The Barkeep Read Online Free PDF Page A

volunteer for some sort of counterinsurgency unit. He said I’d be sent to Saigon for training and then would work primarily behind our own lines. Fresh sheets at night, hot and cold running bar girls, a chance to shack with a piece of hooch. Counterinsurgency? Count me in. But I’ll tell you this, in a lot of ways it was more than I bargained for.”
    “What were you, in an intelligence unit?”
    “Don’t be a fool. I ain’t exactly dumb, but no one in his right mind woulda hired me for something to do with intelligence. No, we was only about elimination. We’d get our orders, go out and take care of it. Small villages within our sector, spies working in Saigon itself. When we showed up, they all shit because we never left nothing breathing behind, not even the pigs, that was our way. It was hard at first, coming to grips with what we was doing, but I managed, and it sure as hell beat crawling through the jungles at night, pissing my pants in fear. It’s funny what kind of hell you can get used to. And the things I learned, boy, you couldn’t get them things on your own in a hundred years. When I came back, what I fell into just seemed like a continuation of my war. I was in a slaughterhouse in Texas for a bit, killing those dumb pieces of beef with a bolt gun at that same spot in the head I showed you, pulling out the stinking stomachs full of acid. And then I got an opportunity to raise it up a notch.”
    “By becoming a contract killer, Birdie? Is that what you’re saying?”
    “I was what I was, is all. Was a man named Preacher who gave me my running orders. Never knew who was running him and never cared. He gave me a name, an address, any sundry instructions for the job, and a do-by date. That was all I needed. It doesn’t take long to shadow a name enough to figure all the angles, as long as you know how to finish it off.”
    “And you were hired to kill my mother.”
    “It wasn’t much of a job, truth be told. She was too nice a lady to make it hard. I put on a brown uniform, told her through the door I had a package to deliver. At one point she turned her back to me, and that was it.”
    “Who hired you?”
    “That’s the question, isn’t it? But Preacher, he never told me that. Ever. It was just a name, an address, special instructions and a do-by date.”
    “That’s a hell of a story.”
    “You don’t believe me,” said Grackle. “I can tell. But it don’t much matter either way. Was a whore in Lubbock named Stella who used to scream out like a gut-shot bear in the middle of the action. I never believed a bit of it, but it still felt good. You’ll carry this with you a long time. And I want you to know, I did a clean job before I messed it up for them police. Your momma, she didn’t feel nothing. She went peaceful as a piece of veal.”
    “Fuck you,” blurted out Justin, surprising himself at the vehemence of his words.
    “Maybe, yeah. But in time you’ll be thanking me. It just needs some curing is all.”
    Justin stared for a moment and tried to gauge his own emotions. They were pretty damn raw, as raw as if he actually were face-to-face with his mother’s killer. Something in the old man was drawing the worst out of Justin, had been drawing it out from the first, and he couldn’t quite figure out what. It was more than just his false claim about Justin’s mother, it was something in the old man’s smell, maybe, or in the old man’s very being. Justin took a moment to let his emotions rise within him, rise and burn and wash through him until he was left with nothing but the placid stillness.
    “Okay,” said Justin. “I think I’ve heard enough of your story, and seen you chew enough burnt muscle to keep me nauseous for a week. So what is it you want here, Birdie? What’s your angle?”
    “No angle. This is my farewell tour, like I said. A chance to offer a confession and to ease my soul. An opportunity to meet face-to-face the son of one of my victims and see that my