Fireproof (17 page)

"You scrub up well," Cathy said.

"Yes I do." Mike admired himself in the full length mirror on their way out of the shop. As was the Yakuza design, his tattoos were no longer visible now that he wore a long-sleeved shirt and suit jacket. Cathy looked through the automatic doors that led to Royal Avenue. She noted the distinct lack of umbrellas.

"It looks like the rain is off for a bit. Do you want to go for a stroll?"

"Hell yeah. No sense in looking this good if you aren't going to show it off."

"My God, I've created a monster."

"Less of the G word, my dear. You're in the company of one of Satan's minions."

"I do apologise, o damned one."

They walked hand in hand through the town. The streets were wet and the sky overcast, but Cathy's spirits were still high. She wasn't even irritated by the sight of the queue for McDonald's spilling out into the street. She would almost consider giving vanilla coffee another go, five pounds a cup or not. Just a few yards from the McDonald's a cluster of Born Again Christian preachers spread their take on the words of Christ through a megaphone. They handed out fliers to anyone willing to take them and turned the other cheek to the passers-by who offered their not-so-favourable opinions. Mike's grip tightened around Cathy's hand as they approached the little group. She had to pinch the skin on the back of his hand to stop him from breaking most of her fingers.

"What's wrong, Mike?"

"Just keep walking. I'll explain in a second."

Cathy walked with him for another minute. They ducked into a dodgy looking pub and took a booth in one of the dank corners. Smoke from the cigarettes of patrons who surrounded the front door drifted in towards them in a sleepy current. The barman didn't come to their table to offer them a drink and they never tried to get his attention to order one. Mike's eyes were wide and the corners of his mouth twitched. His feet hammered out a staccato beat under the table.

"One of the hitmen is out there."

"What?"

"The Born Agains. He was one of them. Frankie Watson, a saved man; now
that
I wasn't expecting."

"So what are you going to do? You can't walk up to him in a crowded street and choke him. Cerberus would be here before you could say brimstone."

"That's why
we
are going to come up with a plan."

"Oh, are
we
now?"

"You said you wanted to help. I haven't been able to track Frankie down since I got back. This might be my only chance. Who knows where he and his merry men will be plying their trade tomorrow. Those nutcases travel all over."

"Of course I'm going to help you. What can I do?"

"I have a feeling that a leopard like Frankie can't change his spots in just a few months, even if he is born again. There'll be enough of the old bastard left in him to use against him. We'll keep it simple. How do you feel about this?"

Mike outlined his simple and slightly risky plan. Cathy couldn't think of anything better so she went along with it. Together they walked back towards the preachers and stood right in front of them. They were not a group that usually drew a crowd and it seemed to make them a little bit nervous to be appraised by a young couple. Frankie was the first one to address him. He was even smaller than Mike in his new form. He took the megaphone from his lips.

"Do you fine young people have a question for us?" His voice rumbled in quite a low tone for a man of such short stature. His moustache bristled as his smile widened.

"Yes," Cathy said. "My husband isn't very religious, but he's trying to talk me out of a procedure that he believes isn't going to be good for my soul. I don't really value his opinion on sinning as he doesn't even attend mass. He suggested that you learned men might be able to offer a bit of guidance."

Frankie's eyes narrowed. "What kind of procedure is it? If it's an abortion then I can tell you that my answer will be short and easily understood." The other four bible thumpers nodded their agreement.

"Oh my goodness, no it is not an abortion. What kind of a person do you take me for?"

"Sorry if I've insulted you. Please, tell me about this procedure."

"Well, I'd like to get my clitoris pierced. My husband says it's unholy, but I think he just doesn't want me to let a big tattooist anywhere near my unclothed privates. Tell me; is there anything in the bible about that sort of thing?"

One of the younger men went beetroot red from the collar up. The three older men looked a little confused until she mentioned unclothed privates. Cathy assumed that they were unclear about the word clitoris. She was certain that Frankie was perfectly educated in that area, however. His lascivious leer gave it all away.

"I don't believe that the bible has any direct guidance on such a matter, Ms. It sounds like it's probably okay. As long as it's handled professionally, that is."

"Well, a fine lot of help you were!" Mike stormed off in the direction they had just come. Frankie raised his eyebrows and whistled.

"Oh, he's going to sulk again. Really I just brought up all of this piercing business to see if he'd find it erotic. Things are getting a little boring in the bedroom."

This was plain enough for all four of Frankie's associates to grasp. There was a collective gasp of shock. Frankie didn't bat an eyelid.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Marriage is a sacred institution. I do hope that you're not having any impure thoughts because of these feelings of dissatisfaction."

"I can't say that my mind is completely clear of that sort of thing."

One of the four men seemed to be suffering an asthmatic fit. Frankie slapped him on the back a couple of times before turning his attention back to Cathy.

"I think you could use some counselling at such a delicate juncture in your life. Would you like to go for a walk?"

"Can you leave in the middle of a preachathon?"

"We don't call it that, but my attendance is voluntary. I'm sure these fine fellows won't mind me taking a break for an hour." Frankie didn't wait around long enough for them to voice their opinions. He handed the younger man the megaphone and walked away from the group. Cathy walked beside him. They were headed away from the path Mike had taken. Frankie obviously didn't want to bump into him. Mike had predicted that.

"So, the hubby isn't ringing the old bell anymore then?"

"You could say that."

"That's a real shame. Have you tried any kinky stuff to spice things up a bit? Role-playing, bondage, threesomes, that kind of stuff?"

"The more you talk to me the less you sound like a Christian."

"Oh, I'm merely playing devil's advocate. Helping you think through your predicament."

"Oh, of course."

"Besides, I can ask for forgiveness later, can't I?"

"Yes, I think you'll be given an opportunity to beg for forgiveness very soon."

As they had planned, Mike had doubled back on a parallel street and was now walking towards them. Frankie hadn't noticed him. Mike nodded to a nearby alley and Cathy acted fast. She grabbed Frankie's hand and pulled him towards it.

"I've got an exciting idea. Come down this alley with me, Jesus-boy."

Frankie smiled and allowed himself to be led down the alley.

"I'm not sure that we'll get much privacy here, my child. Confessions are usually conducted in much more intimate environments."

"You won't even get enough privacy for that, Frankie."

At the sound of Mike's voice, Frankie turned on his heel and his hand went to his belt. It closed on nothing. Frankie cursed and raised his fists like a man who wasn't sure what to do with a pair of hands that held no weapons.

"What's up, Frankie? You don't carry knives anymore?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'll tell you later."

"You tell me now, pretty boy."

Mike laughed and put his hands in his pockets. Frankie advanced on him. Cathy snuck up behind Frankie and kicked one of his heels as he lifted it to step. He tripped over his own feet and Mike stomped on his head. Lights out.

Cathy and Mike carried Frankie between them. They had no problem dragging his feather-light body to a private taxi depot. Just two people bringing a drunken mate home. Nobody gave them a second glance.

Cathy helped Mike bundle Frankie into the back seat of the taxi when it pulled up outside the depot. They sat on either side of him to prop him up. The taxi driver had a good look at him in his rear view mirror.

"Your mate is bleeding," the driver said.

"Yeah," Cathy said, "we know. He took a spill on the way over hear. Liquid lunch. What can you do?"

"Well, he's lucky that you two are looking after him. Plenty of others would have left him to fend for himself."

Cathy smiled at the taxi driver as he glanced over his shoulder. He was a big guy with a chubby face. It looked like he only needed to shave once a week his cheeks were so smooth. He had one gold hoop in his left ear. On the dashboard of the taxi he'd sticky-taped a picture of two young girls and a woman about his age. The kids had his chubby face; the woman looked joylessly in shape.

He dropped them off at Mike's apartment and Mike tipped him well. He tipped everyone well. Cathy had a feeling that he would have done the same even if his sock drawer didn't have a pile of free cash that topped itself up regularly.

***

They dumped Frankie on the couch and he stirred a little. Mike heaved him up by a handful of jacket and punched his jaw. Frankie stopped stirring.

Cathy could hear the shower running. Cadbury getting washed again. She got the feeling that he wouldn't be too shocked to come out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, to find his boss tying an unconscious man to a kitchen chair. Cadbury seemed to be a live and let live type of guy.

Mike used Frankie's belt to fasten his wrists to the back of the chair and his own belt to strap Frankie's legs together. Then he fetched a pint glass of water from the kitchen. He drenched Frankie's face and ‘Sunday Best' suit jacked.

Frankie snuffled and shivered. He opened confused eyes and blinked away the water dripping down his forehead. He didn't talk.

Cathy couldn't take the suspense. She grabbed his nose and squeezed it like a teen working a pimple.

Frankie yelped.

"Stop pinching me, you mad bitch."

"Watch your mouth, Frankie," Mike said.

"Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm Mike Rocks and this is Cathy Maguire. She's my girlfriend."

"The only Mike Rocks I know is dead. You need to let me go now. At the minute you're only talking about a knee-capping and a bullet in each elbow as payback for this. If it goes any further, I'll see to it that you get nailed to a tree in Crossmaglen."

"The only Mike Rocks you know isn't dead anymore, Frankie. I came back. I got a new look and a thirst for revenge. You're on the shit-list, little guy."

"You're fucking nuts. Back from the dead my arse. Back from the fucking drug dealer, you mean."

"Believe me or don't believe. All you really need to believe is that I
will
get you to answer some questions. By any means necessary."

Frankie bucked in the chair. He yelled for help. Cathy flicked on Mike's stereo and cranked the volume. Charlie Daniels yelled for Johnny to rosin up his bow and drowned out Frankie. By the end of the chorus, Frankie had stopped screaming.

Mike nodded to Cathy. She turned the music down. Mike turned back to Frankie. "The young couple below me work ten-hour-days all week and travel home to Tyrone at the weekend to spend time with family. The pensioner below them is deaf. I can be as loud as I want right now."

"Then you better make a good job of this. If you fuck up, I'll get you back."

"Déjà vu. I don't suppose you'd expect me to feel an air of familiarity, would you? I remember being tied to a chair. I hated it. I was completely helpless in a room with four psychos. You, Sean, Paul, Dave.
You'll
have to make do with just me and the lovely lady here. Personally, I think that's enough. You're only half the man I was."

Frankie really looked at Mike for the first time. Cathy saw the moment of recognition in his sneaky eyes. A second later, his jaw dropped. "Fuck, it
is
you. But… but… how? This isn't right. Am I in Hell? I can't be in Hell. I've been born again. Christians don't go to Hell! It's against the rules!"

"The rules?" Mike snorted. "You'll know all about the rules soon enough. None of the religions are right, Frankie. I have it on very good authority."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Don't worry, wee man. I could never stoop to the level of torture you guys managed."

"Kevin Kelly's corpse told a different story."

"I had my reasons for that." Mike's voice dropped an octave and fought through clenched teeth.

"And we had ours." Frankie's voice whined. It pleaded for sympathy. It got anger. White hot anger.

"Aye. Money!
I
didn't gain anything!"