The Devil (8 page)

H e r husband.

She ignored the money. No one was going to grab it lest

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they wanted to lose their arm. She stubbed a hand-rolled on

the floor, said,

'Dead, thank Christ.'

I can't say she ever liked anybody. She'd been briefly

in the M a g d a l e n laundries, so what did you expect.'

Oprah?

But she had a k i n d of odd regard for me. Due mainly to

some w o r k I'd done on behalf of the tinkers.

So she lingered.

Then,

'Was there anything else y o u ' d be wanting. Jack?'

I said,

'Some personal protection.'

She never looked around.

Y o u didn't eavesdrop on her conversation, at least not

twice. She asked,

' Y o u want people or merchandise?'

'Something easy to carry.'

She gave what might be interpreted as a smile. Headed

back to serving some sailors w h o ' d been stranded in G a l w a y

for weeks and were waiting payment for two months'

service.

If their wages ever came, M r s Drayton already owned it

all.

M a y b e thirty minutes later, she placed a Supermacs bag

before me. Said,

'Probably smells of chips and vinegar, but I'd say you'd

live w i t h that.'

I didn't touch it.

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THE DEVIL

Flashes of E m m a , her heart torn out, jagging across my

mind.

I heard her say,

'Pay Sean on your way out.'

The bouncer.

I let five minutes lapse then headed for the toilet.

G o t a stall and pulled out the bag, a Sig Sauer, full clip.

I shoved it in me jacket then pulled it out, pushed the

magazine home and felt, if not better, at least ready.

The price had been written in pencil on the outside of the

bag.

N o t cheap, but could have been worse.

I wouldn't be paying by credit card.

Back at the counter, I finished my drinks and she

approached, held out a bottle cap, said,

' Y o u believe this?'

A bottle cap?

I knew better than to be a smart Alec, waited and she said,

'Turn it over.'

I d i d .

A gleaming miraculous medal on the inside.

I said,

'Mhuire an Gras:
( M a r y of Grace).

Handed it back to her, or tried to, and she wrapped her

huge w o r k - w o r n calloused hands round my hand, said,

' Y o u keep it,
gasun.'

Gasun.
Jesus, the Irish for 'boy' but in the most

affectionate way.

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I was on my way back to the apartment and was trying to

figure out what all the traffic was doing, all headed for the

cathedral. As I was but a prayer from there, it had me

puzzled.

Then the bells started ringing and I realized.

The annual N o v e n a .

N i n e days of deep devotion, masses at all hours and

hordes of people.

It was k i n d of reassuring that people still believed.

Such a country of contradictions.

Massive unemployment, like we hadn't seen for twenty

years.

A n d the people came to church, donated money like we

were still prosperous.

The number-one album in the country was by -1 swear to

G o d - the Priests.

N o , not some punk band trying for notoriety, but three

actual priests, like a celestial Three Tenors.

I got into the apartment just as yet another fall of snow

began.

I took my jacket off, put the Sig on the coffee table and

looked again at my D V D s . M a y b e I'd watch something as I

finally grabbed some food.

I sat on the couch, the sudden feel of the acid
manque
on

my face, and shuddered. Mercifully, sleep or exhaustion

took me out of the game.

The phone jerked me out of a fitful dream and I lunged for

the Sig.

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THE DEVIL

Shook myself and then picked up the phone.

Stewart.

N o intro.

'Jack, did you send Ridge on some job?'

Trying to sit up and ease the crick in my neck, I said,

'Er . . . oh yeah, to visit a family in Salthill, to read the riot

act to some bullying kids.'

Silence.

I shouted,

'What?'

He sighed, said,

'She's in the hospital, got badly beaten up by some guy.'

Oh holy fuck.

I asked,

'Where is she?'

'In N U I hospital.'

I hung up.

M a d e some strong coffee, downed two X a n a x and

splashed water on me bedraggled face. Pulled on my jacket

and grabbed the Sig, thinking.

Gotta get some food in sometime.

The bells for the evening N o v e n a were peeling loud.

I muttered,

'Ask not for w h o m . . .'

It's but a jig and a reel to the hospital from Nun's Island,

but the church crowds and the heavy snow made progress

slow and by the time I got there, I was sweating like a C o r k

full back.

I hate hospitals.

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A l w a y s , always the worst news for me there.

I got to reception and found out that Ridge was on the

third floor. O u t of intensive care, thank G o d .

I took the stairs and ran smack into Anthony.

H e r husband.

W h o grabbed me by my lapels, shouted in my face,

'Taylor, what were you thinking, sending my darling to

those thugs?'

H i s spittle was spattering over my face and I had a flash-

back of the acid. I brought up both my arms and in one

movement not only broke his grip but sent h i m careening

backwards.

I'd had all the shite I could manage for one day.

A n d worse, as he struggled to keep his balance, I went

after h i m .

B l i n d rage.

Stewart grabbed me from behind, moved me to one side,

whispered,

'Take it easy, Jack.'

Yeah, what I do best.

Easy.

He manoeuvred me into one of those uncomfortable chairs

they outbid M c D o n a l d ' s for. Asked,

'Heaven's sake, Jack, what's with you?'

He was kidding?

N o p e .

So I near spat,

' H e put his fucking hands on me, and I k n o w he's A n g l o ,

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THE DEVIL

beating peasants is their heirloom, but gee, guess what, we

don't take that shite any more.'

Aggression was pouring off me in waves.

Stewart said,

'The seat of your stamina is the
dan tien,
centred just

below your navel. N o w feel the heat rise to your extremities,

a n d — '

I shut h i m up.

Fast.

'Keep your
dan
fucking whatever and tell me what

happened to Ridge.'

He cast a glance at Anthony, w h o , I swear to Christ,

looked like he was going to come back for more.

I sure hoped he was.

Stewart focused me back, said,

'She went to the home of those children you told her

about, in uniform, and was seemingly in m i d . . . er . . .

admonishment, when the father arrived home. He has, it

appears, a somewhat volatile nature and attacked Ridge.'

He had to pause, take a deep breath, then,

'The man was arrested and charged. Normally, you attack

a G u a r d , they throw away the key. Y o u k n o w that. Jack,

right?'

There was a
but.

I already knew what was coming, but waited. He

continued,

' M r Sawyer is already out on bail, his daughters claiming

that Ridge slapped them, and y o u know, the Guards are not

exactly in the high esteem they once were, what w i t h that

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shooting of the boy in Baliyclara, and any suggestion of

over-zealous policing is frowned upon. He has the best

lawyers, of course, and in fact plays golf w i t h your erstwhile

colleague. Chief Clancy, so he w i l l walk, and Ridge may not

only lose her stripes, but her job is in jeopardy. Y o u put a

young girl on any stand, crying that a G u a r d slapped her,

how's that going to play? So he's laughing at the actual

charge, said he may well sue.'

I had a thousand things to reply, all involving heavy

profanity, but he added,

' A n d of course, the fact that she is k n o w n to be

a) a friend of yours,

b) gay,

c) suffering post-mastectomy stress . . .

Well, Jack, you do the math.'

I could see her, delighted to be back in uniform, wearing

her sergeant's stripes, and G o d knows, she'd earned them. I

said,

'Being in uniform, being a G u a r d , it has a sense of .. .

Jesus, I don't know, purpose. But as a convict, you're

probably not that fond of uniforms.'

I wanted to hurt h i m .

I wanted to hurt somebody.

He was nearest.

He took it. Said,

'We had our o w n uniform there, the denim. But unlike

you, we might have taken it off, but it never quite left us.'

Deep.

Very.

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THE DEVIL

I snapped,

'Fascinating as your prison experiences no doubt are,

could we get to Ridge?'

He
faltered, only for a second. I'd wounded him . He

stood back, said,

' M r Sawyer broke her nose and some ribs, and kicked

her in places where a w o m a n is not really built to be

kicked.'

He paused, then,

'Does that bring you up to speed, Garda Taylor?'

H i s voice was ice.

But d i d I reel it i n , ease up?

Alas.

I asked,

' W h e n can I see her?'

He began to turn away, said,

'Ask the doctor.'

I did finally get to see a doctor, who said she was stable

and maybe tomorrow she might be receiving visitors.

I knew I should go and, if not make things right with

Stewart, at least make the effort, and Anthony, he was best

left alone, I thought. I did give the bottle cap to Stewart,

w h o was horrified. He asked,

'Are you out of your mind completely?'

I said,

'It's for Ridge - turn it over. W h a t is that shite you guys

chant? Live in expectation of a miracle. Or as your

Z e n masters might put it, things are not always what they

seem.'

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T h e n I did what I seem to do best, I left.

N o b o d y shouted,

' M i n d how you go.'

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10

'The pathetic remnants of a joke called a smile.'

K B

Kelehan's is just across the road from the hospital but is n o w

called the River Inn.

No sign of the river.

It was karaoke night.

Some poor misguided bastard was mangling 'The

Impossible Dream'.

I got a double Jay, pint and a corner table.

H o p i n g to dear G o d I wouldn't go calling on Mr Sawyer,

especially as I had the Sig tucked in me jacket.

I'd tapped into a decent blast of me booze when I felt a

man stand over me.

L o o k e d up and by all the serendipity, it was Sergeant

Cullen, just about the only friend I had still w i t h the Guards.

But to meet h i m again so soon?

He asked if he might sit d o w n .

I nodded.

He had a pint of Smithwick's, barely touched, said,

'I'm sorry about Ban Ni lomaire.'

Ridge - her Irish name. Nearly made me smile.

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Nearly.

He said,

'One of the Force gets hit, we gather. But y o u k n o w that.'

Yeah.

A silence till I said the fucking cliche,

'Bad business.'

A n d then from nowhere, it all hit me and I felt a panic

attack. I excused meself, went to the toilet and threw up in

the hand basin, taking the Sig out of my jacket and setting

it d o w n on the porcelain. It made a dull metallic thud as it

hit.

L o o k e d in the mirror and saw the sergeant behind me. He

said,

'Jack, put that away.'

I d i d .

I washed my face and he handed me a paper towel, said,

'Sawyer is a bad u n . M a j o r dope dealer but he has juice,

and when he saw Ban Ni lomaire, he reverted to old ways.'

I sighed, asked,

' A n d ? '

'Well, he's already out on bail, citing police harassment.'

Same old shite.