The Girl with the Pearl Herring. Part 8

“Jake, Jaaaay-aaaake.” Black eye said, warily watching Jaques’ hands.

“It is pronounced ‘Jock’, but with a semi-soft J,” Jaques  explained pedantically.

“That's what I said,” Black Eye said triumphantly, “Jaaaaay-aaaaaaaake”

“It’s JAQUES." Jacques said in his coldest voice, “ta mère avait-elle des enfants qui vivaient?” (did your mother have any children who lived)

With that Jaques stood up and flowed into action. He quickly stepped inside Black Eye’s guard and gave him a series of punches, deceptively gentle, ending with a gentle chop to the man’s neck. Lincoln, who had returned from the ice machine,  recognized the Kenpo Kaji technique and was pleasantly surprised to see the soft, precise series of strikes. Then, stepping through the open door, he realized the strikes had done nothing. Swearing in three or four different languages, JAQUES quickly and deliberately repeated the pattern of strikes. It led to an even worse result than the first series.  The first series had done nothing, the second series earned JAQUES a fist to the face. The punch knocked him to a seated position on his bed.

“Ayoshka, chingada mariposa, Húndàn!” JAQUES exploded in Russian, Spanish, and Cantonese. He rose effortlessly  from his bed and shook his head. Drops of blood from his nose splashed the shirt of his assailant. When Jaques giggled, his opponent put his hands up in some sort of martial arts stance. Lincoln started to move away from the door, toward the fight, but was curtly motioned back by JAQUES. Lincoln shrugged, crossed his arms, and leant against the door jamb.

JAQUES , giving up all semblance of style, grace, and subtlety, took one full step towards his opponent simultaneously punching him full in the face before he could react. Black Eye’s one good eye rolled up, and he settled into a breathing heap on the floor.

“Break your hand doing it that way,” Lincoln observed.

“Yeah well, he pissed me off.” Jaques said, wiping blood off his upper lip,  “You know what Fairbairn said.”

I do indeed,” Lincoln replied, in admiration, “I am surprised, by now I shouldn't be, but I am surprised you do.”

“Big Library, no TV.” was the only answer he got.

“You done messed up a-A-Ron” Jaques said to the limp body on the floor and was surprised to hear an honest laugh from behind him, Lincoln had caught the reference.

They walked, stiffly, to what in Canada would be called a depanue for frozen vegetables. Two pounds of frozen garbanzo beans in a bag, a pound brick of Birds Eye peas and a half pound bag of ‘Asian medley’ later, Jaques and Lincoln were icing down their minor injuries and snacking on cold peas. Lincoln broached the subject.

“So, the Kenpo Kano, that was really well done, except for the not working part, where did you learn?”

“Whelp,” started JAQUES. He coughed, took a swallow of water, and continued, “whelp I had read about it in a book, I thought it sounded really cool so I decided to learn. Since I didn’t know any senseis who taught it, strike that, I didn’t know any senseis at that time, YouTube it was. I found a ton of videos, but I finally settled on one I liked. I watched it a few times then built a strike dummy in my kitchen out of my office chair, golf clubs, towels, and sandbags. I must have watched that video a hundred times in the next week.  When I wasn’t watching I was practicing, when I wasn't practicing, I was watching. I practiced and watched, all day, half of the night, for a week straight. I broke all my golf clubs, scuffed the fuck out of my kitchen the floor. The bottle says any scratch will buff right out. My ass it does. So goodbye security deposit, hello linoleum.”

Jaques rearranged the frozen vegetables over his nose and ate another handful of peas.  He continued,

“Anyway, every time I watched the video I really liked the part where the guy with the knife is so out of it it looks like he is looking around with his eyes, classic.”

Lincoln looked to his left to see if JAQUES was having him on, it was impossible to tell.

“So there I was, “JAQUES said, “master of a new technique. But, as that jabroni,” he pointed toward black Eye, “demonstrated, YouTube-fu is useless. No matter what Neo says.”

“Does your, ah, your backup style have a name?” Asked Lincoln?

“It started as Gutter Fighting, but evolved into ‘Angry swan’. Swans make a Canada Goose look like a UN Peacekeeper who is out of ammo.”

“Swans will do that,” said Lincoln, “Any goose, any time; except for Frederic, he is awesome.  I’ll have to introduce you some day.”

“You named your goose Frederic?” asked Jaques, “you don't get to say I’m weird ever again. What's next?”

“We get the gold back to M’sure Du Puis,” said Lincoln, and then we are off.  I want to see Hadrian's Wall, how does London for a week sound?”

“Better than here,” said Jaques, “let's go get some gold.”