The Girl with the Pearl Herring. Part 1

 

     The rain had gotten heavier.  Nothing bad, just the drops of dew got larger and larger until they started to fall.  There had been a light drizzle when Jaques and Lincoln arrived at their chosen ambush spot.  As they waited the rain fell.  Jaques was wearing a Barbour waxed cotton jacket in the original green, he had removed the fleece lining a few weeks ago, France being wet but not particularly cold.  Jaques felt a damp spot forming in the elbow of his left arm and he made a mental note to re-wax the jacket.  The parts that moved and folded always ran thin quickly he thought.

     Lincoln, on the other hand, was clad in a far more modern Patagonia Jacket.  It was some miracle fiber, and had a hood.  Jaques could not see Lincoln, but he knew he was dry and very very still; this was not the first rodeo for either man, and both knew the risks of movement.

     Jaques Ford and Lincoln Hayes had met in Denmark. Both of them were there for the Odensa Goose Parade.  Neither man remembered why they had started talking only that they had, and it went well enough to exchange names.  Jaques had introduced himself as Roland, and without missing a beat Lincoln had introduced himself as VanOerner.  They both chuckled, and the friendship started.  Lincoln Drove, he said he loved driving, didn't get to do much of it when he was growing up, and he liked the finest automobiles.  It was his wish, he would say, to drive a Nissan Skyline on the Autobahn like in some book he had read.

Jaques was happy enough to ride.  He had seen enough of the road from behind a wheel, and enjoyed looking out the window at flowers.  He had told Lincoln that he and his mother had a garden growing up and he liked flowers. As they left the hotel, Jaques stepped around a car parked in front.

“My My, that’s a nice car innit?” he murmured appreciatively, “what is it?”

Jaques went to walk around the dark gray 4 door machine outside the hotel door Lincoln answered

“That, Silent Walrus, is a Volvo S60. It is my, *ahem* whip.”

“Wow,” said Jaques, “I had a Volvo once. I hate to say it but I think it might have been nicer than this.”

“Really? The S90?” Asked Lincoln.

“Nope,” said Jaques, “I had an ‘87 240 station wagon named Sven.”

“You got me you sonofabitch,” chuckled Lincoln, “and yes that WAS a fine automobile. Now get in.”

Jaques walked to the right side of the car and waited for the wireless chirp. When he opened the door the smell of leather came out. He saw butter soft mahogany leather, each headrest tastefully embroidered with a large L, the steering wheel, and the drivers seat. He stood confused, then realized it was a right hand drive car. He walked around the front and got in the passenger seat as Lincoln slid into what Jaques thought of as the pilot's seat.

“What's your middle name?” he asked.

“I could tell you,” started Lincoln, “but….”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jaques cut him off, “but then you would have to dress me up like a Nazi and beat me with a warm squash.”

Lincoln’s chuckle blended in with the sound of the Direct Injected Turbocharged engine powering up. As they drove south, towards the coast of France for a herring festival Jaques had heard about they became friends, and then good friends.  When Jaques ran low on money, Lincoln had no problems sharing his nice hotel rooms to which both men had become accustomed.

Lincoln was driving his leased (never buy. Never buy overseas, he said) Volvo s60 well, in control, and over the posted speed limit.  The joke was neither one understood metric and they thought that was miles per hour.

“Why Herring”? asked Lincoln.

“I dunno,” Replied Jaques. “I like it I guess, I never fished for it myself, and this town seems to be pretty excited about it.  Besides, we have to go somewhere. Next year you can find us a trout festival to attend.”

“Fair enough,” Lincoln adjusted the volume, “just wasn't sure if it was some kind of spirit animal or something personal.”

“Oh no,” chuckled Jaques, “my spirit animal is far from a herring”

“Oh? What is it?” Lincoln asked, genuinely curious.

Jaques made no reply because a McLaren 720s flew past them, it was painted in what had to be custom gold.

“Would you look at that?” Said Lincoln, “that's a Mclaren 720s.”  And both men made sounds of approval and admiration. The color, they both agreed it was a sin against the Greek Orthodox church.