Fireproof (24 page)

"I'm enjoying it, master Rocks. It seems to be working even when you're not around."

"That's handy. Did Jim drop by with the habit?"

"Yes. I've left it on your bed, Master Rocks."

Mike turned to Cathy and raised an eyebrow. She mirrored his expression. Mike pushed the bag of drink into Cadbury's arms and they went straight to Mike's bedroom. Mike turned away as Cathy changed into the habit so he could get the full effect when she was finished. When she told him she was ready, Mike turned and took in the image in one greedy eyeful. He couldn't control the corners of his mouth. The biggest, goofiest smile known to mankind invaded his face. He actually giggled.

"What do you think?" Cathy asked.

Mike made a noise in the back of his throat. He moved his hands in an effort to communicate by sign language but gave that up as a bad job. He would have floundered for hours if Cathy hadn't grabbed him by the belt and dragged him to the bed. He snapped out of his trance quite soon after that.

***

They left Mike's bedroom early the next morning. The drink hadn't left the fridge. Mike didn't mind. He'd been more than satisfied to get high on the Cathy vibe. It wouldn't go to waste anyway. With any luck they'd have reason to celebrate later that night.

The smell of frying bacon floated through the air. Cadbury clattered and clanked in the kitchen. Mike knew Cadbury didn't have an alarm clock but he always got up before Mike and prepared breakfast perfectly in time with Mike's awakening. He was a godsend. Mike chuckled to himself as he thought about that phrase. He had stopped taking the Lord's name in vain in a paradoxical sign of respect for his new religion, but some phrases were so ingrained that they slipped through the net again and again.

Mike could smell coffee brewing in the percolator. He took two cups from the cupboard, careful to stay out of Cadbury's way, and poured a cup for himself and Cathy. Cadbury didn't like to talk as he cooked and Mike respected that. He slipped back out of the kitchen to bring Cathy an early morning jolt.

"Oh, my hero," Cathy said as he placed her cup on the bedside cabinet. Mike could tell by her voice that she really meant it.

"My pleasure, Sister Maguire. I didn't give you any sugar. I assume you're sweet enough."

"You're a good man, Mister Rocks. A good man."

After their coffee Mike and Cathy went to the St Oliver Plunkett Parochial house. Mike had managed to talk his way into a meeting with the bishop by pretending he had booked the time weeks ago and there must have been an oversight. The housekeeper responded well to Mike's polite, but assertive tone and apologised for the mix-up. They were due to have morning tea with the bishop at ten o'clock. The sun warmed the street and the parochial house was only a couple of miles away, so they walked.

"Are you nervous about this, Cathy?"

"No, I'm quite looking forward to it."

She wore the full nun outfit and had been earning respectful nods from most of the pedestrians they passed on their way up the busy road. Even a group of boisterous school boys, who were bunking, hushed their conversation until Cathy was past them. Mike was heartened to see that at least one uniform still wielded respect in these parts.

"So you're comfortable with our plan?"

"Yes, Mike, it's pretty straightforward. I'm sure I can manage."

"Hey, I'm not trying to insult you. I just want to make sure you're not too stupid to do this right."

"Yeah, I gathered as much. Rest assured, I have just enough intelligence to cope with this."

"Are you sure? If you can't fit this scenario into your pretty little head, I could jot down a few notes for you."

Cathy slapped Mike's ear. Hard. An old lady stood at the bus stop they were approaching. She gave Cathy a nod of approval. Cathy nodded back with an equally grim expression. Mike rubbed his ear. When the ringing stopped he could hear whiny laughter. The imp.

"She got you there, Mike. Good job I ducked in time. She could have sent me clean across the road with a slap like that."

"I haven't heard from you in a while. I was hoping something terrible had happened to you."

Cathy looked at Mike. He pointed at his shoulder and she nodded. She knew he would fill her in when he was finished with the imp.

"Charming. My legs are as good as new now. Not that you care about that."

"What do you want?"

"An update. Are you going to take care of the taxi driver? What are you doing for the religion this week?"

"I told you that I'm not going to hurt the taxi driver. End of. This week I'm working on the ultimate make or break scheme for the religion. I'll either blow everything by alerting too much attention to the movement, or I'll gain a lot of media coverage. So I'm guessing I'll see Cerberus on Saturday. Tell him to brush his teeth will you?"

"Oh, you'll see him all right. And I'll be on his back, enjoying the show. I can't wait to watch you beg."

"That's not going to happen, imp. I'm not very frightened of death. Been there, done that, you know?"

"I'll help Cerberus come up with a special way for you to go, Mike. Something that will blow your mind."

"Whatever, little guy. Now scamper off before I do something you'll regret. If I wasn't in such a good mood I'd have pulled those shiny new legs off by now."

The imp didn't respond and Mike waved his hand across the air over his shoulder. Gone.

"So the imp still wants you to kill the taxi driver."

"Yes indeedy."

"Well, let's hope you pull off something spectacular today, babe. You're due a lucky break."

"Whatever happens, happens, Cathy. I'll just adapt to any situation I find myself in."

Cathy smiled at him and Mike felt a little sick in his stomach. He could adapt to any situation if Cathy was part of it. If Lucifer really wanted to get under Mike's skin he would use that to his advantage. Mike didn't want to lose her but he had a feeling he would.

The front door of the parochial hall was solid mahogany. It looked heavy and expensive, and out of place. The door was clean and graffiti free, but the walls of the building were not. Mike guessed the door had been replaced recently. He grabbed an old-fashioned wrought iron knocker and pounded a steady beat. In seconds he heard frantic footsteps from the other side. The door opened to reveal a wrinkled but friendly face. The woman's age lay somewhere between seventy and two-hundred years old. She wore a wig and her gummy mouth held a half-smoked cigarette. The smoke had been snubbed and Mike could smell the unpleasant scent of freshly charred tobacco as she leant forward to get a good look at his face.

"Are you a Jehovah's Witness?"

"No, I'm Mike Rocks."

"Good. Them crazy Jehovah's Witness keep calling here. You'd think it was the fucking Shankill Road or something. How are you, sister?"

Mike blinked at the unexpected use of the f word in the company of a nun, and the distaste in her expression at the mention of the protestant working class area, the Shankill Road. The old woman didn't seem to notice Mike's shock. She stepped aside and waved them in with an impatient sweep of her arm. Mike wanted to hold Cathy's hand, but resisted the urge.

"So Mr Rocks, Bishop Golden Balls is ready to see you. Just keep your hand on your wallet. He's originally from Drogheda. I don't trust anything that came from Drogheda. Tinkers and thieves, the lot of them."

"Are you the bishop's housekeeper?" Cathy asked.

"Aye. He'd be lost without me. Couldn't find his arse with a torch and a map, that one."

"He's lucky to have you."

"You're right, Sister. He's an
awful
wanker, though."

As the old woman put her gnarled hand on the door handle to the bishop's room she said, "If you can swing the conversation in the right direction, would you ask him to rinse his pubes down the plughole after he takes a shower. The man's moulting like a yeti. He won't listen to me though."

The slump-shouldered bishop peeled back his lips as Cathy and Mike entered his room. Cathy supposed it might have passed for a smile but couldn't tell for sure. Mike shook the bishop's hand and introduced himself. After a brief pleasantry exchange he explained their problem.

"So as you can imagine, I thought this needed to be tackled head on. About an hour should do it."

"Of course, Mr Rocks. I would be only too happy to assist you in such a delicate matter."

Mike turned to Cathy.

"I suppose you should take a seat, Sister. Would you like me to stay or go?"

"I'd like to talk to the bishop alone, but could you return in about fifteen minutes to see how we're getting on? You know it's not a good idea for me to be left alone too long."

"I'll be close by."

Mike nodded to the bishop and stepped outside. Cathy took a deep breath as the old cleric waited for her to begin. She took in his rubbery features as she formed her opening sentence in her head. His skin seemed too loose for his face and there was a forest of hair tufting from each nostril. Cathy wondered if the man could breathe with his mouth closed. Sunlight from the window behind him highlighted the sparse, curly fuzz that crowned a liver-spotted head. His eyes were bloodshot and ninety percent of the capillaries in his nose had ruptured.

"God forgive me for saying it, but you're a fine figure of a man, bishop. It's all I can do to stay in this seat. I want to put you over my knee and spank you."

The bishop's reaction to her statement disappointed. He snorted. Cathy felt her face go red, but she rolled with it and used it to sell her story.

"Sorry bishop. That's the kind of thing that Mr Rocks was talking about. Not only do I blurt out these sinful statements, but I actually mean what I say too. It's not just a case of Tourette's. I think it might be possession."

"Sister Maguire, it's generally accepted that the Catholic Church does not really believe in demonic possession. This is an enlightened age. There are medical explanations for most of the conditions first mistaken for possession; as well as Tourette's syndrome, Epilepsy and Schizophrenia fit the descriptions of most of the so-called possessions that have been documented throughout history. Your condition can more than likely be explained."

Cathy pulled the hem of her habit up to reveal an indecent amount of leg. Her stocking suspenders were red. Mike had chosen them.

"Bishop, I need to be fulfilled. Are you the man to do it?"

"Sister, I'd be more comfortable if you didn't reveal your legs in such a manner."

"I don't know why I do these things, but I can't control myself. My brain is telling me to act decently, but I can't get my body to obey. I thought becoming a nun would give me the strength and discipline to conquer this, but it's gotten worse."

"Do you reveal yourself like this often?"

"It's happened more than once, but there is no set stimulus, as far as I can see. I can go days or even weeks without behaving this way, or it can happen more than once in just a few hours. It's all so random."

"Do I remind you in any way of another person who played a significant role in your early life?"

"What do you mean?"

"In certain cases, women who have been abused become sexually aggressive in later life. It's almost an aggressive defence mechanism. If a trusted member of the family or a family friend ever acted inappropriately towards you, contact with someone who reminds you of your abuser could trigger this inappropriate behaviour."

Cathy felt like she was on the ropes. This was not going the way she thought it would at all. Her first statement should have flustered the bishop and everything else was meant to seduce. She expected him to be a gibbering wreck by now, but he was behaving in a perfectly professional manner. Maybe Mike should be in here, seducing the bishop into a compromising situation.

"I don't believe I was ever harmed in such a manner, bishop."

"Hmm. The plot thickens. Tell me this, sister. Would the man you arrived with be the same Mike Rocks who is leading the True Church of Satanism? Am I being paranoid or is it possible that you and Mr Rocks are here to discredit me and as such discredit Catholicism? Are you even a nun?"

"Ah, you've heard of Mike."

"My dear, I would have to have had my head buried very deep in damp sand to have missed what has been going on here for the past few months. We are not so arrogant as to believe that people are not drifting away from us. I know who Mike Rocks is. What I want to know now is what he wants with me."

"He wants you to endorse his religion."

"And how is sending a nun to seduce me supposed to achieve that?"

"He was going to blackmail you."

"I see. Didn't he think to ask me? Why didn't he come to me like a man and ask me?"

"To be honest, I think Mike would have liked to have done that. Mike likes to talk. But he's on a little bit of a strict deadline this week and he was trying to reduce the risk of you not buying what he was selling."

"You make him sound like a door-to-door salesman."

"It kind of reflects his approach to this mission of his."