Catacombs & noir double agents (jm muse)

And as I am pulled along by the wrist, I expect to be going back up through to the dungeon, but instead, Jörn pulls me into another direction that is towards the gym. But then he stops at where the corridor winds and then he hits the wall with his fist

“What are you doing?” I ask because I wonder if he’s gone half-mad 

Jörn just raises one brow and inclines his head so I look

I realize that his punching the wall in that way has triggered a release to one of the hidden doorways,

“it’s your birthday but all backwards,” he tells me as he shows me the keypad that is now exposed by the impact of his fist, “year first, month and day. You do it.”

“Where does this lead?” I hesitate 

“It transverses the catacombs but then leads to the hide,” he says and then nods to the keypad for me to put the numbers in

“You put this in then?”

“I added the coded lock, which is also an alarm that gets set off if it’s the wrong set of numbers so be careful.... but the architect designed all this, it was all here,” he says

“Did Lisa know about all this?” still hesitating, I ask searching his eyes

Jörn smiles again in that way that reminds me of a vampire who’s hungry to feed,

“what do you think?” and like tasers, the kryptonite charges through me 

“I—I think...” and it is not the vodka that heats my skin —like a reminder of how long it has been and have trouble loading a thought, 

“Well, that maybe ....and have thought for awhile, honestly .... that—you perhaps likely set it all up,” I say, now turning my head up at him

“Is that what you think, duva?” then, says into my ear, “put in the numbers....”

but as I start to, have to stop to think as how it is all backwards—and then purposely, he sabotages me as he sinks his teeth into my neck

“Do you want me to set off the alarm?” I ask him

He laughs at me and then puts the numbers in himself. Once having done, the door releases as if spring-loaded. He shuts the way behind us after we go through and now I see we are in a different part of the catacombs I don’t know

“So is this like a bird-hide that this leads to?” I ask him as he takes my hand and leads the way

“In a way. That is the idea. It is built in the trees,” he says, “and very clever as it cannot be seen unless you know what to look for.”

“It’s behind the farmhouse?”

“You’ll see,” he says

I see one of the golf carts as we follow the bend and notice it’s being charged with a cord plugged into the catacomb wall

“Is there electricity down here?”

“It’s solar like everything else he built here— and hydropower from under the pond; the pond which is above that ceiling window—over—you know where I mean?— over where the round bed is up there,”  Jörn says now with thoughtful admiration, “the architect was quite a genius,”

and it is this which makes me say,

“he wasn’t just an architect was he?” 

“Hmm....” Jörn smiles, “so, you’ve worked that out too, I guess.”

“So all this wasn’t just a fall-out shelter?”

“Well, I’m sure that had something to do with it as he was privy to inside information,” he stands by the golf cart and unplugs it, “get in, I’ll show you how to use it.”

“I don’t think I should drive, I’ve been drinking,” I tell him

“I won’t tell.”

“Ok....” 

but not realizing the pedal requires only a tap, I hit the wall 

he says,

“it’s not a carnival bumper-car—never mind, move over.”

I climb over him and he slides over. He puts the lights on and the catacombs light up,

“it’s not a golf cart exactly either. It’s like a rover.”

As he drives around awhile I look around, we maneuver through the long, yet narrow passages. I start to realize how complex it all is down here, and feel it would be so easy to get lost

After awhile he says pointing,

“where that glowing bulb is—there is another doorway. That one leads to a passage right under the sauna,” he says, “and, so you know, not that I think you’ll ever need it, but they all have the same number codes down here.”

“Um—where exactly are we going?”

“I just took you in a circle. We’re back where the car was plugged in. Ready?” he asks and parks. “Let’s go,” and gets off and walks towards a spot along the wall where he points to where the way starts to bend again, “right there, under that light. Hit it right here,” and points, “this time you put in the code.”

“So all the doorways are under the lights?”

“Yes,” he says, “each light marks a doorway. They all have this small impression here, that’s where you hit.”

This time when we go through, the next corridor is different. This is more like a tunnel and is narrow. It is noticeably warmer and the walls seem more like stucco or clay. The way leads to a very narrow winding staircase 

“The hide is actually built from a very big, old, dead tree. We’re climbing up through what was once the trunk of the tree,” Jörn says as we climb up

“Ok, so—when you said it is built in the trees you meant it is built in a tree,” I say

“Both. This is surrounded by all those tall trees you can see from our bedroom back at the barn house. You can’t see the hide at all because of all the trees— and the outside walls are mirrored so.... it’s practically invisible.”

“So it’s like a treehouse? —a hide treehouse....”

“Precisely,” he stops at the top where there’s an odd round door, like a hobbit house, “you first,” he says and pushes the door open. He finds the light and flips a switch

Inside seems more like a yurt, as it is all circular, and as I get used to the light, I can see that the walls are clear like a continual window or giant aquarium on this side, and this way, we are able to see outside. Mostly just trees with thick branches, but some daylight comes through them

“Wow.... it really is a hide. You can see all the birds and squirrels....” I notice

“And foxes. I’ve seen a few bears from up here,” and as he says this, his phone alerts, “it’s Willem....” and walks a few steps away as he answers the call, and then after a long pause of listening to Willem, he says into the phone,

 “.... I think they’re taking turns watching out for agents —your distraction bought us time ....ok.... when do you think they’ll get here? .... that’s about eight hours from here....”

And as he talks, I walk around the circular interior, noticing piles of blankets and rugs and .... hides.... 

and even as I don’t like animal skins, there is something about them that draws me closer .... 

white hides .... 

like the dreams .... piled up in the same way as .... the smeden’s hut. The same way. Just like how he arranged things in the sauna, the way it looked just like the dreams 

I kneel in front of the pile of hides and get that same chill. Like the first time I saw him .... that day in the lobby ....that chill .... I reach to touch the hides with my fingers .... remembering ..... his scent.... on the hides ....

my thoughts go in all directions; overwhelmed —by all things.... the catacombs, the concern about the man in the ski mask, the hunters with rifles after me.... the safe, and

 ....Jörn and with him emotions that I have learned to push away and avoid, not knowing what to really put my faith into 

but now .... as I am reminded of these memories ....all. ....connected to the dreams .... the dreams I have had all my life way before Jörn and I ever met.... that .... I feel and felt from the beginning; from that first glimpse of him .... all are connected —like that day too— the time in his kitchen with the cup, the touch of his hand and how.... how all are.... connected —connected to him 

And all this overwhelms. 

Somehow, though, being here.... this enclosed space that feels so familiar for its resemblance .... even the placement of the space heater sat at the proximity and angles of the piled hides and the bench-like pallet; like a cot or couch to the left of the hides and facing the heater, so like the fire pit; the forge where the image seems burned forever.... like the clang of metal that beat in time by the motion of long, strong arms, the slick muscles of his back, the gold of his hair in the firelight 

“Duva....”

He makes me start as I didn’t hear him walk over

“I was just talking to you, didn’t you hear me?” he asks me kneeling down to me

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.... Jörn—did you put all these things in here?” 

He looks around,

“it gets cold in here. I thought they’d be necessary if we had to ever come up here. Those trunks over there have some basics like emergency supplies and basic survival rations. Outside the door where we came in there’s a unit that has running water and a lavatory—“

I interrupt him,

“there’s something that’s been bothering me. I need to ask you this....”

“Ok....”

“About the safe.”

“What about it?”

“Well.... why....? I mean—why would you need me to tell you the code? Those things inside it. Why should anyone have to open it? Those things .... are horrible,” I say

“No, it is concern of having the weapons in the wrong hands that is more the issue —so it is with the intent to dispose of them— but besides this, there’s something potentially almost more threatening, which is why it is necessary to learn the key names involved— that is in all those documents ....in files; paperwork, the old microfilm. Lists of the names of organizations.  Who was working for who—“

“But aren’t they all dead by now? I mean, this is old news, Jörn, it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“No— not really because —you have to realize, the organizations go back to those old organizations—the moguls; through the families, it gets passed down— they are all connected with the money; the wealth, all involved— so exposing the names.... that is what we’ve been after—details of dates that coincide with archived events we have records of; so, what is in there, those documents in the safe are records and invoices of accounts, detailed instructions with letterheads of all the key players that for decades we have suspected and been after, just never had any actual evidence to go by ....we had part of the information already on file —but this— links it all ....to how major events occurred —like, for example, what happened twenty years ago. You know it is about big control and world power. Just consider back then you know —where was the power?—oil. Oil.... the wealth behind it all — so it goes back to the connections with the families. Who do you think hired those people after you? People like ....Nevik Retnuh....”

and just that name is enough to make it all real. Real enough to fill me with terror

I rub my eyes behind my glasses,

“he’s still —? do you know where he is ....?” and I feel Jörn’s touch on my shoulder

But instead of answering that, Jörn says something else,

“there’s more I haven’t told you ....that you should know at this point.... about the safe—“

“Oh no! If it’s any worse than nuclear bombs and viruses I don’t want to know!” I nearly shriek this, interrupting him and half begging, pleading now 

“No—no, listen— it’s something else.... the reason my government was holding me .... duva, you see—it is because they know I took the safe back but —they think I gave it to ..... them....”

“Them? Who’s them?”

“Duva— who do you think?”

“You mean.... no— wait, back up—what??? ....No— they think....? Jörn are you saying.... so—they think you’re a double agent....? —so....” I look at him as it starts to make sense, “so you mean—“

“And while they’re busy chasing me, they’re not watching what these guys are doing. So — maybe you see why I had to break out of there —you understand?— to get to the evidence. Right now those guys down there are not after that safe you saw next to the gym. Because they think they already have it,” Jörn says

“Why do they think that?” I ask 

“Because— well....” here he actually laughs, “because I had a fake made. They have the fake and —my— government think I’m working with —them—”

“So if they think they already have the safe then.... why are they here?”

He looks at me

It takes awhile to understand why he is looking at me that way. 

But it eventually dawns

and I say, 

“....because they want the code.”

Thoughts and some hide-and-seek (jm muse)

Because Willem requires Jörn for something, he leaves me when he gets Willem’s text from up in the cage and goes back up to the dungeon saying,

“I’ll be right back.”

“You have said that before,” I say to him as he goes, “but then you did not return till months later.”

I watch him as he hesitates at the doorway. He stops and turns to look at me. But then he just looks at me with some expression that I cannot read 

and it occurs to me that it seems he tries to read me.... the slight crease between his pale brows and his set jaw. And then with a slight shake of his head he says again,

“I’ll be right back.”

and goes

I get up from the retro diner booth and walk through to the other part that I think of as the mini-grocer and go right up to the isle with the vodka. and sit down on the slick-gray painted floor with it. and break the seal, opening it.... 

this tension I feel.... 

when did I get to be like this....? 

this impatience

 ....it must be

 ....anger? 

I never was like this, I don’t like it.... 

this isn’t me, not how I ever was. 

So, what is it.... unless it is only just surfacing now. Suppressed anger. Could I have buried it all this time ....? 

I think it is disillusion

how dreadful. how miserably dreadful ....

And as I think this, I take a long swig —forgetting, for that moment, it is alcohol and drink too much. It goes right to my head as the fumes burn through my sinus and I gasp from the shock of it breathing in more of the fumes 

“Shit....” I say out loud and close the cap setting it down, and again speak aloud to myself as I tend to in such states, “that was stupid....” 

and lean back to lay flat on the floor.

I look up at the curvaceous ceiling as the dulling sensation sweeps through me along with that sick feeling between head and stomach 

but even that dulls 

....it was much easier before —much more possible before ....

when it seemed one could renew the soul by escaping crowds in some wilderness, take a trip, have a spontaneous adventure — or even just to simply have the freedom to commune quietly with nature and seek peace

and be able to just think.... clear the mind.... to get out of the negativity of one’s own head— and .... to be able to do what I always do ....just impulsively take off somewhere .... a train, a plane, a bus —or just a long drive somewhere far ....just to run away ....somewhere.... somewhere new; another city or country —escape out of my present deadwood life; the go-to reaction I’ve relied upon so often that is not possible now.... just start anew. start over fresh, shed a skin. How many times have I done that? 

but look at this world now .... it is not possible to,

 it feels so confining as there is no escape.... 

and this must be why I feel this way .... and not familiar with what this is —and so too, feel so guilty to feel it —too—

because I know what is out there, going on everywhere in the world. It reminds me of the same ugly strip malls I found going from the east coast to the west coast...

The trap of a plague, the unrest in the world, coming to blows .... 

what is happiness? 

is it possible to find this I wonder 

Especially when this is everywhere? 

What if this is really the summit of this search for enlightenment....? —whether or not the search is consciously pursued by this world, it may be having this forced upon it. all forced to, in some conscious or unconscious way; to struggle with and determine some elusive essential meaning within these suffocating current realities presented by what is exposed during these confines of life as it is 

So what difference does any of this make .... the injustices .... as I struggle with my own .... ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness’ ? ....that line from the US Declaration of Independence—why does it sound so naïve .... these days? 

I sit up to take another swig 

but I know .... everything matters

even as we doubt it

it does .... 

it is only that sometimes ....

 it is hard to see the light; hard to find it....

why do I think of Jung again saying how we become our names .... or is it the other way around .... I wonder.... it seems I have always been in search for the light ....  reaching blindly from the darkness .... and such darkness 

reaching for something 

....that may be inside me 

and still seems to elude me.... 

I take another swig

****

Jörn comes back .... he calls for me from the kitchen area 

and only now I realize how the alcohol has gone to my head when I move to get up from lying on the floor

He calls again 

And because I am delayed I have to call back from the floor,

“I’m in here!” and sit up

I hear his footsteps before he appears and think to right myself, shaking out my hair as I stand up, gripping the shelving as he comes in

“Hej,” I say 

but he gives me an odd look noticing the bottle

“Hej,” he repeats and walks over to take it from me. Then opens it and takes a swig too and closes it with a smile as he looks at me then puts the bottle back on the shelf, “what is going on with you?” he says. But it does not come out like a question

“While you have gone across the ocean a few times, I haven’t even left this dungeon ....” I say “I can’t exactly be —enterprising!” and the last part comes out more suddenly than I meant it to as I lose my balance from the alcohol; his hand comes out to grab me before I crash into the rows of vodka on the shelf 

When I look up expecting him to be disapproving, I find he is holding back a laugh at my expense and still gripping me, now with both hands 

but recklessly I say,

“and who knows what —you—have been up to.... who—not that I’ll ask you, it’s not my business....”

He looks at the bottle as if judging how much I’ve had and looks at me thoughtfully,

“ahhh— is that what it is? Even after Willem explained to you about Stina and how I was being held there—“

“Not the whole time!” I say, and am more shocked than he is for snapping at him 

Only he laughs,

“is that why you won’t let me near you? You think I have had time for sporting activities? Stina’s not my type!” he corners me to the shelf and traps me there, leaning over me with his arms and putting his booted feet so I can’t move

“Well, Lisa then, she’s back there in Sweden where you obviously were —not that it’s my business—“

“Oh no,” and mocks me, “of course not,” while still laughing at me, “I see vodka is your truth serum, duva —I didn’t know you were the jealous type! You don’t usually show this to me. You really think I get around —and with my ex? What an imagination you have— double-O-seven,” and still he is laughing with too much enthusiasm at my expense, “yes,” he says now more thoughtfully, “I think you do need to get out of here. Come on— let me show you something—“ and moves to pull me from there, now grabbing hold of me by my wrist

“Where?”

“To the hide,” he says

“We’re going to hide?” 

“No, to-the-hide— that’s where we’re going, come on.”

memory of a summer’s day

 

she stepped out one fine day to while

and found a pest annoy, “I know what makes your secret smile,” (as she met conceit there on the lane),“so don’t be so coy.”

And in reply with curtsy, she did sweetly say,

“I am sure I am not so urbane”

Because, we must confess, something he would never know 

  in truth it was the silkiness of freedom that did lay

with nothing beneath her skirt that fine day

Electra’s dictionary & Film Noir/a ravishing touch on the man with the vampire eyes; a short (edjmmusechron)

 

it seems now they wait for others to show ....I leave the cage to be alone while Jörn and Willem stand there watching the monitors as they discuss.... going over details about everyone in the barn house

hatching their strategy  

.... but I’m just no good with anxiety ....

I think to find calm 

I go down to the underground to the kitchen area. I go to sit at the table which is attached to the booth that looks as though it was salvaged from an old diner coffee shop from the 1940’s; the strange shade of orange upholstery and the table framed in chrome 

I pull up my legs to sit sideways and lean against the inner wall.... thinking to distract myself with some illusion of normalcy ....by looking at what is going on in the world via my phone apps. But ....it seems to only make it all worse, 

but then, is this so surprising....no, not at all.... 

besides the usual 2020 sick hangover, how’s some new threats of war, shootings, ugly and bitter global politicians cooking up cocktails of poisons to keep future films and video games of war and true crimes fully supplied 

....Oh that bruised emptiness that comes when something within you so desperately needs something so .... so.... intangible and obscure. but so necessary. too necessary to be able to ignore ....nor deny. because it presses so real and so heavy. it chokes

so I remove from all this ....remove .... to the place separate within ....where nothing bad can come inside it; nothing goes in, nothing goes out; this place inside, my own underground bunker with its own encoded lock that never lets. anything. in. unseen and invincible because nothing reveals it is there at all. Invisible....invincible 

wrapped neatly in words 

throwing out meaning. in messages; throwing out messages in its own Morse codes ....and write into my phone, lose myself for hours in my words ....until I forget the fear that threatens to overwhelm me

And so it is only the sound, that deliberate sound of a scrape of a boot sole that pulls me free of my thoughts and I look up and see Jörn standing in the doorway leading into the room I sit in ....and sense he has been there awhile

At first he does nothing. He just stands there watching me. The baseball cap now gone and perhaps it is just the way his sleeves are pulled up past his forearms and how the jeans he still wears now rest lower on his hips that causes me to see him as himself again

 ....and glad of this .... as the ice that has clung to me for so long now seems to melt away by just this sight of him now like this and the way his eyes look at me. that way. And then without a word, he walks over and sits down at the table facing me

for awhile we just sit there and just look at each other and don’t say anything. we don’t say anything. but it feels like we say so many things.... 

and after a while of this he reaches for my hand but only speaks with his eyes ....and then closes both his hands around the one he holds, still watching me.... and because I feel the sweeping ache to grip him, slide my fingers through his and the warmth spreads into me.... and then he smiles and he presses his mouth to the back of my hand and says,

“I’ve missed your eyes.”

game noir for the cowboys

I wait inside the cage and watch the monitors— only the one I watch is the monitor that has the view of what is outside the stairwell where once I had to unlock Jörn from. I know that out that way is another path that reaches the highway. It is the way the delivery trucks come, but what I now know is what only now Jörn has bothered to explain. 

This side cannot be seen from the barn house because it lets out on another street which is the other side of the highway. The angle of how the farm house is situated distorts its visibility because there is another steep hill and a group of houses that cloaks any hint of presence that a road should lead to another address, which is the basement exit at the base of the stairwell. From the outside I can see from the monitor that it looks just like a long closed up general store attached to an abandoned gasoline station. 

There’s a hill and the wooden structure of what had once been the local pump; for historic purposes, it had never been knocked down as it was protected by some law and had once been owned by the farmer whose family built the original house, so remained on the property despite the alternate street and address. It seems the architect who enjoyed building follies and hidden bunkers had a pragmatic sense of humor. 

More and more it occurs to me that Lisa’s acquiring the place for us to rent was as much of an accident as Jörn ending up with all my mail at the penthouse. 

Not for the first time I begin to realize, Jörn ‘arranges’ events that simply appear like incidentally convenient occurrences. Yes, he does play his cards carefully, down to the last detail and keeps a straight face like a professional actor while keeping the most minimal of emotional expressions from crossing his face. He chooses what he lets you see .... doesn’t he? Why does this bother me as I think about this? 

I watch him now from the monitor as he waits for Willem outside. Watch him pace across the old wood porch in his American clothes disguise ... that I do not much like on him. Now with the added Mets baseball cap —which somehow irritates me even more, along with his affected swagger and American beer ....and then I think—he’s missed his calling, he seems to like playacting ....or maybe he just misses the stage 

But then something pulls my eyes away from that monitor and I glance over at the others as I see things happening in the barn house ....it looks like the men are arguing about something .... I move to enhance the focus 

There is something going on. They are fighting now—at first I see they are shouting —two men; the big guy who I had first spotted that day in the ski mask. I recognize his body type; the thick middle and the big shoulders— he grabs the man shouting at him and throws him across the top of Jörn’s piano.... shit.... not the piano ....I shudder as I watch it happen .... and then it is chaos as another guy pulls him off and takes a swing at the man shouting and pulls out a gun, then everyone seems to get involved 

I pick up my phone and text Jörn:

<something’s going on in the barn house, they’re fighting>

I look at the monitor where Jörn is but realize Willem has arrived and have to look closer as it seems Willem too has been creative with his own disguise in a fake dark beard and a deer hunter’s jacket. I notice a Ford pickup truck and almost want to laugh at their stereotypes but then, I can’t really argue their choices. 

I look back at the barn house monitors. They have stopped fighting and now seem to be standing around looking at something on the television screen—but then— the stairwell door bursts open and I jump as Jörn and Willem step into the dungeon 

“I thought you vere joking about de bats— zeems radder creepy don’t ya think wid all about de Wuhan— hey, look, it’s Dusk,” Willem looks at me, “hoe gaat het?”

“Dusk?—hoe gaat het, Rutger Hauer,” I say back, looking at his ridiculous disguise that actually looks more like De Niro. He laughs. I turn now to say, “Jörn, did you see my text? You just missed it actually—they were having some kind of huge brawl! One guy landed on your piano, by the way but, look!—now they’re all just staring at the TV.”

Jörn looks at my text and walks over glancing up at the monitors,

“oh— they must have gotten the update....”

“Update?” I ask and look from Jörn to Willem as they exchange glances 

“FBI....” Willem says looking at me to fill me in and then adds, “I have caused your house guests some trouble —they’ve put out an APB ....only I didn’t say exactly vere dey are ‘cause, vell, ve don’t need dem sniffing around our ‘safe problem’ just yet—zo, instead our inside boys will be joining us real soon....”

driftwood

 

I fear this boat has gone adrift, without a mast and swift

lost at sea…. all purpose gone

there lies sunk with treasure, beneath a port

insignificant and forgotten 

    ….forever to cast that faded dawn 

swept beneath the waves,

like a mermaid’s dusty basement gallery 

 a crypt to lay to rest all memory….

    

  resigned to private peace

Noir Pandora’s box; so what’s in the safe, after all? (e.d.jmmusechron)

 

We reach back inside the underground 

It seems awhile that I realize I have been lost in thought.... deep inside .... somewhere within....

      not even aware that I am sat upon that strange round bed under the glass ceiling window where above the pond is.... 

    did I see it? I was not really paying attention to my surroundings ....beyond the immediate .... concerns and....

I don’t know what I think about. Maybe I flatline.... circuits blown, but then, I should be used to this as it seems drama follows me everywhere .... despite my need for otherwise. That is, a calm life with harmony .... but that has never been my lot in life, I don’t know why and so tired of blaming myself but it must be me. The more I withdraw the more it seems to irritate those who know that I even exist

and the shock of facing a rifle has eclipsed .... how much I have .... anticipated and longed for the moment of seeing .... Jörn .... and it seems I just am frozen there shaking, questioning myself over how do I seem to bring this on? and it escalates into thoughts of why it seems disaster is all I achieve even as I think I do all I can to avoid it; like my daughter that I still don’t understand how it all went against me when I love her so much, how is it possible to attract such bad fortune at every turn, I wonder as I sit there wondering why I’m being hunted down for some code I don’t hardly remember 

it all goes back to my childhood as it seems too my subconscious mind is thus so warped —and from whose loins of I was spawned from to became this identity I never chose to be.... is at liberty to reek havoc all over and through my life ...events I hardly remember ....that shaped the outcome of my life and ....will forever haunt me .... continue to destroy me.... despite all my efforts to rise above them .... I’m caught in a tangled trap of emotions I don’t even understand and hold me from release or peace 

“You got so thin.”

I look up as he comes through the partition. It seems he has made me a cup of tea

and as I take it from him ....our hands touch that way. Reminding me again of .... things. Like before. On the stairs. It was this moment when .... he always comes to me when I am in danger; when it seems it is impending disaster ....like now....

“No, it is just muscle loss from not getting out to do things like hiking —being stuck in.”

“Duva, I can feel your bones right through your skin,” he says, he reaches to run his hand over my shoulder, “are you eating?”

I recoil part from his words. I pull away and draw my legs up to me,

“sorry for being hideous to you. How did you know where I was and what were you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming, why?!”

and because he does not reply, I finally turn to look up at him

it is the look in his eyes that disarms me.... I had not expected to see that .... hurt....?

for a moment it stuns me to see that. I have to rewind in my mind whatever we just said and .... my face burns .... 

he sits down beside me.... but I become tense. I move back a few inches and when I look up at him I see his eyes react 

He says,

“I ....your phone....” he looks at me and I can see he is thinking about not what he says but something else .... “your phone; the gps.... I tracked you.... I realized you left the underground and were walking right into danger —thank god I was there—skit! what were you thinking!?! I have to ask because —what if I hadn’t been there in time? What made you do that?!”

“I am sick of being stuck in here! How could you just leave me here like that, Jörn? All those weeks— and you never even said— I think I am losing my mind....” I say the last part without expecting to and start to cry but stop myself in time

....and he reaches for me 

“No....!” I pull away and cover my face, “you still haven’t said why you’re here!”

“Why?—duva.... if it were up to me I would not have left you here like this. They didn’t give me a choice —to do with my government, it’s too involved to go into and I can’t really reveal classified information. As you know, I’m not even supposed to be here....”

“So why are you? Are you going to be arrested? I still don’t understand how you can travel so freely when nobody is even allowed to fly anywhere!” 

I look at him

and he smiles .... in that way he has —what is that? he reaches again for me and as I start to pull away he says,

“why do you think I’m here?”

So .... I think about what Willem said 

his taking foolish chances.... how he said it was not like Jörn to ....

“I have to get to the house,” Jörn suddenly says

“The house?”

“Yes....” he tells me

“But aren’t they there?”

Jörn nods in that way that seems to say “obviously”

“You can’t go up there!” I say, “they have guns!”

“Duva....” and now he looks at me in that way as if I may be a bit slow and shakes his head

“Jörn— no! —what do mean?”

He shrugs and runs his hand over his hip as if to explain —and only now I see he has a gun

“They can’t stay there in the house. Especially now that they know you’re here. They’ve been looking for the safe— that’s why they haven’t left— and you— because they know you have the code .... they know it has to be here.”

“I found them,” I say now, as if I think it would be a surprise 

“I know,” he says

And only now it occurs to me that he wanted me to.... 

“But I don’t know the code!”

He tilts his head to one side,

“yes, you do....”

“No! I don’t!”

And this time when he moves near me to touch me I don’t pull away,

“you do.... “ he taps my head, “it’s locked in there.... but I believe I can make you remember.”

“How?— why? Why is it so important anyway? Now? All these years later, why should it matter or be worth all of this?What’s in it?”

He thinks before replying. And studies my face,

“how? You saw the sheets of music. The keyboard ....” and then he sighs heavily “what’s in the safe? Why is it so important? Yes, actually, it is still relevant if you want to know  —what is in there....”

“Why? What can be in there?”

He stands up

I watch him pace around the room. 

It is so strange to see him in here. After all these weeks.... It seems strange to see him too

And only now do I take in his appearance. What he wears. It is not his usual choice of clothes. Somewhat nondescript. Forgettable. And it makes sense now that I think about it. Ordinary jeans, a gray shirt and a plain khaki jacket and work boots; the kind of clothes that can make someone go unnoticed especially to American authorities. Maybe that is what has felt so strange about him, he could pass for American and I find I don’t like it somehow ....remembering him in the lobby that first time I saw him ....heading for his evening’s performance 

He turns around,

“You really want to know what’s in there? Talk about a Pandora’s box.... let’s see, let’s start with just the little things first.... oh, just the.... floor plans of all secret entrances to all the embassies around the world, how about floor plans of places like the Pentagon, Fort Knox—? ....floor plans of all world leader countries secret nuclear bases not to mention formulas and vials of chemical warfare weapons.... Duva.... poisonous bacterias ....for the use of chemical warfare— viruses.... sound familiar? maybe relevant? not so outlandish, is it?.... to be used ....likewise ....let’s see, what else? —the  early development of ....the basis of the Corona virus and SARS ....anthrax.... just to give you an idea of the scale of this....chlorine, nerve gas.... how to build a nuclear weapon .... duva.... you of all people should know what a swine that man was if he hired someone to assault you and fucking left you for dead on the college dorm room floor on a private college compass—call it revenge! —for ....?” Jörn pauses only long enough to take a deep breath as if to reload, “I managed to get a view of the contents when it was back in Sweden— it’s a type of X-ray ..... so.... you should know ....there are other things that —I discovered too that —are ....in there.... I came across an interesting letter that surfaced through .... my sources..... I found things of —a more personal nature to him —that back up his motives of revenge ....photos of your biological father with Castro to appear incriminating.... and even more personal, your mother with —Ethan in compromising situations.... taped phone calls of this nature between them, and ....two blood samples, duva that he meant to send for the definitive DNA test of —guess who exactly? One he got from the hospital in Miami where Ethan passed away....”

For a long moment I sit there even more stunned than before

and then, I suddenly surface,

“please don’t go up there!” I blurt out now filled with dread. I cover my face in my hands

“It has to be done, duva— do you really think I’m going to just stay here and hide?” 

he actually laughs!

“You think you’re going to take on—what five guys!? —with rifles?! All by yourself? You are crazy! Willem’s right— totally foolish!”

“No, maybe not completely alone— actually, now that you mention....Willem will be here any minute....”