:: ~  Eddy Jacobsen  ~ ::  ~

- storify -




                                   When a  shock is what it takes


 (The very early morning)

It is very early morning; time is just passing four o’clock  when there is a  knock on the door; softly; revealing somebody either shrewd cunning bastards or some humble being or beings – that there are  all too few of in this world changing to be more and more callous and cruel; thank to greedy politicians and  inconsiderate, selfish authorities and leaders of the world…where money is the potential and  yearning  stupidity…….(filling up the bank accounts; so the  worms will be pleased when digging on the flesh, I sarcastic think to myself, on the way to find out about the visitor or visitors, customers or intruders)


Peeping through the fish-eye  lens in the door, I see  silhouettes  of at least  four people tightly gathered in front of my door.


I open and ask how they had managed to get in the main entrance; as always  is closed……


Well, the newspaper-boy went out so we thought it a better ide to knock your door instead of using that noisy bell so  late at night….I mean so early in the morning


Yes, and you know what time it is, I commented carefully, not knowing what kind of errand these lot had in mind here, - at a time of sleep for normal people..


Two men and two women outside my door four o’clock in the morning; one of the women very young, I  stated as  I welcome them in to the morning nest..


One of the men, who has initiated the talk, continues saying sorry, sorry for the inconvenient time of the day…and hesitated again and again as he tried to continue his sentences……

Well, he said, this is a very difficult situation for all of us, and it is a very delicate situation as well, and, really,  I do not know where to start…  

Ok, take your time, and  relax, I make you all a nice cup of coffee while  you find a way to put forward  to me your story……..


I still do not know who is who of this flock, I think to myself, as I pour in five cups of coffee, by which one of the fives is a big one for  myself, needing to clear up  the shocking  wakening at this time of  morning…


Getting back to them I say, let’s   have a presentation of you all for a start…


Well,  he continues; the  man who has already spoken, and seems to resemble the other man, both in appearance and age… that turned out to be right.


That is my brother, he said, my twin brother…he adds, pointing to the other man at the same age, and she is his wife, pointing at the oldest of the women, and that is  their daughter, pointing at the young girl…one of  their three daughters…   he adds, with a sigh.


We have come to you because we have heard that you are an honest detective and also we have heard you are highly qualified and  clever........he continues in still a  way that he seems stressed and tens..

Yesterday, very late, he said, we had an  alarming phone call from an anonymous person, telling us that our next eldest, or next youngest – she is in the middle of three of  our daughters; he precisely detailed the family – daughter might have been involved  in  promiscuous  deeds.

Oh, my goodness; here we go again, I thought to myself; but obviously this one is a rather different story of the daughter having ended up in underworld activities; as I then would think of  it – so far.


Ok, I think I  comprehend all of the rest of your story; but I have no clue of the details, so the details you must supply me, and also where I  have my place in this  tale…..


(The worry) 

The  man, who is the uncle of the fallen soul,   continues to speak of his agony on behalf of his family; and the rest of them do not utter a word; they all seem very distressed and worried – and the mother shake her head again and again, and wipes away  tears running down her face; so does her husband, - and the sister is  tense  like a spring on  a vehicle; arms crossed before her breast and feet moving the typical way of signalizing she does not want to be  there, and definitely does not want to hear anything more of this  disgusting conversation…..


Now, her father gather himself and raises from his chair, starting to walk to and fro the window, and then turns to me and say: Please can you help us getting our daughter away from those filthy people; I still cannot believe that this is happening to us, and I still do not know if that is a truth of the facts, and  I cannot think of why such a thing would possibly has  happened to our sweet little angel……I am so shocked; so upset and so distressed and depressed over the information from the phone call…


She has only gone sixteen, and went to this city to study French as she wanted to go to  France and work  and practising the language..

For some time we have  had hints and stories about a very bad environment  in this city among the young students, but we have always just shook it off as nonsense……so, in a way we have heard; but we could not even imagine that that had anything to do we us, or our beloved daughter, not at all…there is no reason, no ground; she had had the best of rearing, and equally to her siblings…



I have noticed, though, since she has such a beautiful and warm-hearted character; always thinking  about anybody but herself, that she might be vulnerable  facing persons that are  not the best of the our kind….this is my pondering, only, that gradually has  creped hold of my thoughts recently, after this anonymous phone call..


What was that phone all about, then, you   have not told me yet…I interfere his more and more  angry voice as he speaks of this assumable  daughters losing control of her life, having certainly been  attacked by evilness of some kind, that later came to  light….but to no surprise for me at all….I have heard and seen that all too well before, in different circumstances, in different  environments.


She loved her   little sister, says her mother, not having said one word up till now,  casting her eyes to  her daughter; - now about 11.


She sobs a little as she speaks.

Obviously thinking of those beautiful tranquil family days where everything was in order, and comfort reciprocated  among them all……


She always used to have a picture of her little sister when the sister was  two years old; carrying it in her  purse always…….she sobs and   dries away small  tears running down her face………


An idea   strikes my mind; - from out of the blue……


Do you think she has a picture of her little sister now, I ask, noticing that   all of them look at me  a little surprised…..



Yes, of course says her uncle, and obviously had comprehended that I had start to make a plan….yes, definitely she has…but why..


Well, that is just a   business secret…..that you will get to know of at some stage later; I think.


More and more astonished they seemed now, but do not ask more question on that issue..


Oh, before you go, could you – if you have – write down my mailing address and send a copy of that picture your daughter carries on her…


Well, says the father……dwelling when thinking…..hand to cheek….looking at his wife; we do know the photographer who shot that photo, and if  I do not remember wrongly, photographers use to keep an archive of negatives for quite a long time…..

But, certainly, says now the little sister in question, not having uttered a word up till now, I think my cousin has that picture; I remember my sister made a photo copy of it and gave to her….


We will find out about that, says the father again, and send it to you..


Ok – what do you want me to do.


The three adults look at me, and the father sends me a very stern gaze, saying  not swerving his gaze;   Get her away from that crap; that filth; whatever it takes.

One can cut through his anger…..I   think to myself.


I look at him for a certain length of time and nod to him.


Please give me your phone number, I say to her uncle, and I will call you tomorrow.


The cost;   murmurs her father……looking at his brother…


Nothing is being replied in return, only nods and   eyes wandering between them…


Well, let us go now, and leave the  task to this man, says the father and indicates to the other  to leave…


We have a long way home, so it will be late till we get there……


That is why they dragged me here that early in the morning, speaks that little sharp thing, with a  teasing smile on her face towards me; a grab the chance and give her a swift hug…

We all shake hands to farewell…


Oh my God, I think to myself….I hate this situation; I hate to do this; but since they definitely have told me the truth and the their  massive worries of such a beloved  daughter, I  did not have the heart to decline…..


As I pour another cup of coffee, I start to make my  plan…


The shock is all it takes; the sentence hound me,  while I dress and make  myself ready to leave.

When I made my decision to commence  this task; was I a terrible man, I argue with myself, feeling a little curious of this young women…..on the way to the airport,  this argue about my own intention  accepting this task, cannot leave me alone one minute…..

Fuck you fantasises; I scream out load in the car as it stops at red light; - not noticing the girl in the car beside me, stopping simultaneously…..she is laughing  so much that she shakes inside her car; you shit, I think, you must have seen me screaming out load……was it so clearly….


Nonetheless, two more   minutes and I am in the parking  lot of the airport…..


My mind starts to work on the case, and I must have looked quite oblivious to a lot of  movements on the airport, as  other travellers, tells me to  consentrate….


What, what…..oh sorry, sorry, of course, yes……


You know, all those distractions when working with thoughts…


 (The plan)

On the plane I call the uncle, to the tremendous irritation of the flight attendance; who tells me not to use the phone on the plane…but I though it  had been  legalized lately to use the phone on planes, I said to my defence, knowing that there had been no conclusion on the issue yet……

You f. s. – I can clearly she moves her lips to tell me, as she takes away my empty glass of Coca Cola; I hate alcohol, so I never use it…..I think it is stupid and silly and preposterous and absurd to devour chemicals that make you drowsy; and even paying to get drowsy; no way, no thanks;

NOT for me!!!…..


I arrange with her uncle where to send the photos, he now has produced from his niece…..


Arriving at the hotel that has been booked for me online by my sister; I feel at strange mood and form…

I feel in a way sick of the approaching event; I feel disgusted and I feel frantic with anger towards that bloody woman pimp that has dragged their daughter into this dirty business….that was the easies part to find out; - some hotel staff never learn confidentiality,  I think to myself, but in this situation; - good for me….



Afternoon is closing in; and  it is pitch dark at five o’clock in this Polar city of the North of Norway.

It is Friday, and it is full swing in the nigh club at the hotel; the only night club that stays open till early morning.

Initially research has also made it much easier, finding out that the daughter  used to come here….also finding out that she does come here this very particularly  night….ending the session on the term at the university.

(Some times luck is better than senses; I   rebuking myself for not having though of such an important detail…of course you silly bastard, I silently shout to myself, you could have lost this change, since that is an upcoming  vacations for schools the next two weeks…..stupid; (it is very important to argue with oneself; very!!; it helps to sharpen the senses and moral).


Ready for taking off, my former always funny girlfriend would have   commented while leaving the room for this  disgusting mission of events…

No wonder she departed me for her   kids at  kinder gardens and later became a teacher; sweet, sweet, sexy, erotic Lisa.


(And the continuation is..:) 

Room service knocks on the door and comes in after I am shouting that door is unlocked….envelope for you.

Envelope, I utter in surprise; not a fax I continue….no,  envelope says the  head to chin  young Russian  woman staff (there are hundreds of them in this city; trying to fill up finance supplying the poverty back home), who hands me the envelope and utters some broken English words, that I did not have time to  interpret there and then, as I was so anxious to see that picture of the  “fallen daughter”, and the one of the two-year-old.


I open the envelope and clutch carefully the picture; and I  must have looked extremely surprised as the Russian girl staff couldn’t  resist emitting a short laugh, having been standing there with the door ajar, looking at me opening the envelope; - she swiftly shut the door with a click sound as it closes….you shit, are you all Russians spies; I think,  getting nearer to the lamp having a closer look at the daughter; whose name in this disclosure of a confidentially sad story; now long gone,  is Cecilie; -   most of it is forgotten anyway…


My goodness; this is not anybody; this girl – on the picture for obviously a photo event; she is so nicely dressed in all her finery making her looking  more a mature woman than a then 15-year old teen.

But where is her sister’s photography…

I check the envelope thoroughly again, and could not find it…..


As I grab the receiver on the phone to call reception, as there is the knock on the door again, and in comes the same Russian girl staff, after being told that the door is unlocked…and she carries a  innocent smirk on her face that tells another story that she is to tell me; she says; the messenger who brought the envelope returned and told us he had forgotten that he had two….

Oh, yes…..are you sure that is what it was….

She flushes and reveals that she told me a white lie; that I might try and find out later…


Oh my God, I utter  trying to  quell  my  voice….this is the angel that her sister might be carrying on her in this very moment as well; when she enters the club of sin for the night….no wonder she would keep the picture of her little sister on her…..how  angelic little girl….she was,  thinking when I saw her two days ago she had gone eleven; but still smashing.


Turning off the late night  BBC news, time is ticking to sin; I think in disgust and preposterousness.

I have already dressed in that stupid attire that I might have used last time when departing Lisa,  going to her marriage with her boyfriend she met when she was only 11;   -  now having several kids.

But it is in my plan for tonight, and I think to myself I will be so happy   throwing it away as soon as this is over, for two reason; this reason and the fact of the matter that I never used it anyway – I will give it to the first squatter  I come across; knowing very well that that squatter will never use it either, but sell it to get more alcohol to fill up the already too poisoned body.

That is a good contrast, murmuring  for myself,  leaving the door for the night club.


Two years might not have changed her that much, from the picture where she was 15; and she is actually not at all  allowed admission to the club not having come of age yet; but pimps know  how to deal with that sort of stuff; knowing ushers anywhere in this filthy branch.

Curious she was, I recollect her father’s  sentence, as he strived for composure revealing to me  family privacy that he should not wish he was compelled to do……having to give me information about his  daughter’s character.


I did not doubt it one  single   second!!!




There she was!!


(The woman pimp; the Coca Cola attack) 

Anxiously casting a gaze towards the other end of the smoke filled  rather large area of the club, two sets of floors,  and a  altar-like protruding section in each of the corners….lights already been dimmed for sins;  or real conciliation…

If she looks several time toward that corner, I think, then I am sure that that is the direction where her pimp is; but why the hell is she involved with a fucking pimp, looking like this….apprehension maybe;  threat rather more obvious…

And she does; she stare again towards the corner…

And now I see the crap sitting there….surrounded with  filth; males nobody would have touch for the prize of gold or  diamonds 

I would yearn to smash up that ugly face of that ugly demon, I think so hard, that I can see my hands are shivering…..the bar girl looks at me…..ok; she starts; yes!! I respond irritating…oh, sorry she says, no, no, don’t  be sorry I reply again, I am the one who are to be sorry very soon, deciding to flung that ugly face a  glass of Coca-Cola

I order two  glasses and decide to make some fun with the bitch….

Passing behind her back I just drop it on her  head and walk  quietly on….she rages and swearing,  that pimps are so very good at, and rises her ugly  late fifty year old body  and shout at me;

Hei you!!!!

 Did you fucking drop that glass in my fucking head….did you…no, no…I have my glass here, please here, I say and show her my “other” glass of Coca Cola that I needed for that event of attack on her..

Oh, sorry she say, glancing her evil yellowish cock-eyed eyes on me…..must be your fucking head I  say; my fucking head, she  repeats, are you nasty and rude,…..no you yourself said fucking head about your own head, don’t you remember?, don’t  you know what you are saying woman…you said fucking head  when your raised from the chair, so I though you might have a fucking head….

She sits her clumpsy body down, with a  disgusting gaze at me…..

Good-bye, then  I return to her stupid gaze at me, with a silly nod, and leave for the inner circle of the floor; in the middle is a dancing space some five metres across….

I find myself an vantage point chair and  sit down,  now feeling quite good, enjoying that two glass operation…that stupid cow actually did believe me in my  fabricated innocence….


OK – so where is the target; I think to myself, using such a word about  a living person….but target she is, to me this night; and what else can I  call her….

I am on my mission on order to target her….to get to her, in one way or the other…


And with those hundreds of  randy males here tonight I think is going to be “the term”: one way….

I cannot see her for the moment…but I am certain she will appear again, - I can also just look at the  Dark-Tower; the ugly pimp, to find out.

Her fucking head, as she called her own head, is constantly turning…..looking for another prey, and her slave…or slaves; there might be several of them…certainly…

Controlling every steps they take; her slaves and her preys..


This is what the hell must look like; I think to myself…..


Like history tells us about the Romans  abuse  of innocent citizens; the Gladiators; the  dictators – Hell; simply…


Of course, wouldn’t  I have thought so, that scum has henchmen in her stable…so now it is going to be  quite a different case as planned; - what the heck can I do now…

I just found out she had been notified of  “somebody would like to talk to her” this night; that my be the same source as the  phone caller to her home, maybe…


As I sit in deep contemplation and consideration of another angel of attack, the Russian girl staff stumbles in to the bar whispering something to the bar staff and returns out the door again…

Of course; she is my  rescuer just know….I just need to get some assistance from her, otherwise the whole mission is lost.

She is seventeen, and just grabbing her, as might will be as well, is really not legal; the scum could exploit it and claim kidnap; - and  definitely those scum has a total control over her.

(In this cover-name she is hence, Cecilie…)

I  notify her uncle;  he is being told to come tomorrow,  and  told to check in early to the hotel not running the risk  to be recognized  by her.

Or rather stay in another hotel till my signal to him to turn up is being sent him.


(Poor Girl) 

Poor girl I think, on my way to find the Russian girl staff, -  the crap has totally grabbed her self-esteem, also.

The story I make up for the Russian girl staff, is totally insane; I tell her that she needs to help me to make a deal with   Cecilie; telling her that I am a very rich man from  Australia, and she can forget about the tariff  she is order to charge from the scum, as in my case there is no limit and I need her for  two consecutive days on end.

Why is she so important for you, the Russian girl staff’s curious mind (suppose all of them are more  less like that in her country) keep questioning me…saying in low voice; you know that what she does here, you know that, yes….she keeps saying to me….but accept my mad story as a very sad one. And the story goes; (the fairytale: My own daughter who resembles her to such a degree that she could have been her twin sister, but she died in a plane crash in New Zealand, and I was so surprised when I say a person so utterly equal, so I really, really need to be together with her for a couple of days, to nurture the memory with such an equal girl by appearance…)

There is no need of promiscuity, to put it that way – just staying together would be very pleasant……..ok, ok, ok….she hesitates……but don’t forget  that that woman….you mean pimp….I swiftly add….yes, that thing; that ugly thing in there; she continues avoiding the word pimp……don’t forget what, you were to start to say something….yes, do not forget that that thing in there is dangerous….meaning??? I nod to her…..meaning that there are torpedoes involved if their income is threatened…

Aren’t you a cute girl……..knowing so much and having so much regard for me…I  comment to her while on leaving her to her  stealth operation.

What are you doing in Norway anyway; not many of your nationality are granted leave  visa…..I mean by your own immigration….well, she says…..looking now very sharply at me; I think….I think…..she starts…..I think you  know…..I mean I think you are too inquisitive…yes.

I am not; but you look too intelligent to be working like what you do here……….intelligence is not needed for that sort of work; not that intelligence……


Well, so what…I mean when are you available for her service??


We had a thoroughly consideration of the arrangement, giving her  tips in plenty; getting myself ready for changing appearance, hoping she will  not recognize me, now since she had received order not to deal with me – from  her boss; the pimp.


The plan I think is very safe, and no suspicion   will be raised.


Just  sit waiting now for the knock on the door, I resign myself to time, leaning my elbows on the lap-top – feeling sure that that Russian girl staff easily   can persuade anybody to anything; a real sharp thing I feel quite certain that she having done certain tasks before….


Time is ticking silently and ominously away one hour, two hours……and I most have catnapped, as I am pulled to my senses by the  softly knock, knock, knock on the door; this  style of knocks  sounded very familiar, I though, forgetting about it in the same second, as I went to open……

There   she was; – the Russian girl staff,  was as clever as I thought.

Her hair tells me  a disgusting story; so does her eyes and her voice when she speaks those few words of  a way to say  hello…

As I shut the door  behind her; she  starts to undress….

What are you doing I tell her?

I undress; don’t   you want to fuck me, she says in the most stupid way any stupid   utterance can be uttered by a totally  innocent being.

Her   phrase was so disgusting to listen to  the way she said it, because I knew it was an embedded phrase, being  rehearsed on over and over……this innocent 17-year-old awfully beauty is taking such disgusting words in her mouth….

It was like hearing a child being told to swear to its father……I would   resound the same way, I thought…

When evil meets innocence…..is the sentence that is now reverberating in my ears and mind…

Or rather when innocence meet evil, because this is what it is….with all its callous, insensitive and despicable   disgust.

Oh, come on; I want it in style; not this filthy way you present yourself; - go  to the bathroom and   undress and put on this   evening coat….

I bought it just for you, as a memory of me…


Memory of you, why the fuck do you need me to remember you, she goes on with total stupid words that does not belong to her at all…

Oh, yes you would love to wear it in future, just you wait and see..


She looks at me in totally dismay


You are mad, I think she says in a harmless way….just like those words one fling out in the blue between   associates…


As she is about to go to the bathroom, she turns and say; oh, you actually look like the chap in the night club that I was told to stay away from………….

To stay away from, I ask,  by whom where you told that…

Oh, you know, my some kind of mother; Mother, I  tell her in controlled disbelieve; Is your mother here, does she know what you are doing…

Not my,  mother-mother, but I said some kind of mother.....

What is some kind of mother, I continue, trying to make her saying in it in clear words that she is a slave in a stable of the ugly pimp, hoping to catch it on the tape recorder, that has been on since I opened the door.

But she has also been instructed not to mention her, I suppose, - she hesitates, looking at me – again and again….

You are the chap in the night club!!! I can see it now….

No, no it must be my brother who always use to go to that night club, I  reply to her, now being  afraid that she would be scared of  thinking of the the pimp and run away..

But she swallows my blatant lies, and goes into the bathroom.


(The shock)


Oh, my God,  I think, now feeling tense and very unpleasant for what will be coming…


I put the picture of her little sister on the small table beside the bed, beside the   hotel phone, knowing she will see it when she sits herself down on the side of the bed


Take your time, please I call to her;  have a shower please……I want  you to have a shower I say, please…..I like the smell of that shampoo you can see there; I bought it for you, it is very expensive; take it with you when you leave…..


You are mad!!!  She shouts while turning the water on in the shower…


That disgusting inkling of going to stealth a gaze at this beautiful teen, I throw it away into oblivion,  being disgusted by myself  letting such thoughts enter my conscious  in this very  moment of disgusting time; but who can resist such a smashing beauty…


I know call her uncle,   knowing   that the humming of the water in the shower will quench my conversation on the phone.


I tell him I need to concoct a terrible lie for her about her sister, as I think she might be very angry and run away.

But in any case you now go to the outside of the door, and be there when I – or if I – need you.


She comes out, and look really gorgeous in the silk  rope, really – my goodness; she could have  been in the stable of a decent Mari Clair agency rather than being abuse and exploited with this  diabolic filth.


Please sit down on the bed, I ask her, I want to take a picture of you, you really look  pretty –  do you like that silk rope?

She is about to say something in return when she sees the picture of her little sister…..


She totally goes bananas, to say the least; - she is hysterical; she is screaming so loudly that I have to force her to be quite, so the neighbouring rooms do not think a murder is going on….


She is  in totally disintegration, and  when she compose herself a little, she  accuse me for having stolen  the picture from her purse when she was taking the shower; THAT IS WHY YOU WANT ME TO TAKE THAT SHOWER, she screams to me…..right, right, right.

Why would I do such a stupid thing?

I did not steal anything from you, I could not even think of stealing anything from you…

So where the hell did you get the picture of my little sister from, she continues screaming; then she abruptly stops and stare at me with such an apprehension that I have never seen before; they know, don’t they, they know it all, don’t they

Tell me; tell me that they  DO  NOT KNOW, tell me – she  hysterically  asks me over and over…


I look at her, and say in the most softly way I ever have spoken..:


It is time to go home…


To your little sister; - she is waiting for you now; this moment


Police just arrested the ugly pimp, and her  henchmen, so  there is no need of apprehention anymore....



(The remedy’s  effectiveness)


She falls into her uncle’s arms and that is the end of the story…


She still sends me Christmas cards and tells me how much she loves that silk coat, that I bought in Lebanon two years before that……


 onlinelondon         -       ofra haza       -       eddy.nu       -       evergreentunes       -       i s a