A Fifth of Bruen: Early Fiction of Ken Bruen
- Автор: Бруен Кен
- Год: 2006
- Язык: английский
- Год: Busted Flush Press
- ISBN: 978-0-9767157-2-6
- Жанр: Триллеры
Электронная книга - «A Fifth of Bruen: Early Fiction of Ken Bruen». Краткое содержание книги:
“Oh, you don’t want to sit there, love, no, you don’t want to do that.”
“I’m waiting for someone.”
“Well, my goodness, love, don’t wait long. It’s not safe here.”
He wondered where was, and thanked her for her concern. Richie was expecting him at 10 for a drink. His woman had walked at Christmas and soon after, Richie did the same from his job. He was smoking a lot of dope.
“Nothing hard,” he explained.
Danny liked the explanations for drugs these days.
“Designer”... or “Recreational.” As if they were a nigh useful fashion accessory and definitely not hazardous. His favourite description was “soft drugs.” Did they make you soft in the head, he wondered.
That too.
A nagging suspicion tugged at Danny that just maybe Richie was into dealing. He had to put this on the back burner. If such were so, didn’t Richie qualify for an event? He shrugged it away.
Richie’s most recent acquisition was “ICE.” An amphetamine derivative that was popular in Japan. Just beginning to dent the market in Britain. According to the stories, it was used originally by the Kamikaze pilots. Danny thought that was a suitable metaphor all in itself, but as a selling point? Danny had asked him,
“So what does it do for you?”
“It makes you hyper tense, but like, you see with 100 % perception. You don’t eat, sleep. And it lingers for about three days.”
Danny said,
“Bit like love, is it?”
In fact, the ‘events’ did much the same for Danny. Two youths, black and white, approached him. As if they materialized from the shadows. He hadn’t seen them enter the park, and resolved to cut out these reveries... and muttered,
“Money-vampires. Predators from the pavement.”
“Got the time, John?” they began.
And so did he.
Danny’s daydreaming had nearly cost him his life. He never saw the third. Later, he’d ruefully parody T. S. Eliot,
“Who is the third
Who walks behind.”
The knife went in on his left side, deep and ferocious.
He was never quite sure how he’d gotten away. The sound of the bat’s swing and his own agonized grunts were the soundtrack. That and breaking bone.
A wedge of money persuaded the cab driver to take him to casualty, plus a mugging yarn.
They patched him up and he was sitting in reception after, waiting for a pain-killer prescription. A nurse stood over him.
“What happened to you, at all?”
Soft brogue.
He looked at her. Average height with dark, curly hair, blue eyes and a full mouth. Pretty in the Irish fashion. Her name tag read, N. Mulkerns.
“Is the ‘N’ for Nurse or Nosy?”
“Nora... what are you so touchy about?”
“Go away, Nora, peddle the Mother Theresa act down the wards.”
She smiled and it transformed her. An average, pretty face came close to beauty. Not completely but in there.
“Aren’t you the wicked one, you have a mighty fierce tongue on you.”
He stood up and pain took a mighty wallop at him.
“Fuck,” he said.
“What kind of language is that from a nice lookin’ man? I’ll get you a cup of tea, to sweeten your disposition.”
She did.
“No bikkies, I’m afraid, economy cuts.”
Danny took a swig of the tea, realized he was parched and drained it. A burning sensation like memories.
“Well now, you certainly enjoyed that.”
Danny felt for his watch... gone in the event.
“What time is it?”
“Half past nine, I’m off duty at 10.”
Danny looked closely at her, said,
“Why are you in my face, is this some follow up treatment or are you just trying to annoy the shit out of me, ’cos believe you me, you’re succeeding.”
She put her hand on her hip and replied,
“You think I’m a hussy, don’t you, that I’m forward. Bur that’s how things are today. It’s a woman’s prerogative to do the asking.”
Danny reckoned she wasn’t all in it.
“You’re not all in it, are yah... O.K. let’s go for a drink, just let me get my pills.”
“In case you got lucky... is it... I’ll get my coat.”
Danny went to the phones and found the pub’s number. After a delay, Richie came on the line.
“Richie, I can’t make it.”
“Who can, Daniel, but we have a little something to put pepper in the old pencil.”
“What, is this drug humour, is that it?”
“Whoa, lighten up, Daniel... I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Nora was waiting. She’d put on a belted navy coat over her uniform. To Danny she looked like a policewoman, but he knew he was batting paranoid.
“So,” she said.
“What?”
“Do you like my coat?”
“Are you serious, I don’t know you five minutes, you ASK me do I like you’re coat.”
“It’s not a difficult question.”
“Look, I don’t even know if I like you... do you want me to call a mini cab or wot?”
Book II
Nora had a car, a beat up mini in what was once bright red. She said,
“Don’t look at it like that, it goes great, the appearance keeps it from being stolen.”
“Promise me one thing... Nora, don’t tell me it has a pet name and start outlining a history of loveable eccentricity. It’s a car, and it goes? Right, let’s go.”
She drove fast but measured. Danny’s wound throbbed and they stopped at a late open chemist. He had the prescription filled and got back into the car.
Nora smiled.
“I hope you didn’t buy any of them condom things.”
“Excuse me?”
“I never do it on a first date so you’ll have jumped the gun... if you’ll pardon my Freudian slip. Let’s go to The Anchor. It’s a quiet place.”
They did.
They did.
The pub was near empty. They’d just sat down when the barman came over.
“Evening all. What’s your poison?”
Nora ordered a medium sweet sherry and Danny asked for a double scotch. Nora said,
“No you won’t... bring him a mineral water... you’re not to mix alcohol with those pills.”
Smirk from the barman. Nora said,
“Don’t sulk, I’ll treat you. What do I call you?”
“Danny.”
“The pipes... the pipes are calling.”
“That’s very original... Nora, it’s Nora, is it? I’ve never had that line before.”
“That’s my name. You say it like a caress, as if you were reciting a poem. I’d like you to drop the sarcasm though.” The barman brought the drinks.
Nora said, “Sláunte.”
Danny said nothing.
She took a sip of the sherry and said,
“If I’m not mistaken, Clapham... and the year... hmm... 92... m... m. Are you married, Danny?”
“I was.”
“Drove her away with your levity, did you?”
Danny drank the mineral water and knew he shouldn’t reply.
All his instincts said to batten down.
“Well, Nora... interesting you should use the word ‘drove.’ My wife Katie... and our little girl, Darcy, were waiting for a bus at Camberwell Green. A joyrider ploughed into them. Cut Darcy in half... and she was only a tiny thing... killed Katie too. People said the joyrider couldn’t have been more than 14, said he couldn’t even see over the wheel. He legged it and they didn’t catch him... not yet anyway.”
Nora looked sick.