by Aidan Truhen
Pop.
Zing.
Splat.
But I do not do that instead I watch and I remember that I am very bad at waiting.
Hans Eiger goes to one menswear shop actually a tailor and he buys bespoke menswear. He takes meetings in hotel conference spaces. He has calls in the business suite. He knows people and people know him. He is a face.
Whatever man he is a dandy of some sort no doubt.
Evil Hansel’s mother lives in a duplex on the river she is legit and she is married to a guy from Gibraltar and she sees her father but it’s not like they’re close.
Eiger drives a German automobile with a customized engine. When he is at Die Festung he stores it in a secure garage by the cable car. In town he parks it at the Commodore Hotel.
He eats at a particular table at a particular restaurant where they know him. They know how he takes his coffee.
He has an apartment in Doha on the sixty-first floor of a steel-and-glass tower called Karlsbad House.
He does his high-street banking at a Swiss private bank that is designed to look like a small family firm and has branches in 101 countries. Every week of his life is defined by a schedule that is insofar as he can make it exactly like the last one.
I know how to do this.
I know.
* * *
—
“Hi I am Banjo Telemark hi I—yes the artist THAT’S RIGHT gosh I am so flattered that you—oh in the Neue Zürcher Zeitung right yes that photo OMIGOSH that photo is so embarrassing—what is it you say here HERR GOTT NO’MAL—aha hahaha ahah—yes anyway my GOSH what they did to my chin in that photo no really I am shy oh then just one selfie just one but just for your personal site—hi yes this is my manager Dr. Brunhild Hexenjammer—listen I—well thank you I would like to order suits for all of my team yes also the women but in the men’s style—yes—yes—well I appreciate both the—no the timing is important it must be immediately but I appreciate—yes here is a check by way of persuasion—yes that really is a lot of money it was paid to me by the sultan of—yes he very much is a collector. Yes so I would like them all to have something a little special I leave that to you and them there are five of us in total but as I say—”
And that is Eiger’s suit delayed until after the fair.
It doesn’t matter at all he has plenty. It doesn’t matter at all. It’s not substantive.
But it is the world come calling.
* * *
—
“Good morning sir.”
“Good morning Mr. Telemark.”
“Good morning.”
“Yes you have said.”
“Indeed so well to business then. I wish to open an account.”
“Very good here are the forms. You will also require certain—oh I see that you have prepared well—”
“Yes I like to be expeditious in financial matters—”
“That is excellent but we will also require one—”
“Yes here and also I think recently there has been added a—”
“Yes indeed thank you that is most efficient I do respect such—”
And so on.
Because when Charlie fakes your existence you do not just get a little book with a picture in it. There are people in Valletta who will swear they went to school with me. There is a construction company on Gozo where I did my first job during the summer vacation there is a girl there who broke my heart and has always regretted it.
You can go and ask them. They’ll tell you all about me. No ambiguity at all.
“Thank you so much I have one question can you provide digital account access?”
“Oh yes of course that is just modern. You also will need this it is called an American name quite unusual they say: a dongle.”
“Excellent.”
* * *
—
I cannot go to the school because the lady has seen Banjo and Banjo is hard to forget. Charlie cannot go ditto. Doc does not want to go but I put it on my section of the HOMER board so she goes.
Horrible fucking revenge.
“Welcome to the Dorfschule Kircheisen how splendid you are coming here to live that is excellent.”
“O yes we are very excited our employer is proposing to invest in the region. We are so to speak the advance guard.”
“Ah an invasion!”
“Oh yes quite so an invasion from St. Gallen!”
“The worst kind my God!”
“Yes you shall be quite overrun!”
“Ahaha!”
“Ahahahah!”
“Ahahah!”
“Ah.”
“…”
“…”
“Perhaps you might wish to see the school?”
“Oh yes indeed it looks quite perfect on the website—”
“And how many children—”
“Four—”
“Four my God such riches congratulations—”
“O yes we are quite entirely fecund.”
“…”
“…”
“Gosh well yes. Anyway here we are this is the classroom and—oh how pleasing here this is Erna she is teaching here as an interim measure she is quite elevated we are always delighted to have teachers so qualified—”
She is Hans Eiger’s daughter is what. Agent Hannah’s friend.
Evil Hansel’s mother.
Erna is a researcher. She has just divorced a ne’er-do-well husband and is considering her options. In the meantime, of course, she is teaching, because she does not like to be idle.
She is delighted to meet us. She is the more astonished to learn that Doc is a research scientist by training and that she is looking on behalf of a colleague for someone with—well how remarkable—with exactly the kind of experience Erna has herself.
For a post in Sydney.
Six months with the possibility of tenure thereafter. It is all very short notice but it’s a dream job. Erna must consider carefully of course. Take all the time she needs.
So long as it’s less than a week.
* * *
—
Lindemann Auto is the Swiss version of one of those places where they take street cars and turn them into race cars. They will put skis under your running boards so you can drive your SLK across a lake. They will turn your Bentley into a boat they will—they will secret agent your shit right up. But they will also just maintain your nice car for a lot of money. Hans Eiger brings his car here because it is the best engine place in Europe and only Magnus Lindemann himself is permitted to work on it.
Turns out Magnus has a son and the son is called Otto and Otto is a solo cellist.
And by end of day Otto has just been booked to play a single concert in Beijing but there is a requirement that his father personally introduce him on the stage.
Magnus doesn’t have to be asked twice because family.
Gosh this would just be an awful time for Hans Eiger’s car to break down.
“Hello Mr. Telemark welcome to the Commodore how can we assist you?”
“Well to be honest—to be honest I have been sleeping in the Black House and at an agricultural building I have recently acquired and it feels—how can I put this—it feels obvious.”
“I see.”
“It is obvious because I am a countercultural person. I am an Ambiguitionist I specialize in tearing down the world’s certainty.”
“Yes quite so.”
“I am concerned that I have—to be candid—that I have allowed people to become comfortable with who I am to think that they know me by my dress and style by my very disrespectability. And so…I am going to change my mode.”
“And you wish—”
“I wish to stay here at the Commodore for the next two weeks. I will requi
re accommodations for five persons two of whom will share a suite.”
“That is quite in order—”
“I also have some vehicles we will need to park here and—how are your relationships with local restaurants?”
“They are excellent—all this is quite—perhaps you could provide me with—”
“Ah of course let us say a cash payment in advance and of course here is a credit card for your security—”
“Oh I note that it is—”
“Yes indeed there is in fact no limit on that one.”
“Welcome to the Commodore, Herr Doktor Telemark, and may I say I have always admired your unique and penetrating formulation of the artistic experience please inform the staff of any requirement you may have.”
“Herr Telemark?”
“Yes what can I—oh.”
“Herr Banjo Telemark of Valletta, presently resident at the Black House and the Bauernhof Müller?”
“Well gosh you gentlemen are strikingly official.”
From behind me Agent Hannah says: “That is because they work for me Mr. Telemark.”
“How excellent madame but I do not believe we have—oh wait you are friends with the mother of the sex-pervert child?”
Agent Hannah twitches just a little.
“The boy is blameless, Herr Telemark, as you must be aware.”
“Madame I know nothing of the matter I was not witness to it but I do eagerly await its fullest explanation to the satisfaction of all parties concerned now if you will excuse me—”
“I would really like to talk to you, Banjo Telemark.”
“Well that would be lovely I am sure but I am working right now.”
“This is how artists work?”
“Yes my practice is of its nature quite ludic.”
“Does the name Jack Price mean anything to you Herr Telemark?”
“Why yes of course he is a renowned international criminal terrorist famous for cunnilingus.”
“I—what?”
“What what?”
“You said he was famous for what?”
“Cunnilingus. Apparently it is a thing with him. I read where it is all he does when he is not engaged in acts of terroristic mayhem. He is obsessed with the act with the close engagement of lips and sex organs with the whisper the moan the gasp the slow gathering rhythm and the exhortations and the grip of hand in hair and shoulders on wide thighs. It is his calling, his service, his hunger for the sudden unexpected wonder at the edge and then the thrashing and engorgement and the gathering thunder of the heart and the fractured awareness of inexorably approaching climax and finally with the absolute rigidity of ecstasy and the single poised moment in which all things are beautiful. In that way as with his horrible acts of senseless violence for money he is an artist.”
“…Oh.”
“Yes.”
“Where ahem where did you read this precisely?”
“I frequent the Internet madame it is known.”
“It is?”
“In certain circles insofar as one can believe anything.”
“Is there ah is there any more information? Of a useful nature?”
“I despise utility I am an artist.”
“Of course.”
“However I believe it is possible that his lover the Professor is—”
“The Doctor—”
“Is that not a character in a bourgeois British television program?”
“That—no—well—I quite like—”
“The Doctor then as you say she is apparently possessed of deviant attitudes and strange lusts also involving drugs and electricity. Certain of my colleagues speculate that they take lovers together I believe the term is delta. But it would almost certainly be fatal to be the amusement of two such people.”
“No doubt—”
“Fatal but I venture delicious thus caught between fear and anticipation in an arena where shared pleasure is life. The desperation. The permitted and desired violations of norms. The slow galvanic spark. The—”
“No thank you I—no I am sure I can read that later not that I will require that detailed a—”
“One never knows what may be critical in a work of art, madame. Thus you may profit by knowing of the vile yet astonishingly accomplished sexuality of these monsters, just as I have made it a practice to meet denizens of the demimonde where I can find them and it may not surprise you to know that such folk gossip like old people at a café table. Thus the cunnilingus of Jack Price is a topic of endless fascination of course but—I mean for example did you know that the head of the FIS’s illegal assassination section is presently having an affair quite unsanctioned and unprofessional with the Dutch ambassador to Madrid?”
“No! I know Madame de Jong from her time in Bern that is quite remarkable—you’re not serious—”
“I assure you it is the talk of the underworld this season and has been since the pornography festival at Cannes when they were caught on a certain yacht—”
“O I believe I heard something about that but I had thought it was just a rumor—”
“I KNOW it’s so completely—”
Agent Hannah draws closer and her hand lands on my shoulder like old friends like confidential chat like that. I take a breath and I can smell her. The vinyl holster the automatic the herbal deodorant and sweat the whisper of lipstick grease. I know what she would taste like if I put her in my mouth. I know because these tiny particles I am smelling are also on my tongue we are within one another now already as we have been since the fight.
I hear her breathe in and I know she is tasting me too.
I do not randomly lick the agent of the Swiss Federal Investigative Task Force known as the Einsatzgruppe JONAS because that is not how professionals do.
One of the other agents makes a little noise like are we interrupting his fucking important thoughts and Agent Hannah scowls at me like this whole thing is my fault.
“Herr Telemark that is not germane. What of substance do you know of Jack Price?”
“Nothing of substance, I suppose. He was reported dead a few days ago I saw it in the paper.”
“I believe you are lying to me.”
“Then you too are living in my art. To be honest it can be lonely.”
“Jack Price is not dead.”
“Found art. Ambiguity is wonderful.”
“I know that he is not dead because I saw him alive. I almost captured him but he escaped me. Now I am to believe he subsequently bled out.”
“But you don’t?”
Agent Hannah says: “Be seeing you—Herr Telemark.”
“And may I know your name?”
Agent Hannah looks into my eyes and then away and she says:
“Yes. I think you may. And if it should turn out that you see Jack Price—if he is alive—do be so kind as to tell him to get out of my country or I will put him beyond the opportunity to practice his skills. All of them.”
Agent Hannah turns and walks away into the Bern evening and the flunkies go with her.
Well shit.
* * *
—
The next morning is golden in Bern and the natural world sings in the trees and although the anarchists have done their thing the cycle of life continues because in the pits on the far side of the river the bears are fornicating as bears do. They are not real discreet about it.
GNARR! GNARRK HRONK! WHUF WHUF WHUF HRONK!
Go at it bear fuckers. Raise the roof.
The world turns and no doubt that is nice but I am working. I am working with my modern butchered consumer electronics and my anarcho-socialist ice kobold security to do crimes.
There are places on the interwebs where good children do not go. One of these places is called G-Bread. Do not ask me why it is called G
-Bread. It is because of the witch’s cottage in the fairy tale. These people are deep into their dark-fantasy-lifestyle choices much of their technological security revolves around magic circles and naked chanting. Mr. Friday and Mr. Dory look at this place the way a consultant ENT guy looks at you putting a paper clip in your ear to scrape the wax out.
No but seriously do not put that shit in your ear it is not okay.
So in consequences of some poor admin decisions and a lack of basic competence, G-Bread is where you commission bored Chinese kids to run DNS attacks on your neighbor’s email and then because the whole place leaks like a slug’s asshole you go to jail. No sensible criminal person would ever go to G-Bread but I guess not every terrorist is a fucking ghost mastermind like in the movies so maybe they do.
Never do crimes on G-Bread.
But just like a nude masterpiece hidden under a crappy picture of a vase, so there is something under G-Bread. If you enter the wrong password three times and you remove the numbers from the end of the resultant URL you get sent to another place and if you enter the right password there you’re in Halcyon, and Halcyon is the place where your ENT guy goes to get laid with ophthalmologists.
Dirty dirty dirty ophthalmologists.
Not literally but that could also be arranged on Halcyon.
On Halcyon I have posted an offer: If you commit any serious crime anywhere in the world and publicly identify yourself as Jack Price you can claim an extra ten thousand dollars.
If someone is arrested in the commission of such a crime and you free them with violence you can claim one hundred thousand dollars.
If you are a member of the law enforcement community and you free them you can claim seven million four hundred and eighty-one thousand nine hundred and forty-one dollars from a total remuneration pot of one hundred million dollars.
If you can supply evidence of someone gaming the system you get a full ten million dollars on presentation of their polished skull on a stick.
I did not want to be too forward about this so I have used Sharkey’s login information and his bank account that seems only fair because I did try really hard not to explode his balls and it’s not like he had any descendants other than those formerly resident as potential in said balls. At least not that I know of but actually he probably did and I make a note to put someone on that.