Cross - Ken Bruen [57]
'Isn't that what got you boyos in the trouble you're in, issuing invitations like that?'
He took it well, said, 'I don't think I'll be taking advantage of you.'
Good point.
Before I could say that, he added, 'It's only that I don't like to drink my tea alone, and I thought, seeing as you're soaked, you might like to join me.'
I could hear the rain still hammering down so I said, 'Why not?'
He led me to the vestry, and it had a small alcove to the side. He closed the door, began to do tea stuff. He indicated I should sit so I did, on a hard chair, even though there was a soft, well-worn armchair beside it.
He asked, 'You don't want the easier option?'
Priests, you got to watch them, they sneak up on you with loaded questions.
I said, 'I figured that was yours.'
The kettle was boiling, making a sound like friendship, a rare sound to me.
He said, 'But at a guess, you take the hard route most times.'
See, just like I said, sneaky.
He heated the cups – you don't see that any more – then used real tea, Liptons no less, and spread some Hobnob biscuits on a plate, the ones with one side covered in chocolate. I don't know, that alone made me like him. He put the lot on a small table, urged, 'Dig in.'
I asked, 'What do I call you?'
He wiped crumbs from his mouth, put out his hand, said, 'I don't see you calling me Father, so Jim is fine. And you're?'
I took his hand, strong grip.
'Jack Taylor.'
Didn't ring any bells for him, thank God. He poured my tea and I asked, 'How's business?'
He loved that, took a moment to savour it.
'We're having some problems, but I'm optimistic.'
Or an idiot.
I asked, 'Despite all the . . . problems . . . what's with the attitude? I mean, the top guys, they're still as arrogant as ever, still issuing pronouncements and what do they call them . . . edicts? What's with that?'
He sighed, admitted, 'Old habits die hard.'
Which was fair enough.
He had a question of his own.
'So what do you do, Jack, beside light a riot of candles?'
A riot, I liked it.
'Mainly, I don't mind my own business, bit like the Church.'
I tried the tea. It was strong, bitter, like the old days, but at least it was familiar. I had another question.
'Where are you on the nature of evil?'
He reconsidered me, gave me a thoughtful scan.
'Odd query.'
'That's an answer?'
He smiled, said, 'I'm playing for time.'
I waited, then he said, 'I believe in it. I've seen it, felt it, and, alas, it seems to be on the increase.'
Jesus, he had that right.
I pushed, 'If you knew someone who was truly evil, beyond so-called redemption, what would you suggest?'
He went with the script.
'We believe that no one is beyond saving.'
My turn to smile. 'You're not getting out much, I'd say.'
A bell tinkled and he said, 'The confessional, I'll have to go. Perhaps we might continue this another time.'
I stood up, said, 'What's the penance these days, three Hail Marys and a Glory Be?'
He gave my shoulder a warm grip, said, 'You haven't been for a time, I'd think?'
I said, 'I met the devil in Shop Street the other day.'
He wasn't surprised.
'He does tend to be in the commercial sector. How was he?'
'Bad teeth.'
He enjoyed that. As we headed out, I said, 'He offered to shake my hand.'
'And?'
The rain had stopped. I looked round the church – it seemed warm and I was reluctant to leave, but headed for the door, said, 'Take a wild guess.'
He said, 'Never underestimate the Antichrist.'
I told him I'd bear it in mind.
I continued to ring Stewart's mobile. I was demented with worry. What if Gail had taken him out too? I'd just lost Cody, I couldn't cope with another young guy going down.
It was nearly a week later when he finally answered. 'Yeah?'
I was so stunned to hear him, I didn't speak for a moment and he repeated, 'Yeah?'
'Where the hell have you been?'
'This can only be Jack Taylor. The warmth just seeps from you, Jack.'
I was spitting iron, translate as seriously enraged, shouted, 'What's going on? What happened with . . . you know . . . and where the hell have you been?'