Dublin Noir: The Celtic Tiger vs. The Ugly American by Ken Bruen

Author:Ken Bruen [Bruen, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Short Stories & Anthologies, Anthologies, United States, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, International Mystery & Crime, Anthologies & Literature Collections, Genre Fiction, Collections & Anthologies, ebook
ISBN: 1888451920
Amazon: B008G3GCEQ
Publisher: Akashic Books
Published: 2006-03-01T22:00:00+00:00

motion of slashing up, then planting that thing right

in the cop’s thick neck.

But the cop jumped back into the street yelling,

“You fucking rice-grinding shite!” Without a

glance back at Reed, he trotted down the street and

hopped into his small, unmarked car. Within

twenty seconds the vehicle was racing past Reed

toward the speeding Honda.

An hour later, Reed was behind a young

American couple slowly strolling toward one of

the local hotels. The five-story building had a

decent restaurant and bar in the lobby. Reed hoped

they were staying at the hotel and were on their

way back instead of stopping for a bite and pint.

He stayed back a ways until they were to the door

of the hotel, then closed the distance to see where

they were headed. The man was maybe thirty and

built like a model, too thin and too neat. The

woman was younger, about twenty-three and fresh-

looking like a lot of the Americans from California

or Florida. She had long blond hair and looked

like she’d had to grease herself to slide into the

Levi’s gripping her hips.

Reed came up the front steps and almost

knocked into them in the lobby. They had stopped

to look over the restaurant’s posted menu. Reed

peered at the man. He wouldn’t be thinking about a

toasted sandwich if he had a girl like that stuck on

his arm. Typical Yank.

He eased past them like he was heading to the

lifts, and then a miracle happened. They followed

him. It couldn’t have been more natural. As he

stood by the buttons, he asked the man, “What

floor?”

He had a funny accent, even just saying, “Four,

please.”

Reed nodded and mumbled, “Me too,” as he hit

the button. He glanced over at the couple. The girl

smiled at him with a dazzling spray of white.

Reed paused so they could get off the elevator,

then followed them down the narrow hallway. The

cheap carpet made a swoosh sound as they all

glided along. His right hand was up on his hip.

The couple slowed at a room five from the end

of the hall and the man fumbled with the plastic

card key. Reed heard the door click and then saw a

crack of light from the inside. He was on the man

right as he entered the doorway, knife out and

slashing deep across his throat before the girl even

turned to see what the funny noise was. He shoved

the shocked man into the bathroom to his left and

advanced down on the girl as she turned. Before

she could say a word, he had a hand across her

beautifully sculpted face and the knife deep into

her solar plexus. He wiggled his hand, slicing

through veins and heart tissue as he watched the

life seep right out of her blue eyes. He pulled the

blade out and sliced into her left breast, amazed at

the clear liquid that gushed out before the blood.

Fucking implants. Unnatural.

He carefully placed her on the wide, unmade

bed, even setting her head on the pillow. Then he

turned and stepped toward the bathroom. The man

was motionless on the ground and the blood still

seeped from the massive wound on his neck. Reed

had to step away from the door as the red ocean

threatened to flow over the threshold.

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