The Evil And The Pure (29 page)

Tulip shuffled closer to him. “Do you go to confession?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have the right.”

“Everybody has the right to confess.”

“I think those of us who deliberately
ignore God’s laws have no right to appeal to him when it suits us.”

“You think
I
shouldn’t go either?”

Big Sandy smiled warmly. “I don’t think selling your body counts as a great sin, though I’m sure lots of h
oly Joes wouldn’t agree with me.” They shared a laugh, then Big Sandy’s features darkened. “My sins run deeper than yours. I hurt people. God has compassion for those who cheapen themselves but do no harm. By the same measure I believe he has none for those who injure others, destroying where he has created.”

“But if they see the error of their ways,
stop and confess…”

“Som
e can redeem themselves,” Big Sandy nodded. “But there are those whose souls are blackened, whose hands are stained with blood, who…” He stopped, coughed, afraid he was giving too much away.

Tulip studied her bodyguard, his broad
, plain face, his sandy hair, his scarred hands. She tried to imagine the life he’d lived, the terrible things he might have done. “I think you’re wrong,” she said. “I think God forgives all sins if the will to be forgiven is strong enough.”

“
What about atonement?” Big Sandy countered. “If you were a priest, what penance would you set a man who’d murdered for money, who…” Cutting himself short again, figuring,
Not with Sapphire. Have to be careful. Can’t trust this girl.

“All sins can be atoned for,” Tulip insisted. “I’m not sure what a killer would have to
do to make his peace with God, but I’m sure he could.”

“You believe in absolute redemption?”

“Yes.”

“No matter what a man has done?”

“Yes.”

Big Sandy reached across and touched the girl’s chin lightly, l
ovingly. Tulip didn’t pull away. She could see he wasn’t a man who would take advantage of a child. “It’s a wonderful world if you’re right,” Big Sandy said softly. Released her and added morosely, “But I don’t think you are.”

After that they waited in silence for Kevin to return.

THIRTY

Another stale Friday at the Church of
Sacred Martyrs, Clint slumped on a pew near the back, listlessly making deals with his regulars. A grey November day outside. Clint’s shoulders wet from the rain, he hadn’t bothered with an umbrella. Not caring if he caught a cold, not caring about anything.

Dave
had phoned earlier in the week (Tuesday? Wednesday?) to ask about Phials. “Time isn’t on my side,” he’d snapped. “I need to launch my bid for Sugar’s shares
now
. Are you getting anywhere with Phials?”

Clint thought about lying or concealing the truth. Lacked the heart to. “Not ruh-ruh-really,” he sighed. “I made a few quh-queries but he’s not tuh-tuh-talk
ing. Clams up tight whenever I raise the suh-subject.” Careful to phrase his response in the present tense, making it seem like they were still friends.

“I didn’t think you’d crack him,” Dave grunted. “I’ll s
end some men in to sniff around — he might have the formula stashed somewhere. If not, I’ll ask him one last time if he’s playing straight with me. If he sticks to his story I’ll have to come down hard and keep my fingers crossed that he’s been lying. In the meantime, keep asking on the off-chance.”

Clint replaying the conve
rsation, miserably fixating on,
I didn’t think you’d crack him.
Cousin Dave anticipating Clint’s failure. Clint no longer even able to console himself with the thought that he’d fucked up gloriously. He’d simply been playing along to sad, pathetic form.

A girl slid up
next to Clint, distracting him, Tess something-or-other. Seventeen or eighteen, thin, small sharp eyes, long untidy hair, a pinched unattractive face, deep frown lines around her mouth and eyes, looked like she never smiled. A dedicated junkie but only an occasional client of Clint’s. She usually scored from one of the neighbourhood’s cheaper dealers, only coming to Clint when she managed to save up for a decent fix. Tried to smile as she cuddled up to him, trembling, even wetter than Clint, brushing hair out of her eyes. “All right?”

Clint nodded wearily. “What do you want?”

Tess twitched. “I need some smack.”

“I
’m out. Coke, E’s, grass, that’s it.”

“Coke then.” Shaking bad now.

Clint reached inside his jacket. Paused. “Money first.”

Tess stopped shaking. “I don’t have any.”

Clint took his hand away. “You think this is the NHS?”

“I can pay you next week.”

“Get the fuck out of here.” Not needing this, life bad enough as it was without needle whores trying to stiff him.

“Come on,” Tess moaned, clutching his right hand, squeezing hard. “You know I’m good for it. I’ll pay you Monday, I swear, but I need it now, I –”

“Fuck.” Clint freed his hand. “Off.”

Tess stared at him dully.
She hadn’t really expected him to give her anything on tab, but nothing to lose by trying. Emotionlessly kicked into her next strategy. “I’ll blow you, fuck you, let you do whatever you want. I can do it here.” Started to go down on her knees.

Clint pushed her away
with disgust. “Just leave,” he snarled.

“Come on,” Tess pleaded, trying the smile again. “I’ll do you good, let you fuck me up the a
rse, anything, as many times as you can come.”

Clint sneered at the girl.
Even if he wasn’t a sexual failure, he wouldn’t have anything to do with this skinny, ugly bitch. “You think I’m hard-up? You think I’d put my dick in diseased scum like you?” Tess stared back wordlessly. “Get the fuck out of here. Go blow your usual dealer. Maybe he’ll –”

“I can’t,
” Tess cried, her voice rising. “Tel was busted and I can’t find Sammy. I think he’s dead. You’re the only –”

“Shut up,
” Clint snapped, digging her in the ribs with an elbow, seeing heads near the front of the church turning. “Keep quiet or I walk.” Tess pressed a finger to her lips, tears streaming from her eyes, Clint unmoved. He checked his watch. “I’ll be here another hour. Hit the streets. Get some money. Come back and I’ll –”

“I don’t ha
ve any money,” Tess moaned.

“Sell your
snatch to guys who are less demanding than me. Try the shops on the Walworth Road and offer discount blow jobs. I’m sure you’ll find
someone
prepared to pay for the privilege. Come back when you have a few quid.”

Tess started to rise. Stopped as a wave of sickness slammed her hard. Sat again. “I need it now.” More tears, more shaking. “I’ll do whatever you
want later, but I need a hit first. Please, I’m begging you, we’re in church, please, just –”

“Nothing for nothing.” Clint was losing patience fast. “You think I’ve nothing better to do than argue with junkie whores? Fuck off. Get money. Come back when you can afford it.” Tess opened her mouth to argue. “
One more word and I won’t give you the shit even if you get the cash together.”

Tess’ mouth closed, her eyes hardened, the tears vanished, her upper lip curled like a gorgon’s. “Prick,” she muttered. “All the fucking same.” Shaking, she began to rise again. Stopped again. Stared at Clint. Smiled and sat. He sighed and made to slide away from her. “I’ll scream rape.”

Clint paused. “What?”

“
Rape.” Her eyes cold but cunning. She raised her short skirt, gripped the fabric of her knickers and tugged — they ripped and she slid them down over her knees.

“Guh-guh-get the fuck out of huh-here,” Clint sniffed uneasily.

Tess dragged the back of her left hand across her lips, smearing the thin line of lipstick she’d been wearing. Cheeks stained with tears from earlier. She looked a fright, like someone who’d been attacked.

“Nuh-nuh-nobody will buh-believe you.” Clint sweating, studying the
heads in the pews in front. Nobody was looking at him, but if the girl started screaming…

“Of course they will,” Tess
leered, sensing Clint’s uncertainty. “If I scream, the others will rush back here to help me. They’ll call the cops. If you stay, the cops will find the drugs on you, so you’ll have to run and that’ll make you look guilty.” Grinning at her slyness and the hold she had over him. It wouldn’t have worked with Tel or Sammy. They carried blades and would have slit her throat. But Clint was weak. He’d cave in. Stunned that she hadn’t realised this before.

“Luh-luh-luh-listen,” Clint said nervously. “I huh-have some huh-huh-heroin at home. Get some muh-money, come back, and I cuh-cuh-cuh-can –”

“Give me the coke and E’s,” Tess said calmly, “or I’ll scream that you stuck your fingers up my cunt.”

Clint started shaking worse than Tess, his spirit crushed, a total failure, feeling the walls of his life giving way, the roof crashing down, not just not one of the big boys, but a jerk who could be held to ransom by a scuzzy junkie, knowing it was all downhill from here, if she got away with
it once she’d do it again, and tell her whorish junkie friends. They’d target him too and that would be the real end of him.

One last fumble for dignity,
returning her threat with one of his own. “I’ll kuh-kuh-kill you if you truh-try this. You muh-might get away with it in huh-huh-huh-here, but I’ll cuh-catch up with you outside and –”

“Just give me the
gear you feeble little prick,” Tess snarled, ruthless in victory, her eyes bright, truly powerful for the first time in her life.

Clint collapsed. He reached into his jacket, handed over a baggie of coke then a handful of E’s. He would have given it all to her if s
he’d asked – he didn’t care anymore, he was finished, what did it matter – but she was too needy to be greedy, only concerned with getting high quickly, stopping the shakes, dealing with her present hunger. Later, when she had time to think, she’d return, look for more, push him further. But for now a baggie and a handful of pills would suffice.

“You’re a prince,” she snickered, kissing hi
s cheek, Clint numb, staring at the altar, Christ hanging from the cross, thinking.
You had it fucking easy.

Tess rose, pull
ed her knickers up, slipped the drugs into her handbag, tossed Clint a brisk, “See ya later, alligator!” and hurried for the exit, eager to get home, lock herself in, get high, chill out, savour the first victory of a life full of failures and setbacks.

Clint sat comatose, retreating further inside himself, wanting to cry but unable to find tears, hating himself, hating the world, hating life, wishing he was dead, wishing he had the courage to kill himself, knowing he didn’t, looking ahead to a slow fall from… not
grace…
mediocrity
, a slow fall from mediocrity into the pit of despair and utter hopelessness, fed upon by ravenous junkies, stripped clean until he became a blight on cousin Dave’s good name, the Bush forced to despatch a man like Big Sandy to put a bullet through Clint’s brain. Death the only thing he had to look forward to now.

T
hen, in his bleakest moment, when all had been lost, a hand gripped Clint’s arm and squeezed sharply. Wincing, he looked up and found himself staring into the face of a demonic guardian angel.

“On yer fucking feet,” Gawl McCaskey snarled. “Ye’re not gonna let the bitch get away wi’ shit
e like that.”

Clint stared at the stranger, his hard scarred face, mangled left ear, tightly cropped ginger/grey hair, steely blue eyes. “Who
–”

“No time,
” Gawl snapped, yanking Clint to his feet and dragging him out of the pew. “We have t’ stop her
now
or ye’re fucked.”

“How do
yuh-yuh-you know about –”

“I was listening.” Dragging Clint towards the exit. “Waiting to see Fr Seb. Saw you dea
ling. Pulled in closer, interested. I heard what the wee cunt said. Who the fuck does she think she is?”

Through the doors, looking for Tess, spotting her s
huffling away from the church. Gawl pushed Clint ahead of him. Clint stumbled, head spinning. Turned to face the stranger. “Who the fuh-fuh-fuck are you? What duh-duh-duh-do –”

“No time,” Gawl snarled, leaning in close, his breath foul in Clint’s face. “I’ll tell ye later. Right now ye have about a minute t’ fix this. Ye have to catch that
bitch, get yer dope back, teach her she cannae fuck wi’ Clint fucking Smith.”