Fireproof (22 page)

Mike coughed.

The tattooist looked up from his work. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

"My friend has an appointment booked for two o'clock. His name's Cadbury."

"Ah yes. Robin will be your artist today. Take a seat. He'll not be long."

Mike took off his jacket before sitting down. His T-shirt revealed the tattoos on his arms. The little tattooist noticed them and tilted his head.

"That's very impressive work. The detail and colouring is incredible. It must have cost you a bomb. At a guess I'd say you went to Japan to get that done. It looks too authentic to have been done by one of us bogtrotters."

"Well somebody thought it was worth it, I guess."

The tattooist looked at Mike as if he'd told a crap joke, then he shrugged.

"Would you mind taking off your T-shirt? I'd love to get some photos of that art. Naturally, we'll not claim to have done it ourselves. We'll attribute the praise to the real artist."

"Sure."

"So what was the artist's name?"

"Lucifer."

"Japanese Yakuza tattoos by Lucifer. I've never heard of the guy, but I'll still take those photos if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Mike took off his T-shirt and the tattooist asked Cadbury to take a picture of him standing beside Mike. Then the tattooist took a number of close-up pictures of Mike's arms and torso. He didn't ask Mike to remove his trousers.

"Thanks, mate. These photos will look great on our wall."

"No problem at all. That's a mean-looking dragon you're working on. I think it might suit my friend here. What do you think, Cadbury? Would you like to go for this design?"

"Yeah, it looks great. Can I get it done on my back?"

The tattooist shrugged. "Sure, something like this will be a piece of cake for Robin. He's one of our best."

"You're too kind, Matt."

"Oh, hey, Robin. Your two o'clock got here a little early. Check out his friend's ink."

Robin was huge, at least seven feet tall, but very thin. He'd shaved his head to take the emphasis off a receding hairline. His fingers were long and graceful. Mike noticed this when Robin wrapped his hand around Mike's forearm and inspected the colourful art on his upper arm.

"Exquisite. Did you take pictures, Matt?"

"Of course."

"Good man." To Mike he said, "Are you going to sit in with your friend?"

"Yes."

"Come on through, guys."

The room Robin led them into had a row of immaculate booths with dentist-type chairs, a worktop and sink. A cricket-like sound buzzed in the air as two other artists worked on their fleshy canvases. Mike found the place clinical but oddly relaxing. His skin seemed to itch, as if crying out for more beautiful ink.

"So you want one of Matt's zoomorphic tribal designs?" Robin asked Cadbury.

"Yes, please. Can you put it on my back?"

"Sure. Appointment card says your name is Cadbury. Interesting."

"Thanks. I picked it myself."

"What's your friend's name?"

"Mike Rocks."

"He looks a little spaced out."

Mike blinked. "Oh, sorry. My skin's itching. Very distracting."

"I've heard of that. You'd have gone through a lot to get that work finished and now that it's perfect you know you can't be tattooed anymore. You get the itch but if you scratch it you're messing with something that doesn't need to be touched. It'd be like adding another coat to the Sistine Chapel ceiling."

"That's probably it."

"I noticed a bit of broken outline on your right shoulder blade. If you like, I could go over it for you when I'm finished with Cadbury. It might help."

"Thanks."

"Hey, adding to that fine work would be my pleasure. Gratis, of course."

Mike's skin seemed to relax a little. He took a seat at one side of Cadbury's chair and Robin sat on the other side. Cadbury asked if Robin would mind if he slept through the procedure.

"No, but you'll be missing out on the creative experience."

"That's okay, Robin. I'm more of a results man."

Cadbury closed his eyes and fell asleep in an instant.

"That's a neat trick," Robin said.

Mike nodded. He noticed an intricate pagan pentacle on Robin's inner forearm.

"You're a pagan."

"To be honest, I just like the imagery. I've read a little about paganism though. It's quite interesting."

"You ever do any reading on Satanism?"

"Sure. Heavy stuff. I'm not keen on the sacrifice scene. Also, I'm in a monogamous relationship, so I don't really agree with orgies."

"Sacrifices and orgies have nothing to do with the religion. All that shit was developed by people who wanted to kill things and shag a lot. That's not what it's all about."

"That right?"

"Yeah. I've been working hard to try and shake that kind of misconception."

"Working as what?"

"A representative of Lucifer. I was sent here to build a Satanic Religion."

"Okay. Why did Lucifer think a tattoo parlour was the best place to start?"

"Actually, I was sent to Belfast. The tattoo parlour was my idea. You guys are usually quite open-minded. But you're not the first group I've approached."

Mike detailed the varying degrees of success he'd experienced so far. Robin was a remarkable listener. So good that Mike felt obliged to tell him even more. He told Robin about his trips to Hell, the imp and Cerberus, his limitless charisma and the ability to talk in tongues. It was good to get it off his chest to a total stranger.

"Mike, you're fucking nuts. You do know that, don't you?"

Mike thought about this. It was the kind of response he'd expected every time he talked about the religion and his reincarnations. Still it quite surprised him.

"I haven't really thought about it to be honest. The situation is nuts, I'll give you that, but I think I'm in a better mental condition than I've ever been."

"I don't think I agree."

"You can ask Cadbury when he wakes up. He'll back me up."

Robin looked at the sleeping man with an incomplete tattoo on his back. "The guy doesn't seem to be the picture of sanity himself. He's wearing his pyjamas."

"What would make you believe that I'm telling the truth?"

"I suppose I could go to one of the masses and see if you really have caused the sensation you're talking about."

"That's all I ask. Will you bring some of your colleagues?"

"I guess. They'll take some convincing though."

"You're a big guy. Just pick them up and put them in your pocket."

Robin laughed. "That'd be one option, I suppose."

Although he acted like he was okay with Robin's accusation, it left Mike feeling a little unnerved. He knew Robin hadn't dived into the idea feet first and that was incongruous with the former groups that had been enlisted. But then, who had he targeted so far? Hoods, Goths and Yuppies. Although rebels in their own ways they were also natural born conformists. Their ideals were shallow at best. He had really been shooting fish in a barrel. The tall tattooist seemed a well-centred and intelligent man. He also had an interest in spirituality. Mike counted himself lucky to have him attend one of the masses, whether the guy was humouring him or not.

There had to be a more effective way to approach the more challenging individuals he would need to get the religion taken seriously. He'd considered targeting politicians next but they'd be even easier than the Yuppies. He needed to make a big impact on society, fast. He needed a group that was respected. A group that would make a worldwide impact if they went back on their ideals.

He needed to approach the Catholic Church.

"Mike, you're fucking nuts." The buzz from Robin's needle had stopped and Cadbury had woken. He looked at Mike with laughter in his eyes.

"Did you just read my mind, Cadbury?"

"Yes, and you can't seriously think you've had a good idea."

"Sneaky, sneaky. What else can that marvellous mind of yours do?"

Cadbury shrugged.

"What are you two talking about?" Robin asked.

"Making a statement, my tall, baldy friend. Cadbury, think I should give this a shot?"

"Well, if nothing else it'll be a laugh. Let's do it."

"You're going to do what?" Cathy asked.

"See if the Catholic Church wants to endorse us," Mike said.

"And why would they want to do that?"

"It'd make a bold statement about cross-community relations."

"Cross-community means Catholic and Protestant. Not Christian and Satanist."

"Oh don't be so boxed off. Belfast is a thriving, multi-cultural society now, and the city is merely a microcosm for the rest of the island. We must all roll with the punches in these changing times."

"Mike, as much as I love you, that sexy charm and sales pitch is not going to cut it in a meeting with a bishop, canon or even a priest."

"You have to have faith. Besides, I may choose not to go with a softly-softly approach."

Cathy's interest was peaked. "What are you thinking?"

"That there's more than one way to skin a Catholic."

"So, you're telling me this because I can do what for you?"

"I think you'd look great in a habit."

Cathy took a deep breath. "I think I know where you're going with this one."

"Are you willing to do it?"

"Let me get it straight first. I dress up as a nun. Somehow make it into the bishop's company. Let him come on to me because, let's face it; I'll make a super-sexy nun. Blackmail him into attending an audience with Mike Rocks. Is that about right?"

"One-hundred percent, baby."

Cathy laughed and hit Mike a playful thump with a pink pillow. They were lying on her bed as they schemed. Mike met her for an extended lunch break at noon. He said he'd wanted to do some research on her computer, and knowing he was full of shit Cathy led him into her parlour with her eyes wide open. He was the best she ever had, but that was no surprise.

"So when do you want to do this?" Cathy asked.

"Soon. The week is slipping through my fingers. I can't believe it's Tuesday already. Could you get a day off work tomorrow?"

"I'll ask when I get back to the office. I can't see it being a problem."

"Okay. Jim said he can get a habit. His auntie is a nun, but she's one of those sneaky ones. She only wears the habit on special occasions. Jim said he'll scoop it from her room in the convent during a surprise visit tonight."

"He got over his fear of offending God then? When I first met him in the centre he was shitting himself about his auntie finding out about the Satanism thing."

"Well he figures that there's a good chance that we'll succeed. Once the Catholics endorse Satanism as a respectable religion he'll be able to open up about his alternative lifestyle."

"Very forward thinking."

"The boy is coming along in leaps and bounds, babe."

"Tomorrow it is then. What about the end of the week? Did you give it any more thought?"

Mike pushed his fingers into his spiky hair, his expression alarmingly close to a frown. So Un-Mike-like.

"What can you do with a dog like Cerberus? I got a shitload of downers from one of Jim's contacts. I'll buy a nice fresh cake on Saturday morning and load it up."

"Let's hope it works."

"If we pull this thing off with the Catholics I'd say my chance at another reincarnation is very high. I'd still like to fuck Cerberus up though."

"I agree. Better safe than sorry. So what did you do last night?"

"Me and Cadbury came up with the finer details of this plan over a curry and a few beers."

"How is that weird and wonderful man?"

"He's discovered telepathy now. On top of clairvoyance and aura reading that's quite a mix. God knows what else he's capable of."

"Might be the kind of guy you should have with you all day Saturday. He might suddenly realise that he's a mythological creature slayer."

"We talked about my impending death too and he's already offered to shadow me in case he spots anything I miss."

"Did he ever get his memory back?"

"Nope. I don't think he's trying too hard to find it, to be honest."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I suppose he must figure that if it was bad enough to forget, it probably isn't wise to try and remember it."

"I can see where he's coming from."

Mike wrapped his arms around Cathy and kissed her. A slow and gentle kiss that made her back arch. She would have sighed if her mouth had not been otherwise engaged. When their lips parted, Mike got up and dressed. Cathy lay in bed for an extra minute to watch his small, muscular frame move gracefully through a mundane task.