The Devil (7 page)

'They'll be wanting that back.'

91

KEN BRUEN

I said w i t h fake levity,

' G o o d luck w i t h that.'

He adjusted his cap, turned to head back to the carnage,

said,

'A
cara, bhi curamach:
( M y friend, be careful.)

I replied,

'Agus leat fein:
(You too.)

A n d more's the Irish pity, neither of us heeded that benign

blessing.

A year after that encounter, he was found hanging in his

garage, one year short of his retirement.

But a lot of other malevolence was coming d o w n the

G a l w a y pike before then.

Somewhere I'd read:

Good which is unused is prone to turn to evil.

I'd gone back to my apartment; the snow had started

falling heavily again.

We don't do snow here. It's so rare, we're almost

enchanted at the novelty.

T i l l it starts fucking up transport, heating, our daily lives.

Then we react.

Badly.

A n d as is our way, we blame somebody.

I turned on the news, almost my penance at this stage.

Banks failing.

The Euro fucked.

92

THE DEVIL

A n d I nearly laughed. In the midst of all this they went

local, showing h o w a new hotel was to be built on the site

of the Connacht laundry.

A n d h o w wonderful. It w o u l d have saunas, hot tubs,

tanning booths.

Oh Mother.
Mo croi.

I went to see how much was left of the Jameson.

I had a real bad feeling it wasn't going to be enough.

93

8

'Being unwanted is the worst disease.'

M o t h e r Teresa

N e x t morning, I was all over the frigging place.

Me nerves were shot to ribbons.

I wanted to get right on the Sawyer case, the girls bully-

ing the D o w n syndrome child. But I knew I was too frazzled

to do that w i t h any refinement.

Beating the be-jaysus out of three children wouldn't

exactly look good on me next American application.

I had some coffee, real smart I k n o w when yer nerves are

dancing jigs along the ceiling.

D i d a X a n a x , muttered,

' D o some k i n d of fecking magic, w i l l ye?'

It d i d .

Took a time, but it got me there.

The snow had eased and there even seemed to be a ray of

bright sunshine on the horizon.

As I got me all-weather gear on, I was even able to listen

to some music.

Counting Crows.

Johnny D u h a n , of course, me beacon always.

97

KEN BRUEN

A n d the truly angelic Gretchen Peters.

Song on her album, 'Breakfast At O u r House', about the

agony of divorce and it was too acute, too accurate, I had to

stop it.

The bells for the Angelus tolled.

I stopped, blessed myself.

I was probably one of the last people on the whole damn

island w h o still took the time to say it.

'The Angel of the Lord . . .'

A n d like the song goes, took some comfort there.

N o t from childhood, fuck no. But maybe from that

vanished Ireland where people stopped in the streets, blessed

themselves and said the prayer.

We'd come a long way.

A n d gained?

Sweet fuck all.

I tried not to think of that gorgeous girl E m m a and her

heart torn from her body. The anger and rage literally

steamed off me.

I said aloud,

'Get a bloody grip, son.'

Then without another thought, headed out to the pub.

Answers there?

Course not. But at least I could be numb enough not to

ask questions.

M y mobile rang.

Ridge.

A l l warmth.

T h a n k i n g me for my fine behaviour at the drinks party.

98

THE DEVIL

Through gritted teeth, I asked,

' H o w is Carl?'

Like I gave a fuck.

She gushed. G o d forgive us both, but she d i d . Went,

' H e is very taken with you. W h o ' d have guessed you had

such charm?'

W h o indeed?

She prattled on.

Ridge!

I reined in me animosity, not easy but got there, and she

said,

'I hope you don't m i n d . Jack, but he asked for your

mobile number. Was that OK to give it to him? I think he

has plans for y o u . '

I nearly laughed, said,

'You're right, I do believe he has plans for me.'

Then she changed her tune, asked,

'Are you all right. Jack? Y o u sound a bit strained.'

Surely not.

I said,

' M u s t be a bad connection. But I wonder if I might ask

you a wee favour, you being a newly appointed sergeant and

all?'

She was still high on the party's success and agreed to do

whatever I needed.

D u m b bitch.

I told her about the Sawyers, the little girl K e l l i and the

bullying.

N o problem.

99

KEN BRUEN

She'd be deHghted to straighten them out, and in fact was

in town the next day and w o u l d appear in full uniform to

have a
chat
with the bullying girls. She said,

' W h o knows better than y o u . Jack, the effect of a

uniform?'

I felt a pang.

True, me days in uniform, you had a certain presence.

Said,

'Thank you so much, I owe you.'

She laughed, said,

'Tis nothing.'

She was so wrong. A n d ended the call w i t h ,

'Jack, I think you've really turned your life around. I'm so

proud of y o u . '

I hung up before she got more ridiculous.

Caravan's, on Shop Street, one of the last remaining old

G a l w a y pubs, with an Irish barman.

Wouldn't last.

But I'd appreciate it while it d i d .

A busker outside was singing 'It's Raining In Baltimore'.

I dropped a ten in his wet tweed cap and he said, in a

German accent,

' Z a n k y o u . '

The barman thankfully hadn't k n o w n of me travel plans,

so no need for all the fandango of bullshite. He said,

'Usual?'

I nodded and headed for the snug, a portioned little

corner where you can see but not be seen.

The Brits w o u l d love it.

100

THE DEVIL

The
Irish Independent
was on the table. I scanned the

headlines:

1,177 workers lost their jobs every day during January.

327,861 are now out of w o r k .

132,263 posts have been axed since the new Taoiseach

came to power.

A n d the editorial screamed,

'It's going to get worse.'

The barman came over, put d o w n the Jameson first, then

the pint of Guinness, nodded at the paper and said,

'I've applied to go to Australia.'

The young people were all heading out again. Like the

a w f u l eighties, when our best and our brightest left

the dying economy, and never came back.

But tough times bring out the street entrepreneurs.

I'd hardly sank half the Jay before I'd been offered a batch

of shirts.

Nearly bought a light blue as it was so like my old

Guard's one, but passed when the guy said,

' Y o u can't just buy one.'

The bollix w o u l d probably have his o w n franchise within

the year.

I was sinking the black when a w o m a n - R o m a n i a n , I'd

guess - offered me some D V D s . Said,

' A l l the blockbusters, sin'

I flicked through them and smiled.

Hellboy?

H e l l , yes.

A n d

101

KEN BRUEN

The Reader,

The Wrestler,

London Boulevard,

Abba: the Movie,

Alien vs Predator 2,

Appaloosa.

Said I'd take them all save A b b a .

She was surprised, asked,

' Y o u no like A b b a ? '

Sacrilege?

I asked,

'It's a happy, feel-good one, right?'

She nodded.

A n d I stared into her gypsy eyes, asked,

'I look to you like a guy w h o does happy?'

We settled on a price and she was pleased. Then she leant

over, said,

'The boy - don't look now, but to your right - he no like

you, is true?'

I waited till she'd gone, then casually looked to my right

and sure enough, there was a young guy - eighteen, maybe?

- sipping a pint bottle of cider, the loony juice, giving me

what I can only describe as the E v i l Eye.

A n d his body movements, that jerky motion that spoke of

speed jag.

I knew it.

H a d , alas, been there.

I checked the sports page.

R o b b i e Keane, captain of our national team, had

102

THE DEVIL

been sold from Liverpool, his big chance blown.

Before I could see why, the jittery k i d was sitting opposite

me, said,

'Taylor.'

N o t a question.

I reached for me pint, not k n o w i n g what was on this

lunatic's agenda, but at least I'd have something in me hand.

I said,

' H e l p you?' Flexing for the violence that was coming in

waves off h i m .

He smiled. H i s teeth had been filed d o w n , and he had one

of those rings through his nose and really serious sniffles.

Coke rag.

He asked,

'Ever hear of a band named the Devil's M i n i o n s ? '

I tried to keep it light, said,

' N o p e , missed that one.'

He had a battered Tesco bag clutched to his side, and he

said,

'Have a look at this.'

Reached into the bag and took out a clear jar of what

looked like water. H e l d it in his right hand. Said,

' Y o u don't k n o w how to mind yer o w n fucking business,

do yah?'

Before I could react, he said,

'But you have an acid tongue, the One says.'

In a moment, he had the top off the jar, said,

'Here's some acid. Don't mess w i t h O u r Dark One.'

T h r e w it in my face. •

103

9

Dia de los muertos.

1

I clawed at my face in total panic and it took me, I dunno,

a lifetime?, to realize it was water.

The shock was almost as bad as if it had been acid.

If.

In my days as a G u a r d , I'd once seen the result of such an

attack on a w o m a n . I was one of the first to arrive and her

face was like it had melted. One eye had completely

dissolved and bones stuck out at horrendous angles in her

screaming face.

W h a t had been her face.

H e r mouth was gone and the screams were a high-pitched

croon of absolute terror.

A jealous boyfriend.

The courts let him off with a
stern
caution.

My sergeant at the time, true old school, had told me to

meet h i m after work. Said,

'Bring a hurley.'

I d i d .

He taught me the lesson of the ash.

107

KEN BRUEN

A n d that was how I began to appreciate that true justice

is dispensed in alleys.

The boyfriend learned sharp and fast, and what I most

remember is that neither the sergeant nor I said one single

w o r d .

Just used those hurleys till sweat near blinded us.

He took me for a pint after.

Wasn't till we were on the other good side of a few that

he finally said,

'You're one hard bastard, Taylor. Where d'you learn to

shut yer gob and do the job?'

I told the truth.

'Christian Brothers.'

He laughed, enjoyed that and said,

'Their day is coming. N o t even that c r o w d are above the

law.'

Twenty years ago, that seemed unthinkable.

But then, so did X
Factor.

N o w I wiped my face w i t h my sleeve, my whole body

threatening to go into shock.

I got out of there. G o d knows I even brought the D V D s

with me.

Headed for the docks.

W h a t used to be the docks before the luxury-apartments

bastards ruined them.

Even Padraigeen's, one of the great pubs, was now

Sheridan's. W i t h a fucking restaurant.

But no city ever fully goes under.

Drayton's.

108

THE DEVIL

Y o u won't find it on the tourist map.

It's not for tourists.

O r

bacicpackers,

N e w Agers,

sherry drinkers.

It's for serious business.

D r i n k ,

dope,

and whatever else you're w i l l i n g to pay the freight o n .

It's like the shebeens you used to find up N o r t h .

Same feel.

There's not so much a bouncer on the door as a killer

waiting to unleash.

I went to school w i t h h i m .

He said,

'Jack.'

I nodded.

Inside it was smoky. The no-smoking edict wasn't much

in effect here. There was one simple rule, apart from d o w n -

and-dirty drinking. ' M i n d yer o w n fucking business.'

I got a corner stool at the counter and waited.

M r s Drayton - yes, there was an actual Drayton - saw

me, and after a few minutes put a pint of the black and a

large Jay before me.

I laid some notes on the counter. Asked,

' H o w ' s himself?'