Authors: Colin Falconer
Tags: #History, #Asia, #Military, #Vietnam War, #Southeast, #Literature & Fiction, #Historical Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Literary Fiction, #Action & Adventure, #Sagas, #Thrillers, #Historical, #Mysteries & Thrillers
War Baby (40 page)
McSorley’s Old Alehouse, New York
Webb looked at his watch. Almost midnight. The others had drifted home in taxis, and now there was only him and Wendy Doyle. ‘Look at the time,’ he said.
‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘My flight leaves JFK at eight in the morning, for Christ’s sake. I’d better find a cab. I haven’t even packed.’
‘It’s been nice meeting you, Miss Doyle.’
‘The pleasure was mine. I’ve read all of your books.’ She held out her hand. ‘It’s been a hell of an evening.’ She finished her drink. ‘I suppose it’s the last time your old gang will be together. Do you think they’ll have a fifty-year reunion?’
‘I don’t plan to come back for that one.’
Webb reached into his case, unsnapped the lock and took out an empty bottle of Bushmills. She squinted, focusing with difficulty on the faded ink lines that had been pasted on to the back of the bottle.
I courted the dark angel,
her faithful devotee,
saw her lay her hand on others;
yet she always held her touch from me.
I courted the dark angel
and followed her, as lovers will,
she was my fascination;
and yet she spurned me still.
Each day she wore some new disguise
yet with the same pale skin and staring eyes,
so I knew her all the same,
through every move of her deadly game.
I courted the dark angel
in the casual ways of youth,
a furtive smile, a wink of eye,
and yet she always passed me by.
But she won’t turn from me forever,
for I have a certain charm,
even for one as cold as she;
one day she will come back for me.
I do not fear her cold, cold lips
or the icy touch of her fingertips,
for I found her secret in the chase.
As we lie together in the dark, in the consummate embrace
of our earthy, bridal bed —
she whispers: fear the living, not the dead.
‘When did he give you this?’
‘The last time he was in New York, when he came out to the house with Mickey. He knew he was going to Yugoslavia. He told me to drink a toast to him with it if he didn’t come back.’
She handed him back the bottle ‘Did he write that?’
‘He probably stole it from somewhere. Knowing Ryan.’ He called for the bar tab. ‘I’ll get it. I got a big advance for the book.’
As they walked out into the street, Doyle noticed his limp for the first time. She wondered if it was the wound, or something else, that had finally driven him back to Long Island. But that was not her business.
She said: ‘What do you think he meant by the last line?’
‘Well, if he wrote it, and that’s a big if, he could have meant that there’s no need to be afraid of dying when this world’s such a shit of a place. And like us, he’s seen the world at its very worst. Or perhaps it was more personal.’
‘Personal?’
‘Well, he didn’t like people very much.’
‘Ryan was the most gregarious man I’ve ever met. He hated being alone.’
‘I didn’t say he didn’t like drinking and getting laid. I said he didn’t like people. Getting close one on one. You don’t have to do that in a crowd.’
‘You’re pretty hard on the fellow.’
Webb took a letter from his jacket pocket. ‘You’re going back to Sarajevo?’
‘It’s where the big stories are right now.’
‘Will you give this to Jenny when you see her?’
She took the envelope. ‘Of course.’
A chill wind snaked through the streets. Doyle flagged down a passing cab. ‘Want to share a ride?’
Webb shook his head. ‘I’m heading in the other direction. Have a good flight.’
She jumped in, wound down the window. ‘By the way, you never finished the story. What happened to Mickey?’
‘She’s doing okay.’
‘Do you ever see her?’
‘Every morning at breakfast,’ he said. ‘We got married last fall.’
Find Colin Falconer at:
https://colinfalconer.wordpress.com
or on Twitter at @colin_falconer
Born in north London, Colin Falconer worked for many years in TV and radio and freelanced for many of Australia's leading newspapers and magazines. He has been a novelist for the last twenty years, with his work published widely in the UK, US and Europe. His books have been translated into seventeen languages.
