I surveyed my surroundings. I was standing at the end of a short, narrow alley. It was nighttime, but although there were no stars visible, the sky glowed with a pinkish hue. The buildings on either side of the alley were derelict. The door through which I had come was almost hidden behind the grunge that decorated the walls all around. Unless you were looking for it, you’d have had no idea it was there.
I walked to the end of the alley, bypassing several large mounds of rubbish. And then I got my first glimpse of the true spectacle that was Hell.
What a spectacle it was. If Heaven had been closing down for the night when I left, Hell was just starting up. The street in front of me was jammed with people, all moving at a speed that suggested a bomb threat had just been broadcast. Neon flared from the buildings all around, while the strains of loud music came floating out from open doors. On the roadway beyond, cars hurtled past. All in all, it was one of the most magnificent sights I had ever seen.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to stand and savour these delights to the senses. I had work to do. I needed to speak to the man in charge, and I knew exactly who that was going to be. Only problem was, I had no idea where to find him.
I emerged from the alley and regarded the passing parade. I felt like I was standing on the bank of a flooding stream, and that if I took one more step forward I would be swept away. I singled out one of the faces on the edge of the stream and waved my arms to try and get his attention.
“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find the Devil?”
For a moment, the man looked like he was going to stop. For barely a second, his eyes met mine. Then he was rushing past and on his way.
Obviously he was in too much of a hurry to stop. I chose another face, this time a good-looking blonde in a too-tight skirt, and I spoke much louder.
“Can you tell me where I can find the Devil?”
Again, I received the same response. I’d swear that she heard me. I saw the slight pause in her movement before she too hurried away.
The third time I tried, I was practically screaming, but it still didn’t seem to make any difference to the sharply-dressed young man who was racing past.
I decided to try a different strategy. Instead of trying to attract somebody’s attention, I placed myself directly in their path. This time, they wouldn’t have a choice except to stop.
I was wrong. The heavyset gentleman only seemed to recognise my existence after he had careered into me and we’d both been sent flying to the ground. He stood up first and dusted himself off. Then he grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to my feet.
“What’s the idea, punk?”
“No idea,” I replied quickly. “I just wanted to ask you a question.”
“Well I’ve got an answer for you. Stay out of my way.” And he threw me to the ground again.
With a tear welling in my eye, I watched him hurry away. At last, I felt like I was home again.
I discovered that as a result of this bruising encounter, I’d been propelled through the crowd to the edge of the road. Right beside my face, cars were zooming past with drivers whose feet seemed to be permanently welded to the gas pedal. I couldn’t help noticing that a large proportion of these were taxis. If the residents of Hell were so reluctant to tell me how to get to the Devil, I could always catch a cab there instead.
I stood up and flagged down the first taxi I saw. Straightaway, it veered towards me. But as it stopped and I opened the door, someone else ran from behind and jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door in my face as the taxi raced off. I tried flagging down another one, but again I was too slow climbing in. After the third time, I gave up. If these people wanted taxis so much, they could have them. I would find the Devil, even if I had to walk all night.
So I walked around Hell. Down the streets buzzing with energy and life. Through the melees and quarrels and street brawls that seemed to rage on every second corner. Past the restaurants offering the hautest of haute cuisine and the clubs that pulsated with the sounds of live music, tempting me to abandon my search for the undoubted pleasures within. Yet I stood firm, and after I’d walked for an hour or so, I reached my destination.
A huge castle towered before me. It looked like a diabolical mirror image of God’s palace back in Heaven, with soaring towers topped by thin spires. But where God’s palace glistened and gleamed, this castle . . . unglistened and ungleamed. It was so black that light seemed to disappear into it, as if it were being consumed. I knew as I looked at it that this had to be the home of the Devil. Even the welcome mat reeked of evil.
I examined the massive door to the castle. On the right side there was a small black button, carved in the shape of a hideous face. I pressed the button. A deep bell reverberated through the walls above me. And then the door slowly swung open.
I walked through the forbidding gateway and found myself in a large hall. To call it a little bit gothic would have been like saying the Taj Mahal was a little bit shiny and marbly. Arched vaults soared above my head and grotesque faces peered out from every surface, their faces leering in the shimmering candlelight. The only thing missing was the spooky organ music.
At the far end of the hall, at the foot of a broad staircase, a figure stood. Slowly, the figure turned towards me, revealing a face so gruesome it made the gargoyles all around look like catwalk models. The skin was an angry shade of red. The eyes were pinpricks that glowered beneath thick, dark brows, and the mouth was thin and cruel. A pair of sharp horns extended from the top of the head, while under the chin, a small, pointed goatee jutted out. I guessed immediately who the bearer of this ghastly visage must be. Surely I had come face-to-face with the Prince of Darkness himself.
I looked at him. He looked at me. Never before had I experienced a gaze of such pure malevolence. Never before had I faced such utter and unadulterated wickedness. For a moment, my instinct was to turn tail and flee from this castle of terror. But before I had a chance, a door opened at the side of the hall and another figure emerged.
He was a tall man in a dark suit. I recognised him immediately as the one I’d seen in Sally’s mansion.
“Mr Jimmy Clarenden,” he said. “How splendid to see you. I’ve been expecting you.”
Chapter 11
THE MAN IN THE SUIT had dark hair and pale skin. His eyes shone keenly, like fluorescent white beads, but his smile had all the warmth of a beach resort in Antarctica. The suit encasing his lean, angular frame had clearly not been selected from off the rack. It had been fitted so well that when he moved, the suit mirrored those movements exactly, as if the two of them were a single unit.
At that particular moment, both man and suit were waving dismissively to the demonic creature I’d first encountered. Straightaway, the figure I was certain was the Devil scuttled away through a side door on the opposite side of the hall. As he disappeared, I swore I could see the swishing of a long, forked tail.
“Now, if you would be so kind as to join me, I’d love to have a chat,” said the suited man, in a voice that was deep and rich like a tureen full of gravy, but with an undercurrent that set my nerves on edge like fingernails scraping on a chalkboard.
He motioned me towards the door through which he had first appeared. I followed uncertainly and found myself in a room that couldn’t have been more different from the one I had exited. It was a large and slickly appointed office, with the sorts of fittings that were created by celebrity designers with unpronounceable names. The desk in the middle of the room didn’t look like a desk. The chairs arranged around it didn’t look like chairs. The cabinets that lined the walls didn’t look like cabinets. The whole thing was more like an art installation than an actual office.