HP Lovecraft's Magazine of Horror - Weird Tales

38 H .P . L O V E C R A F T ’S M A G A Z IN E O F H O R R O R
night the door opened. The figure that filled the entrance
couldn’t be Carlos. Feeney said he was a runt; this guy topped
six-four. Carlos wore cheap suits. My visitor’s gray double
breasted was the kind of expensive that doesn’t need to advertise,
set off with a quiet maroon tie and shoes like mirrors.
Definitely not what you saw in Feeney’s more than once in a
lifetime. Big, but he moved like a welterweight. Heads turned
as he glided past the bar straight to my booth and skewered me
with that commanding voice I’d heard at Clarke’s.
“Daniel Morris.” Statement, not a question. Without
thinking I stood up in respect.
“We can sit.” He melted down into the booth gracefully as
a woman half his size. From the face I couldn’t tell what he
was—Irish, Italian, German, Jewish, you name it. He looked
like the whole history of Man, sitting there still as a stone, manicured
hands resting on the table, deep-set black eyes looking
clean through me. After a minute I noticed that he never
blinked. Just fixed me with those two cold marbles like
Judgment Day.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, can I ask—?”
“Ender,” he finished my thought. “From the Front
Office.”
I ducked away from that unsettling stare. “I don’t want to
sound stupid but are you—?”
“An angel? Not that nor any opposite.” Ender allowed me
a millimeter of smile. “They always ask. The prejudice of
parochial thinking notwithstanding, there’s nothing adversarial
about us. High to low, we’re all one system. The only evil spirits
we get are from here. Your kind has a capacity for guilt equal
to its penchant for destruction. My department is Sanitation.
We remove toxic waste.”
Sanitation. Feeney said that about Charley. “Toxic?”
“The unlamented Lenihan.”
“So it was you I heard.”
“And Timmy,” Ender admitted. “The link between you
two AT&T would kill for.” Like a statue he sat there. I could
feel the power coming off him in waves while his broad chest
never rose or fell. Ender didn’t breathe. “So Timmy wants out.
They all do and never will leave, just as they never knew how
to live..”
“Where’s Timmy?”
“Ifrinn—is that the word?”
“Hell.” I knew that much. “The Irish word for hell.”
“Some of your neighbors call it that.” Ender moved a little,
a kind of shrug. “Tedious place, boring, but no more pain
than people bring with them. Your brother deserves it.”
“The hell he does! I don’t care who you are, don’t knock
Timmy to me.”
His black eyes widened with a glimmer of interest and
maybe a little more respect. “And you want to get him out.”
“I will get him out.”
“To what, Mister Morris?”
“Out of there. What’ll it take?”
Another millimeter. What Ender called a smile would give
frostbite to an Eskimo. “From you? Perhaps more than you are
willing to part with.”
I looked down into my Bushmill’s. “No way. I should’ve—”
“Taken better care of him?”
“All right, yeah.” Really bugged me the way he read my
thoughts, but one thing I’ve known since grade school. Big
time or small, there’s a price on everything. I already did
Lenihan. What else could be so bad? “If I get Timmy out,
what’s the deal?”
The statue of Ender moved slightly. “The Front Office has
already framed your agreement.”
“Front—that’s hell?”
“No.” Ender allowed himself to look annoyed. “I said it’s
all one system with different departments, different agreements.
Yours is non-negotiable.”
“Okay, what?”
“Timmy moves on. You take his place.”
Before I could even begin to feel scared, Ender went on.
“You have unique qualities, Daniel. Timmy was sunlit, you’re
the dark. Do you have the heart to move him on?”
“And stay myself?”
“Removing Lenihan was your choice. Where we put you
is ours.”
True, I was past no return. I’d been scared all my life but
nothing like that moment, Ender looking straight through me
and maybe knowing my refusal already. I swallowed the rest of
my drink, needing to stall. “Just tell me one thing straight. Is
Charley down there now?”
“Where else? He was born for it. Choose, Daniel. Yay or
nay.”
At least I’d sent Lenihan to the right place. For the rest,
man, I had to think hard on that. “I don’t know.”
“Yes you do.”
“Gimme time to think. One day.”
“Only one day?” Ender glided to his feet smoothly. “My
compliments, sir. Better and braver men than you have hesitated
months, years, and then turned us down. The same time
here tomorrow night.” Ender took out an expensive kidskin
wallet and laid a twenty by my glass. “Tonight is on us.”
He looked around at the curious regulars who’d been eyeing
him. I heard a bored weariness when he spoke. “That’s
what we deal with, Daniel. Dangerous losers. You’ll do splendidly.”
Yes or no. Maybe I knew my answer already; that didn’t
stop the No from screaming at me. All right, Timmy was weak
but people loved him. I never had the knack to be loved, never
could trust enough, never married or stuck with any woman,
not even a decent job ever. Okay, I never ratted on anyone and
always looked out for Timmy until that became my life. How
far would that go toward parole? I remembered Father Joe’s
lectures on sin and atonement. As for Revelation, I suspect
John was snorting something heavy when he wrote that.
Take their lousy deal and I was dead as Timmy. Then
again, could I go on living with him stuck in that place? The
whole ‘hood mourned him. I wouldn’t even leave a cat for
someone to adopt. Monique? Forget it. Her parting words said
it all—
“You’re a bum like your brother. Get out of my life.”
So what’s so good here I should hang onto?
The next night I walked into Feeney’s before twelve and