LINCOLN

 

"Etta!"

Norma was running around the edge of the pool with a flashlight in her hand.

"She's not here!" I called over to her. "I've checked every room in the house."

"Are you sure?"

"I've checked them all twice!"

Over the last half an hour, when the sun set and the temperature fell, we knew for certain that something was wrong. She'd been gone for hours now without a single item on her, no phone, money, keys, water...

That was the thing that worried me the most. It had been the most scorching day since we arrived. I wouldn't let a dog walk the streets thirsty in this weather let alone her.

My only hope was that she'd struck up a friendship somewhere and was safe and indoors. The house and the surrounding gardens may have been a paradise but the town of San Lucrezia was dangerous at night. I'd heard the gun shots and felt the distant rumbling of cars speeding through the night. I’d heard the rumors.

Now, standing in the darkness at the edge of the house with the pool shimmering beneath the moonlight, it finally hit me. She wasn't here and that seemed so horribly wrong that my chest felt as though it was being held in a vice grip.

A lump formed in my throat and I tried to swallow it down but it wouldn't budge.

"Have you checked the attic?" shouted Norma.

"I've checked everywhere!"

She circled the pool once more than stood beside me, shining her flashlight into the bushes as though somehow, Etta would be standing amongst them.

"What's going on?" she asked. "I can't lose her... Not after.. I just... can't."

She burst into tears and held her head in her hands. I wrapped an arm around her and stifled the urge to cry.

"We'll find her," I said. "I promise. She'll be nearby. Probably turn up soon and wonder what all the fuss was about.”

But that sounded so hollow and my words hung limply in the air, empty and useless.

"Where could she be?" sobbed Norma.

I rubbed her back and looked out toward the lights of San Lucrezia. I didn't know what could be worse for her, the town or the desert.

"I'll go look," I said.

"Where?"

I didn't know but for some reason, something was pulling me back toward the town, to the bar that had caused me so much trouble the night before.

"Stay here," I said.

"No way, I'm coming with you."

"Please, Norma. I won't be long."

She pursed her lips and nodded.

"You'll find her won't you?"

"I did that last time, didn't I?"

~

I stood outside the bar and listened to the music. It was annoying me already, reminding me of last night. How could so much have changed in so little time? How could things go so wrong?

For a second, I stood at the front door and peered in. Unlike last night, the bar was crowded with people. The smell of sex, sweat and liquor was thick in the air.

As I walked in, I was aware of a flurry of whispers. People were looking, I could feel each of their stares on me but I didn't care. I was used to being conspicuous. There were even times when I enjoyed it.

"Bosworth..." I heard someone say behind my back.

I kept walking, my eyes on the bar straight ahead.

"Billionaire American," someone hissed.

As I approached the bar, I waited to see those rosebud lips again and see that devil tattoo. My stomach was flipping with the thought of seeing her again. She had the ring, and I wasn't leaving without it.

But as I pressed myself up against the bar, pushing disgruntled customers out the way as I leaned right over, I soon realized that Lolita wasn't there. But her cousin was.

He recognized me right away and gave me a pretend salute.

"Yo, homie. You were here last night. You left with Lol."

He was laughing as though this was something he'd said plenty of times before.

"Yeah, she's not here?"

He shrugged and raised his palms up toward the ceiling.

"You came back for her?" he asked.

"Actually I came back to look for my girlfriend."

He shook his head and began cleaning a nearby glass.

"Some guys, eh?"

He slid a beer across the counter toward me and shouted over to an older guy at the end of the bar.

"Yo, Marcus! I'm taking a smoke break."

The older guy grumbled something back in Spanish and the boy rolled his eyes.

Outside, he offered me a cigarette and I took it, rolling it in my fingers for a long while as I listened to him take in a deep breath of smoke.

"So you're looking for your girlfriend. There are no women in this bar, not ones you're looking for anyway."

"Maybe someone's seen her around. This place is the center of the town, right? Everyone knows everyone."

He smiled and leaned back against the wall. Behind him, some of the plaster crumbled and fell over the back of his black shirt.

"Yeah everyone knows everyone and everyone knows you went home with Lol."

"That bitch is trouble," I said and he laughed.

"Yup!"

He breathed smoke out through his nostrils and looked up at the stars.

"So your girlfriend left you?"

"I don't think so," I said.

"But here you are, looking for her."

"It's complicated."

"Aren't all relationships?"

He handed me a lighter and I pressed the flint into the palm of my hand, eager to feel some sort of pain to distract myself from my racing thoughts.

"Look, I'll cut to the chase," I said. "Something's not right. She's gone and I think something's happened."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Like what?"

"Like... I don't know."

"Like someone kidnapped her?" he asked.

There was a strange quality to his voice, like he'd been waiting to say those words and they were finally tumbling out to his relief.

"Why would you say that?"

"Oh, I dunno."

The color in his cheeks deepened.

“Why did you say that? Tell me.”

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and kicked the ground.

“Just happens round here a lot. That’s all.”

“But why her?”

His gaze remained on the ground but his eyes were glazed over as though he was remembering something. He looked haunted, his eyes darkening the longer he stared.

“Because you have money,” he said at last.

His words jolted through me.

“Someone kidnapped her for money?”

“I didn’t say that!”

I grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him up against the wall.

“Bastard! You know what’s happened to her!”

“I don’t know a thing. I swear!”

His legs were dangling, his youthful, bony body feeling so light and fragile beneath my hands. I was so angry I could have crushed him to dust but I needed him. He knew things.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not!”

“But you think she was taken for money.”

He closed his eyes and began to cry childish tears that fell from his chubby cheeks in great blobs.

“Okay, okay. Put me down. I don’t know much but I’ll tell you what I do know.”

I released my grip and he stumbled as his feet landed on the floor.

“You’ve got one minute,” I said.

He rubbed his eyes and looked up at me. Last night he was just another young lover in search of romance. Now, I could see just how young he was.

“There are bad people in this town Mr. Bosworth and when you showed up… Well, that was like a dream to some people.”

"What people?"

His eyes widened.

"What people!"

He gulped and ran a hand through his greasy hair.

"The people who run this town but..."

I was losing what little patience I had left and pressed him back up against the wall. His shoulder was so frail beneath my hand, like he was made of birds' bones.

"There are people in this town, Mr. Bosworth and they're dangerous. You don't want to get involved with them. You don't!"

"But I am involved with them. They have Etta."

He began to shake. I could feel his sweat sinking through his shirt. I took a step back and let him breathe. He was just a child.

"I need to know everything," I said. "Now.Right now."

He poked his head through the door and signaled oved to the old man at the bar. They yelled at each other for a moment, the old man obviously angry at the boy.

"Come with me," he said. "But hurry. I don't have long."

~

We walked down the main street, the sounds of partying ricocheting off the ancient buildings. If it was any other night, it would have been perfect. Just to wander the streets in the warm air being serenaded by the sounds of laughter and love and music. But it was no perfect night.

Once again, I felt as though my nerves were being shredded. For the third time, I was certain I was never going to see her again. But at the same time, I was energized by the need to find her. It was as though everytime we were pulled apart, it was my destiny to return her to safety. The powers that be were testing us somehow. If only they would stop.

"Okay, just up here," said the boy.

He led me up an alleyway where the dim light faded completely until there was nothing to guide us but the sound of our own footsteps. They echoed off the tiles until they gave way and I was suddenly aware I was walking on earth.

At the end of the alley, something caught my eye; a flickering light, a beacon of safety. As we approached, I saw it was a solitary candle stuffed into a wine bottle on a doorstep. Now I could see we were outside a house, a small house that was little more than a hut with a corrugated iron roof. The door had no hinges. It was barely even a door at all.

Still, there was something endearing about it. As I looked in the window, I could see a table littered with coffee cups and cigarette ends. More candles and no electricity. There was the smell of something sweet in the air and the feeling that to this boy, this was home.

He knocked on the door once then pushed it open as he waved me inside.

"Pap!"

There was a grunt from somewhere inside.

"Pap!"

Another grunt, this time angrier.

Once inside, I realized the house was smaller than it looked and with three of us inside, it was cramped. An old man lay sideways across an armchair. Beside him was a mattress with a thin, red sheet and girly magazines piled at the end. It must have been the boy's bed.

"Pap. I brought someone to see you."

The old man opened one eye, saw the two of us standing in front of him and woke up in an instant. He pulled himself up straight and smoothed his hand down the front of his shirt.

"Lincoln Bosworth!"

Jesus, did everyone know who I was?

"What have I done to deserve such an honor?"

He grabbed my hand and shook it violently. I could feel callouses on the insides of his fingers. His face was heavily lined and deeply bronzed but there was still a hint of youth in his eyes.

"Pap, this man is in trouble," said the boy.

"Ah, nonsense, Carlos. Men like this don't get in trouble."

"No, listen. Please..."

He stared up at his dad with pleading eyes.

I could sense the old man wanted to burst into a tirade of Spanish but kept up his English for my benefit.

"Pap, his girl is missing."

The old man froze, his hand still clamped around mine.

"Missing?"

"Missing," said Carlos. "He thinks something has happened."

He narrowed his eyes and squeezed my hand tighter.

"You think I know what has happened," he said with a sigh and finally let go of my hand.

I rubbed at my crushed fingers which were still pinched together and bright red like a lobster's claw. The old man had some strength in him.

"You better sit down..."

Looking around, I saw nothing but a stool with a broken leg propped up against the table. I perched on the edge and hoped it would hold my weight.

"Oh, where are my manners?" said the old man and flung up his arms. "My name is Ramos."

I didn't care what his name was. I just wanted him to start talking.

"Yes, Ramos. Just like my father and his father and..."

"And you know where my Etta could be?"

He sat on the arm of his chair and pulled off his glasses to give them a wipe before sliding them back over his hairy ears.

"I don't know a thing," he said. "But I could guess."

I was getting more frustrated by the second and found myself leaning over and grabbing at the old man's arms with my nails digging into his leathery skin.

"You need to tell me everything."

"I will," he said. "But first... Wine."

He pulled a bottle of cherry wine out from under the table and my stomach lurched.

"No," I said. "I mean no thanks. No cherry wine."

"It is a favorite around here."

"I noticed."

He shrugged and poured me a glass anyway before thrusting it into my hand.

"So tell me. What is a man like you doing down here alone, no security, just you and those two beautiful women up there in that big house?"

I froze, my grip around the glass tightening until a droplet of sweat dripped down the side.

"You know a lot about me."

"Everyone does. You're quite the man of mystery. We may live in the middle of nowhere but we read the news just like your American folk back home. We've heard the stories about you. Your inventions.Your... problems with the police. Your... money."

He knocked back his wine in one go, slammed his glass down on the table and filled it back up.

"Why be alone up there in that house?" he asked.

"I... have a problem with letting strangers into my life."

He smiled. I couldn't tell if he was amused or sympathized with me.

"Stupid man," he said.

"Fucking excuse me?"

He leaned in close to me until I could smell his sweat.

"You've made a mistake. People have been watching you."

"Look, cut the shit. I need to know what happened to Etta and everyone speaks in fucking riddles around her. Tell me what you know."

He remained silent with a smirk curling up his thin lips.

"Tell me!"

I threw my wine at him, the glass smashing on the wall behind him. The whole house shook but neither he or his son moved an inch. They weren't scared of me. In this town, no one appeared to be afraid of anything.

Ramos wiped the back of his hand down his face then licked the wine from his fingers. His shirt was stained pink, his pants soaked through but he didn't flinch, didn't even raise his voice. He just kept smirking like a mad man, licking the wine from his skin like his own hand was the juiciest fruit.

"You love her, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

His smile dropped. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat a few inches from my face. I could hear the sound of the wine dripping from his clothes onto the makeshift wooden floor. It began to create its own rhythm and I closed my eyes for a moment, listening to it.

"You ever hear of the Knights Templar?" asked Ramos.

I opened my eyes.

"What?"

"The Knights Templar."

"Are you fucking serious?"

I looked up to Carlos to see if he was in on the joke but his face was stern and serious.

"I'm serious," said Ramos. "And so are they."

What had I got myself into? Had the young boy brought me to the shithole shack of a rambling lunatic? Something in Ramos' eyes told me that whatever he was about to say, he believed every single word of it.

"Okay, right. The fucking Knights Templar, like those medieval knights that got executed by the pope for witchcraft and hid all this money. Whatever, we all know the Da Vinci Code."

Ramos erupted into laughter and slapped his wet thighs.

"Fiction," he said.

"Isn't it all?"

His laughter quickly stopped.

"No."

I was starting to think I was going mad. What in the name of hell was going on? Wherever Etta was, she wasn't here and this old guy knew shit. He was probably just having fun winding up the rich American with his stories.

"Look, buddy. I gotta get outta her and find her."

I stood up, the stool falling away beneath me. Once again, I could feel just how cramped the house was with the ceiling only an inch or so above my head.

"You won't find her if you don't know. I can help you."

"No thanks."

I made for the door but as I reached out for the handle, I felt a firm hand on my wrist.

"Don't go yet," said Carlos.

His fingers wrapped themselves around me tighter.

My head was telling me to bolt out the door and get back to the house. Maybe Etta had returned home already and she was already sat in front of the TV with Norma, hot chocolate in one hand and her phone in the other. She'd probably just laugh at me as I walked in and wonder where I'd been. We'd giggle over how I thought she was missing once again and how I'd been lured into the house of a crazy old guy who talked to me about ancient European knights.

My heart, on the other hand, was telling me to stick with Carlos. Something about his voice was urging me to stay or risk losing her forever. I looked down at my arm and saw his hand still grasping me, his own arm shaking with the effort.

"Okay, the Knights Templar," I said and turned round to face Ramos.

With his back turned to me, I could only see the silhouette of his body in the candle light as he lit a cigarette. The smoke rose to the ceiling and hung there like a toxic cloud.

"Many were persecuted, many died, but many survived. They fled as far as they could and took their secrets with them. Many went North and hid their treasure in the frozen mountains while others went south, hoarding their secrets beneath the scorching sands."

"And some came here?"

I didn't need to see his face to know he was smiling. I could hear it in his voice.

"Many came here and traded goods. They were masters of money and funded banks."

"And some brought magic," chimed in Carlos.

We all fell silent for a moment, my whole body throbbing as I waited to hear what else Ramos had to say.

"They're still here," said the old man. "They're modern knights. They battle for the streets, they fight for their money. They may not wear robes and carry swords but they are the sons of warriors and they know it."

Still, none of it was making any sense and Carlos watched my confused expression for a second before he said:

"They are gangs now and they run this town with drugs and violence."

"What the fuck?" was all I could say.

"Gangs," repeated Ramos. "They are rich and they own more than the government ever could. There isn't a house in this God forsaken town that doesn't boast relation to the great knights or the gangs they spawned centuries later."

He spun round to face me, still drenched in wine. With his cigarette tucked into his brown teeth, he raised his shirt sleeve inch by inch until I could make out a shape in black ink.

"Is that a..."

"Devil," said Ramos. "It is their emblem and-"

"You're one of them?"

The smirk returned to his face and he nodded.