Merrick

THE URGENCY OF SHADOWS.

We shared a cab to the West 59^th Street Bridge. Merrick said

‘We’re getting out.’

We did.

He watched the taillights of the Yellow cab disappear then reached in his jacket,

pulled out the guns, said

‘Gotta toss em.’

Shite, I hate to waste a perfectly good weapon. But my time on The Falls, I knew

a hot piece could get you ten in the cage. I nodded.

He flung them hard and wide. They seemed to circle above the dark water for a

moment, like birds of ill prey. Then they hit with a small splash.

Merrick looked at me, said

‘Ryan, you did real good, you had my back.’

I shrugged it off, with

‘Ary, t’was nothing.’

Another cab was coming along and he hailed it, said

‘I’ll drop you in Brooklyn, then head on home.’

As we hit The Borough, Merrick said

‘I grew up here, me, Gabriel Cohen, lot’s of god guys, we walked The Perfect

Square.’

He was musing on that, then

‘You don’t give a lot away Ryan.’

True.

I said

‘Give it time.’

The cab pulled over and Merrick said

‘I got it.’

I asked

‘We good for the match on Sunday?’

He smiled, and thing is, for such a big guy, hard ass written all over his lived in

face, when he smiled, he lit up, like a five year old kid. He said

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Irish guys pounding each other with sticks,

what’s not to love?’

I watched the cab pull away, thought about secrets. You tell me a guy is an open

book, I’ll tell you he’s full of shite. Or, he just hasn’t had the world beat the living

be-Jaysus outa him enough. And it will.

One of my secrets, I drew out the pack of Lucky Strike, my Zippo, had the logo

………………………….Tower

Fired up.

Americans, love their guns, love their cars but mention a cig, they go downright

fundamental. Do I think it’s hypocritical, no……..just a bloody pain in the arse.

Got inside, put my key in the cheap as shit lock, I’d nothing to steal and turned on

the light. Knew there’d been somebody in my apartment, if 2 rooms constitute

such. Reached inside my old combat jacket, my own insurance, pulled out the Sig

Sauer, racked the slide, moved to the one other room, the bedroom. My instincts

were screaming like a damn banshee but they were the same one’s that kept me

out of Long Kesh. I nudged the bedroom door, the Sig aimed.

On my bed, laid out like a corpse, was a clown suit.

It HAD the desired effect, scared the be-Jaysus out of me. Worse, When my body

stopped pumping adrenaline, I ventured a little closer to the thing, reminded me of

the suits laid out for the dead back home, just before the wake began.

Nearly missed it.

In the top loophole, a four leaf shamrock.

I get spooked, I get movie literate, dunno why, escapism I suppose. I thought of

The Untouchables, and Ness, realizing, he was

………………….Touchable.