Fireproof (13 page)

And there wasn't just the politics of the situation to consider. Talking to messed-up teens and reading their files was very entertaining and the odd bit of filing and typing hadn't been very strenuous. Cathy didn't want a new job. She wanted to keep the one she had.

"How much would we need to keep the place going for another year?"

Roger consulted his paperwork.

"If the ladies take a salary cut, as they've suggested, and the landlord is willing to provide a discount on the rent, fifty-thousand might do it. But by all accounts, all the typical avenues have been explored. Unless you can secure a donation or do something spectacular to raise the money, you're stuck. You have enough to keep you going to the end of the month. That's it."

"Well, thank you for your time, Roger," Margaret said, her tone clipped, as usual while she gave him the hairy eyeball over the top of her glasses. "I'll see you to the door."

Roger scooped his reports into a red leather briefcase and nodded goodbye to Cathy and Mary. When the meeting room door swung shut, Cathy handed Mary a tissue. The big softy couldn't hold back the waterworks. Her cheeks rippled as she blew her nose.

"Thanks, Cathy."

"No problem, Mary. Try to stay positive. There might still be some hope."

"Oh I think we've run our course, love. I hate to sound so defeatist, but there really doesn't seem to be much else we can do, unless we rob a bank."

"Or a Securicor van."

"Cathy! You're so wicked." Mary laughed at the ludicrous suggestion, but Cathy didn't join her.

"I'm serious, Mary. If the dumbass thugs around here can do it, surely a trio of intelligent ladies could do it even more effectively."

"My God, you
are
serious."

"And you're tempted."

"But how could we explain the money?"

"A donation."

"From who?"

"William Fisher, my last employer."

"But won't the money be traceable?"

"William Fisher is an old fool, but his wife is a sharp, mean bitch. I think she'll still be in touch with William's money men. She could have anything we steal washed and dried and fit for circulation in days."

"But why would she help us?"

"Greed. If I give her anything we steal in return for an untraceable and legitimate donation of fifty grand, we're all winners. We have the money to continue operations and Mrs Fisher gets to increase her retirement fund. She may even end up with enough to hire a hitman to take care of her perverted old husband."

"Oh, this is so crazy. I can't believe you're even talking about this."

"I think she might be on to something." Margaret stood in the doorway, her eyes narrowed behind her glasses and her lips pursed. Her thin face showed no sign of mischievous humour.

"Good for you, Margaret," Cathy said.

"How soon can you talk to Mrs Fisher?" Margaret asked.

"I'll call her now. Hopefully she'll see me tonight."

"I'd like to come with you, Cathy."

"I think that would help, Margaret. She'd like you. What about you Mary?"

"I think you're both crazy."

"Oh, come on, Mary," Margaret said. "This is for the greater good. What else can we do?"

"Try for funding next year."

"Unacceptable. I think we could do this, Mary. Won't you come with me and Cathy?"

Mary shook her head in exasperation. "Of course I'll come with you. But I still think you're crazy."

"It'll be fun." Cathy said. Mary snorted and Margaret treated them to a rare smile.

Cathy arranged a meeting with Mrs Fisher over the phone. The old doll seemed very happy to hear from her. Cathy didn't go into much detail, but explained that she had a proposition that might be very profitable. Mrs Fisher invited her over. Cathy let her know that she was taking some friends and they'd be there in an hour.

***

They travelled in Margaret's battered old car; an old Mini Cooper without any trimmings. Cathy suspected that it hadn't been through its MOT for at least a decade, a crime that old ladies can sometimes get away with in a city like Belfast. Cathy sat in the passenger seat and directed Margaret to the Fisher Mansion. Mary fretted in the less than spacious back.

It took them just over half an hour to get to the house on the outskirts of South Belfast. They pulled up to the huge, black iron gates and introduced themselves to a geriatric security guard. He let them through after they yelled their names to him at a high enough volume to penetrate his wax-packed ears. An ancient man in a tuxedo answered the oak slab door to the ladies. He led them to a huge conservatory in the east wing of the house. Mrs Fisher sat at a little table with a china teapot and a selection of biscuits and buns on it. Cathy, Margaret and Mary each took a seat at the table and the old man in the tuxedo poured the tea.

"Cathy, my dear, how
are
you?"

"I'm okay, Mrs Fisher."

"Cathy, please call me Jill. Introduce me to your friends."

When the introductions and general niceties were out of the way, Cathy got down to business.

"I need you to help me launder some money."

"My dear, what are you up to?" Jill asked.

"I'm trying to save an Outreach Centre on the Falls Road."

"Whatever for?"

"It's where I work."

"You weren't very concerned when Fisher & Fisher took a nosedive."

"I didn't really like that place. No offence."

"None taken, dear. I know what my husband was like. My poor dead son was no better. Perverts, the pair of them."

Cathy agreed with Jill's opinion of her men, but she thought it would be unwise to say so. "So maybe you can help us, Jill?"

"Yes, dear, I'll help you. To be honest, I'm relieved that you aren't here to blackmail me. You don't know how many of those young secretaries I've had to threaten to keep their pretty mouths shut about John and William's reputations. The vultures. I like you too much to have to treat you like that. I would if I had to, but I wouldn't enjoy it. How much do you need laundered?"

"Fifty thousand," Cathy said.

"Where will it come from?"

"Securicor."

"That's a little risky."

"You'll keep the surplus, of course."

"Oh goody. Rather like a lucky dip, eh? Do your best not to kill the poor driver, won't you?"

"Of course."

The deal was done. The four of them drank tea and chatted for another hour, relaxed now that the business was out of the way. Jill was very interested in Margaret and Mary's opinions on the True Church of Satanism as it had come to be known. Cathy considered producing her copy of the pamphlet that outlined the basic principles of the religion, but decided that it would have raised too many awkward questions. Instead she threw in the odd comment as would be expected from a young, if slightly lapsed Catholic.

***

On the way back to West Belfast, Cathy invited Margaret and Mary to her house. She wanted to start planning the robbery. The old girls agreed and they stopped off to buy a few bottles of wine and some cheese on the way. The wine went down easy and the three of them were soon brainstorming the operation in tipsy glee.

"We could seduce the driver."

"Margaret! Your James would turn in his grave."

"Oh don't be such a prude, Mary. It wouldn't mean anything to me."

"You'll do no such thing."

"Well," Cathy said, "we could do a Charlie's Angels thing and brandish sexy firearms."

"Again with the sex. You're a pair of dirt birds!"

"Oh Mary," Margaret said, "I'd say you were a real goer before you became a teacher. All this Little Miss Innocent business isn't fooling anyone."

"How dare you!" Mary tried to act serious but couldn't hold back the hysterical laughter. It went on like this for another thirty minutes. Cathy couldn't believe how much fun her colleagues were with a little liquid encouragement. However, this comedy routine would not get them any richer. She lifted the cheese-knife from her coffee table and rapped it lightly against her wine glass.

"Ladies, ladies, can we please try and focus here?"

"Sorry Cathy," Margaret said, "What do you think we should do? Seriously now."

"Well, we know that the van stops at the cash machine at Andersonstown Leisure Centre on a Friday at noon. It was hit three weeks ago and they reported a loss of one hundred grand. The thieves threatened the driver and his apprentice with knives and a replica handgun. The Securicor workers handed over every box in the van."

"So we just do that then?" Margaret asked.

"That would mean we'd need to steal a car to transport all the boxes, which adds to the risk factor. Do either of you know how to steal a car in any case? I don't."

Neither of the ladies knew and neither suggested asking one of the kids from the Outreach Centre for advice like Cathy had hoped. Stupid ethics.

"Then we need to simplify things," Cathy said.

"How?" Margaret asked.

"Well, we could steal the whole van."

"But those things have trackers on them. The police would pick us up at the end of the Andersonstown Road." Mary said.

"Shit, I never thought of that." Cathy said. She wracked her brains to find a way around it but came up with nothing.

"I have an idea," Mary said.

"Let's hear it," Cathy said.

"Cathy, you could seduce the driver. And I'm not joking. It's simple and effective and a good use of your more obvious talents."

"I'm not sure if that's an offensive remark or a compliment."

"A little bit of both, I suppose, but I couldn't think of a more diplomatic approach. I think it's all we've got though. If you use your womanly wiles you could get those Securicor boys to tell their boss they were overpowered by ten giants with machine guns."

"I agree with Mary," Margaret said. "And if you can't persuade them to hand over the money, where's the crime? You can't be done for attempted flattery."

They were right. Convenient for them, but a pain in the ass for Cathy.

"Let's say that until we come up with something better, that plan will have to do," Cathy said.

"Excellent," Mary said. "More wine, dear?"

After Mary and Margaret drank Cathy's neat little house dry, they shared a taxi to their respective homes. Cathy went to bed. She read over Mike's Pamphlet, desperate for guidance or inspiration.

Principles of Satanism

Satanism is not a cult. It is a religion. Only the truly spiritual will benefit. Put your trust in Lucifer. Take a risk. What have you got to lose?

Revenge is sweet. Never turn the other cheek.

Love your neighbour until he gives you a reason not to.

Covet everything. That's where ambition comes from.

Only kill if you have a very good reason and you know you won't get caught.

Use your common sense. Religions have a tendency to become complicated. If something you read in the name of Satanism sounds like bullshit (even if you read it on this pamphlet) then it probably is. March to your own beat when you get bogged down with conflicting advice.

Watch your back.

The Black Mass

The most important element to the black mass is the meeting of fellow Satanists. Learn from each other and value experience.

Spend time in meditation.

Treat the mass as an open forum. Set aside time for discussion. The high priest is a facilitator. Not a leader. Give respect and courtesy, but question what you don't agree with.

Make no sacrifices in the name of Satan. Our Master is selfish and so are we. The only necessary physical sacrifice was made at the first mass. No more are necessary.

No orgies. Sex clouds the mind. Have plenty of it in your own time, but the masses are an aid to your mind and spirituality. Sex is physical pleasure and there is no room for it at mass.

No monetary donations should be made and membership fees should not be charged. Favours are our currency.

The development of a more formal structure is advised, but the general points above must be facilitated.

Strict Rules of Conduct for the Budding Satanist

Each Satanist is an ambassador for Lucifer. It is of paramount importance that this is taken seriously.

Never betray another Satanist.

Never harm children.

Never commit rape.

Never back down from a fight.

Cathy put the pamphlet on her bedside table and turned off her reading lamp after she had read the whole thing twice. It was going to be fuck-all help.