snap, “thanks for missing my birthday....”
I decide now to start looking at his text messages ....
Wow.... there’s .....a lot.... of them.... it seems I’ve missed .... quite a lot.....
I find there’s much more to take in all at once—it’s like a graphic novel of War and Peace
and.... there’s one that’s a photo.... which actually is a photo of that weird drawing upstairs .... the one drawn in black marker—the rectangular light switch drawing —that must have .... actually been.... drawn there for me.... as .... there is another pic and this is actually a pic of the key hanging on —the peg.... with messages telling me why.... and how to find the Allen key to open the....
“You didn’t see this?” he asks me now from inside the cage where he’s standing pointing to something on one of the tables
I start to come closer to see what he’s pointing to
“No I....” I start to say
until I realize .... he’s taking a bottle of champagne from inside a little mini refrigerator I had not noticed before
and he’s got two champagne glasses —suddenly I feel like a total loser because the thing he’s pointing to on the table looks like a gift meant for me
I go over to it as I whisper “shit,” to myself
It’s a black satin pouch with something obviously in it, concealed with a long velvet drawstring green ribbon pulled closed
“Oh....” I just stare at it
“You didn’t see it....” he says
I hear him shut the little door to the mini fridge and the scrape of his shoe as he walks over with the two glasses
I look up at him
He gives me a sarcastic smile and then pops open the champagne bottle without saying anything more
“I’m sorry....” I say
He clinks the glasses,
“you don’t want to know what kind of day I just had,” he sighs heavily and starts drinking out of one of the glasses, “skål,” he says, “and happy birthday—it’s still one minute to midnight, so, I did make it, duva.”
I take the glass he’s handing to me
“I don’t have a lot of time though— I hope you still have the key?” he walks over to.... oh, there’s a sink there? He starts washing his hand that is bloody
“So—what? What key? Why were you stuck down there? Did you lock yourself out?”
“You were supposed to have opened it four hours ago—if you read your messages....” he says, adding the last part under his breath, “tell me you have the key, duva?”
“What key?”
“The one—“
I look at him—as he points to the top of the stair case I came from
“Just to let you know— when you pull the cord up there— it releases the ‘guillotine’ door. It gives you about ten seconds first .... so, I hope you have the key?” He asks with a subtle inclination of his head and a sardonic look of warning in those startling vampire eyes that at this moment blaze with an iridescent fire
“Oh....” I nod as I think about that .... “hmm....”
“Duva....” he sighs losing his patience
“Why, is there no other way out of here? Why would you—“ but I stop suddenly, “oh—“
He looks worried now and moves closer
“Oh?” he asks me
I start to smile as I say,
“Oh, please tell me why you are dressed like that?”
I see he’s about lose it now,
“Really, this isn’t funny—we’re already behind on time as it is, please, tell me you have the key!”
It only has just occurred to me, I put it in my other back pocket of my jeans as I feel for it now and show it to him,
“I have it here! Where are you going? You just got here!”
“No, I didn’t just get here, duva—I’ve been stuck on that stair case with bats for the last three hours trying to message you!”
“Oh.... well.... where are you going and— why didn’t you have a key for the other side?”
Jörn doesn’t seem in the mood to answer that but he takes the key from me and goes straight over to something else by one of the computers where there seems to be a network of devices .... one of which .... that .... the key must also .... be used to initiate something —as I watch him turn it in some lock, I hear that sound again.... it’s that humming sound .... and then after that there is a loud click .... and a motor going as it seems to have activated another conveyor belt
“What’s it doing?” I ask him
But he’s watching the monitors now. He goes over to one of the computers and starts typing things and then he starts turning on more monitors. He picks up a remote control and taps a button and I follow his gaze to one of the monitors he’s looking at. He’s making the camera focus closer
He turns to me and says,
“this button pulls you in closer,” he says, “this—goes further away, see? To move it around you do this....” he waits as he watches my face. Then he says, “you got that? Show me what I just told you,” he says now
He hands the remote me
“Why?” I take it from him, “why, Jörn? Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you are going to have to do this,” he says now
“What! Why? I am? What is this? What is this all about? Is this some kind of bomb? Are you a terrorist?”
Now he starts laughing at me,
“No! —why the fuck would you think that?” and apparently he thinks it’s a great joke because he can’t stop laughing over it, “and if I was, do you really think I would ask you— Miss Bambi over here—to set off a bomb,” he’s laughing at this —maybe enjoying the thought too much but then checking his watch suddenly, seriously now, he says, “show me what I just told you how to do.”
I sigh giving in, noticing his hand is still bleeding,
“this pans it and this goes in and out.....” and I do it for him as I look at the monitor
“Ok, good....” he says and waves me to the computers, “a few more things— and I wrote everything down here for you, but I’m going over it with you; you’ll have time to read through my notes as it’ll take a few hours to get there....”
“Get where?” I ask
He shakes his head,
“duva, there’s no time now— had you unlocked the door four hours ago, I could have explained everything but as it is, I’m going to be speeding all the way to Maine— there’s a coffee maker down here, so I suggest you make some as —it’ll be a long night, the bathroom is through there—“
“Maine!”
He was walking back to check something else by another monitor but stops to look at me with a guilty expression. He sighs and comes over to me. He puts his hand on my upper arm and leans against the table by where I’m still standing next to his gift for me,
“look, I meant to explain everything to you but— remember when you mentioned to me about moving somewhere? You said Amsterdam or Maine— you think I never listen to you, I know, but—I decided both would be perfect so .... I’ve .... needed to set up where to store a few things .... it’s a cover....” he indicates his clothes, “I remember —too—you told me you used to manage a boutique in New York— I need you to run —I bought a business, they happen to have three shops; one in Amsterdam, one in Portland and one in Stockholm—“
“What kind of business?” I look at his clothes, “god, not an S and M leather place— I didn’t run that kind of boutique.”
He laughs,
“no, it’s rubber, or pleather; vegan friendly, I thought of you, but right now it’s mainly online since the pandemic, but hopefully, it’ll go back to being open because the Portland one has a club in the evenings which will be perfect for my cover....”
“Your cover?”
But he just gives me a wicked kind of grin
“And yours, duva....” he winks at me, “it specializes in .... unisex clothes —I mean—oh, I almost forgot, tomorrow you have to call someone about the website— I sent you the number, your name is ‘Elton’—“
“Elton? You’re kidding! Why am I Elton?”
But he goes back to check the monitor
“Oh and the boutique is called ‘The Cabaret’.... “ he starts typing something and I watch him for awhile
Then I say,
“Elton is not exactly a macho kind of name—am I supposed to be a cross dresser too?”
“Well, I had to work with what you got, no offense,” he laughs
“And who are you? Eunice or Jonie?”
“Greta,” he says and comes over to me, “I have to keep Stina off my trail, I needed a good disguise and this is what I came up with. She’d never think to look for a tranny in a rubber shop who does cabaret shows— I need a cover to shift the gold across transatlantic and this just seems like the best plan.”
Evidently ....I need to read my messages ..... I am thinking
“Is that all there is to it?” I ask
“I think you’d know; it’s not like you’ve never experienced this .... side,” he gathers my hair into his hand and pulls it aside from my neck and kisses me there, leaving chills, he says, “wash up for me,” and puts his mouth back along my neck and sinks in his teeth, then says into my ear, “I’ll make it up to you.”
....
And it is later, after more instructions and after he leaves when I am left there to think about it all
and find myself staring at the gift still wrapped and hidden in satin and drawn closed in the velvet ribbon
I decide to open it now and pull open the gathered fabric
There is a silver box inside
a silver box like from an expensive jewler’s shop ..... I look at the design on the box
emblazed is a kind of branding emblem of what appears like a warrior shield and within it in gold lettering:
JM
Smeden
uteslutande platina, uteslutande det bästa
Stockholm, Sverige
I open the box. It is a necklace.... it looks like a locket. It glows silver gray-blue in the light. But I realize it is shaped something like—a safe.... with a key that dangles like a charm.... it looks actually like —another safe ....actually
I realize there is a note inside the box folded up
It says
~here is my riddle: what fosters hope; something I long disavowed; so what fosters that? trust? where you stand reading this you see I have and if we have reached this far then this is hope you can~
....And below the printed words there is a drawing, a much better drawing than the one on the wall of the light switch; this one is of a lock
I look again at the box....
JM
Smeden
uteslutande platina, uteslutande det bästa
Stockholm, Sverige
I decide to Google it....
JM Smeden, Stockholm, Sverige ....
“exclusive designer artist jeweler metalsmith Jörn Milström who works exclusively in platinum, putting out new pieces only once every few years that auction at priceless amounts. Not much is known of this reclusive philanthropist beyond his involvement in various worldwide orchestras, recently affiliated with the New York Philharmonic, Milström’s musical family ....” I stop there
and I think now.... the pirate ....
how much about him do I really know....?
and yet.... don’t I ....? in my gut feel .... I do know .... Smeden
and so I think, maybe I was wrong about one thing, though, I think now .... about ....Beatrice

