The Devil

I should be in America.

Tried.

Jaysus wept. D i d I ever?

Went to the airport.

Bought my duty-free.

D o i n g good, right?

H a d my one suit on, the black job that had seen too many

funerals.

White shirt, muted tie.

I like that . . .
muted.

Seems almost like a Brit.

D a r k one I bought in the charity shop.

I was X a n a x e d to the hilt, so mellow I certainly was.

Headed for H o m e l a n d Security.

American Immigration.

Seemed to be doing O K , did the eyeballing job, stared into

that security camera, then did the index-finger job.

' N o w sir, your left hand.'

A n d you're trying not to sweat like a bastard.

9

KEN BRUEN

That icy poHteness puts me on alert.

N o t even 10 mg of X a n a x can stop that.

Then the hesitation.

A n d the dreaded words, ' C o u l d you step to the side, sir?'

You're fucked.

Seems my past was up there, a brief stay in jail when I put

a child-beating boUix through a glass window.

I don't regret that, didn't then, don't now.

I was sorry it was on record.

Then I was told I could re-apply for entry to the U S A , but

for now, sayonara.

The looks from the other passengers, looks of 'Thank

fuck it's not me.'

Reclaiming my luggage, returning the duty-free, need I say

h o w that felt?

Shame.

No worse feeling in the whole damn universe.

I finally got back to the general population.

Yeah, just like prison.

I did what you do when y o u are humiliated.

W h a t I do, anyway.

I went to the bar.

H a d n ' t been drinking for nigh on six months.

The bar guy w o u l d just have to be an asshole.

That k i n d of day.

Ignored me for ten minutes.

A n d I seethed.

Watched h i m polish glasses, wipe d o w n the counter, and

finally,

1 0

THE DEVIL

Golly gosh.

He noticed me.

Opened w i t h ,

'What w o u l d sir's pleasure be?'

H i s balls for openers.

I went w i t h ,

'Double Jameson, no ice, pint of the black.'

I figure something in my tone backed h i m off and he said,

' O f course.'

I drained the Jay, fast and furious.

G o o d title for a movie, I thought.

Sat back and waited for the hit.

It came.

The w a r m t h in your belly, the creeping illusion that every-

thing might be O K .

W h y you drink the shite, I suppose.

The best bit then.

As it snuggles up in your gut, you take the head off the

Guinness.

The bar guy might be a prick but he sure could pour a pint.

N o w a d a y s , we had so many non-nationals in the service

industry, they poured a pint of G like a pint of friggin' lager.

This guy knew his stuff, had let it sit for nigh on four m i n -

utes before he creamed the head.

I let out my breath.

H a d n ' t even k n o w n I'd been holding it for six months.

You're a dry alcoholic, that's h o w you live.

A n d this is wrestling w i t h the X a n a x , you're going to get

some moments of reprieve.

11

KEN BRUEN

Take it where you park it.

I hadn't even k n o w n a guy had slid on to the stool beside

me, till he spoke.

G o i n g ,

'Sure is hell here today.'

I was mellow enough n o w to turn and look at h i m .

Tall slender man, in a beautiful suit.

Y o u been shopping in charity shops as long as I have, y o u

k n o w the real deal.

This was it.

A r m a n i or some other way-out-of-my-reach number.

The k i n d of suit, you kick the be-jaysus out of it, it's still

there in the morning, like a faded butler, looking p r i m and

proper.

He had long hair, blond w i t h highlights, and, I'd have to

admit, a handsome face, but something . . . off.

M a y b e the mean, down-turned mouth.

I'd seen enough of them to k n o w they are very bad news.

A n d obviously he worked out, you could see the toned

muscle behind the shining white shirt.

He had a devastating smile, marred a little by two

crooked teeth.

A n d his cologne, top of the range I'm sure, but under-

neath, something else, like garlic left too long in the sun.

I nodded.

A n d he asked,

'Travelling today?'

I wanted to say,

'The fuck is it to you?'

12

THE DEVIL

but the X a n a x , mixing w i t h the booze, said,

' N o , change of plans.'

He gave that killer smile again, said,

' A h , that's a sin.'

H i s emphasis on
sin
was, I swear, deliberate.

He had the bar guy hopping, no mean feat, ordered a gin

and tonic and then, to me,

'Get you something. Jack?'

I said I was good.

Fuck, I was close to lights out but not quite out of it,

asked,

' H o w ' d you k n o w my name?'

Ravishing smile and he indicated my dead ticket on the

bar, said,

'Says so on your ticket.'

Then he gave a tiny smile, said,

'I met a guy on the plane, you k n o w h o w it goes, y o u have

a drink or two and get to shoot the shit?'

He paused to see if I was following this.

H o w difficult was it?

I nodded and he continued,

'This guy was a shrink, and y o u ' l l laugh when y o u hear

this, he studied evil.'

I didn't laugh.

He went on,

'So I asked h i m , you think there is a motive for evil?'

He gauged my response and, seeing nothing special, said,

'The guy tells me evil hones in on those closest to

redemption.'

13

KEN BRUEN

Time for my two cents. I said,

'Lets me off the hook then.'

He gave me the most eerie look, asked,

'You're beyond redemption. Jack?'

Jesus, we were having a drink and he was getting not only

theological but downright fucking personal.

I said, letting my bitterness leak all over my words,

'Let me just say, experience has taught me there's no such

thing as a free lunch. Or drink, either.'

He made a sound -1 blame the booze, the disappointment

of non-entry to America, but it seemed like fucking . . .
glee.

He said,

'I w o u l d imagine if evil were zoning in on a person, you'd

be the ideal candidate. Y o u have all the requirements for

where evil w o u l d nest and multiply. Bitterness, disbelief, and

a cynical disregard for h o w such things w o r k . '

I've been around bad guys for a lot of years, some serious

whacko jobs, the sociopaths, the psychos, the totally insane.

A n d yet this guy gave me a sense of ' Y o u ain't seen nothing

yet!'

But like I said, the blend of stuff in my stomach was

keeping me loose. I went w i t h ,

'Fascinating as this might appear, I'm not really in the

m o o d for
The Garden of Good and Evil
... I never got your

name.'

He laughed, a sound like a hyena with meat in its mouth,

said, extending his long slender hand,

'I'm C u r t . '

I thought he meant his manner - and he was certainly that

14

THE DEVIL

- till he added,

' W i t h a K . '

Almost mesmerized by the intensity of his eyes, I echoed,

'Kurt?'

He tossed his long blond tresses, and I mean tossed, said,

'Absolument.'

Like I gave a fuck. I was thinking Conrad's
Heart of

Darkness,
but being too obvious is never smart so I went

with,

'We met before?'

He took a long swig of his gin, savoured it, then said,

'If we had, surely y o u ' d remember?'

I had no reply to this, signalled the barman to hit me

again. K u r t said,

' M y treat, please.'

I let h i m . . . treat.

My drinks came and I raised the Jay, said,

'Slainte:

He seemed amused by that, asked,

'That's Irish?'

The tone was as the Brits might say,
sardonic.

A n d the feeling he was fucking w i t h me I put d o w n to the

booze, so I countered w i t h ,

'You're . . . ?'

M e a n i n g ,

'Irish you ain't.'

A n d words failed me.

If I had to guess, he sounded French, sort of, but w i t h a

complete mastery of English that was amazing.

15

KEN BRUEN

He let that hover, that damn smile in place, then,

'I'm of mixed ancestry, far too boring for a man like you

to have to bear, but I carry a German passport.'

I decided to stay on the vague interrogatory track, asked,

' Y o u on holiday, business? Leaving or arriving?'

He loved that.

I could literally see his eyes dance w i t h merriment, or as

my late mother might have said,

' W i t h devilment.'

He said,

'Business, always w o r k i n g , so many tasks awaiting my

attention. I'm currently headed for a city called Galway. Are

you familiar with this place?'

He wanted to head fuck, I'd oblige, said,

' N o . '

N o t h i n g else.

A l m o s t a Z e n response, as my sidekick Stewart w o u l d

appreciate.

He gave me a long look, impossible to decipher, halfway

bemusement, the rest, I think, was anger.

Then he said in that so polished accent,

'A shame, I've rented a rather lovely vehicle and if you'd

been going to G a l w a y . . .'

A n d all of a sudden I was tired of h i m . Checked my

watch, the bus . . . yeah, the bus was about ready to leave. I

drained my shot glass, the Guinness following fast.

I stood up and he asked,

'Leaving already?'

I gave h i m my best look, full of empty promise, said.

16

THE DEVIL

'It's been a blast.'

Gave it an American twang to shove it home.

He extended that languid hand again and his grip was

fierce. He said,

'I feel we'll meet again.'

N o t if I could fucking help it. I left h i m w i t h ,

'Then the jar is on me.'

As I walked away, I could feel his eyes boring into me.

Jesus, one creepy guy.

I got outside the terminal and noticed an Aer Lingus lady

watching me.

Since our national airline, like the rest of the country, was

to hell and gone, it was rare to actually see the green

uniform, not to mention an Irish person.

She said,

'I'm sorry to bother you, but are you a friend of the man

you were having a drink with?'

The fuck was this?

She read my face, understanding exactly what I was

thinking, and continued,

'Since the difficulties with our company, some of us are

assigned to just being on site and helping where we can.'

Unless she could get me to America, she was shite out of

luck.

I asked,

'Is there a point to this?'

She looked mortified in the w a y only an Irish w o m a n can,

that is, shamed yet defiant.

She said.

17

KEN BRUEN

'I've been monitoring the departures hall for over a year

and I can pretty well read faces now, it passes the time, and

earlier I noticed that man due to his striking appearance,

and then, I hope this doesn't seem too far fetched, he seemed

to zone in on y o u . '

The bitch was mad, time to get another line of w o r k .

I said, sarcasm all over me words,

'Stalking me?'

She stared at her feet in pure agony for a moment, then

the head came up, jaw strong.

' A n d when you passed through Customs, he actually

smiled. As if he knew y o u ' d be . . . re-emerging.'

I gave a bitter laugh, said,

' H e was right.'

She was into it now, a whole conspiracy Hving in front of

her, said,

' A n d he tracked you till you went to the bar, then he's

sitting with y o u . '

I saw the bus approach, tried to keep the irritation to a

low, asked,

'Spit it out, what is it you think is going on?'

She ignored my shot, said,

'I'd be very careful of people like that, sir. I grew up in