The man led me towards the desk.
“Please take a seat, Mr Clarenden.”
I regarded one of the chairs, unsure where I was meant to place my posterior. Eventually, I hazarded a guess that seemed to work. I found myself facing the right way, with most of my parts in the right place.
Meanwhile, the man in the suit was making his way over to one of the cabinets along the wall. He opened a cupboard, took a bottle, and poured two drinks.
“Scotch whiskey. The finest single malt, I can assure you.”
He handed a glass to me. I took a small sip, letting the liquid kiss my lips, caress my tongue, and heartily embrace my throat.
The man registered my obvious satisfaction.
“Nothing but the best for my guests.”
He strolled back around the desk, oozing confidence like an oil slick oozed thick, black crude. Who was this man, so smooth and self-assured? Who was this person who could order even the Devil around?
“Who are you?” I said, sounding about as smooth as a chainsaw.
“Who am I?” The man was taken aback by my lack of recognition. “Who do you think I am?”
“At the moment, I don’t think anything,” I said, trusting that a few extra sips of single malt might help to smooth my voice a little.
“I would have thought it was obvious. I’m the man in charge. The guy who runs the place.”
“I didn’t ask for your resume. I just want to know who you are.”
The man sat down behind the desk and leant back. “But who else could I be? I’m the Devil.”
“You’re the Devil?”
He nodded. “Satan, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Old Nick, the Prince of Darkness. Whatever you want to call me.” That smile was still on his face, warming the room like a six-pack of icicles.
“But if you’re the Devil, then who was . . . ?” I pointed to the door back to the hall.
“Him? Oh, that’s just Sid.”
“Sid?”
“Sid is my accountant. Don’t be embarrassed, Mr Clarenden. It’s a mistake nearly everybody makes.”
“But he looks exactly like . . . ”
“I know. He looks exactly the way you’d expect me to look.” The Devil chuckled. “It’s not a coincidence. Sid is my logo.”
“Sid is your logo? Are you the Devil or are you selling breakfast cereal?”
“A bit of both, I suppose. I consider myself first and foremost a businessman, and like any businessman, it’s important that I market my business as effectively as possible. I need to find a brand that people can relate to. Now, I could have used my own likeness to front my campaigns. It might even have been moderately successful. But I think you’ll agree that when it comes to looking diabolical, I can’t hold a candle to Sid.”
“He’s really that evil?”
“Hardly,” said the Devil, the laughter still in his voice. “Sid is probably the sweetest fellow you could ever meet. It’s just that he has a rather striking appearance. Using his likeness has helped me to really nail my brand. It’s allowed me to project that aura of absolute evil that has been instrumental to my success over the centuries. But you haven’t come all this way to discuss marketing strategies. So how may I be of assistance to you?”
I decided to cut to the chase. “What were you doing at Sally’s house?”
“So now you wish to know about my personal activities too?” The Devil’s eyebrows were raised but he was still smiling.
“Do you have any personal activities you’d rather I didn’t know about?”
“As it happens, no I don’t. If you must know, I was helping Sally with her Feng Shui.”
“I would prefer if you answered me in English.”
“Sally has just finished doing some renovations to her house,” said the Devil. “She asked me to come in and offer my opinion.”
“So you’re an interior designer as well.”
“I don’t think you understand what I mean. Feng Shui is an ancient oriental art. It involves arranging all items in a building in such a way as to maximise positive energy flow. I’ve been studying it for a couple of years, but I’d hardly call myself an expert. Are you interested in the oriental arts, Mr Clarenden?”
“Only if I can pick them up with chopsticks. So tell me, what would God say if He knew about this little trip you made into Heaven?”
“Why should God have a problem with it?” asked the Devil, a note of genuine puzzlement mixing into the otherwise cocksure tone of his speech.
“You don’t think God would have a problem with his arch-nemesis sneaking into Heaven in the middle of the night?”
The Devil laughed loudly. “I’m sorry, I understand what you mean now. Let me try to make this clear. As I mentioned before, I am a businessman, and I look at my relationship with God purely in those terms. There are numerous joint ventures we both have a stake in, and I like to think that the two of us can work together effectively as partners. I won’t deny that at times there is an element of competition between us, but it’s never conducted with any hint of rancour. And I have certainly never regarded myself as God’s arch-nemesis.”
“But aren’t you the master of evil? Doesn’t that automatically mean you’re opposed to God?”
“Who says I’m evil? You’ve been reading too many Sunday school pamphlets.” The Devil took a sip of his drink before continuing. “Look, I’m not opposed to God. We just have different roles to play. Sometimes that might seem to put us on opposite sides of the fence, but when it comes down to it, we’re both working towards the same goals.”
“Are you telling me you’re not actively tempting people into sin?”
“Do you really think I need to? Come on, Mr Clarenden, you know what it’s like out there. People are quite capable of being tempted into sin without any assistance from me.”
“So you’re not going around possessing people and speaking out of their mouths?”
“What do I look like, a ventriloquist?” the Devil snapped.
I couldn’t help laughing at that. “What am I doing, lecturing you? I must sound like some deranged televangelist.”
The Devil nodded. “I understand how these misperceptions occur. It’s all due to successful marketing. But believe me, it’s only an image. It’s not the real me at all. Actually, I quite like God. When He’s in the right sort of mood, there’s nobody who’s more fun to be with. Unfortunately, most of the time He’s too stressed to let it show. He’s always letting the pressures of His job get to Him. And He’s got that dreadful smoking habit.”
“Actually, He’s just given up.”
“I’ve heard that one before. I’m sure it won’t last more than a couple of days.” The Devil sighed. “I’ve tried to teach Him about the importance of a healthy lifestyle. I’ve even offered Him free admission to one of my workshops.”
“You run workshops?”
“Self-development workshops. They’re very popular here in Hell. I’ve based them on my bestselling book. Here, take a look.” The Devil opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a book, and handed it to me.
I examined the cover. Be All You Can Be screamed the title in bold letters, while underneath, a subtitle declared that this was The Devil’s Guide to Fulfilling Your Inner Potential. Beneath the subtitle was a picture of the Devil, or rather the Devil’s accountant, wearing a diabolical smile and grasping a handful of money with one hand and a buxom blonde with the other. I quickly thumbed through the text, observing a cross-section of chapter headings: Mephistophelian Money Making, Satanic Stress Relief, Lucifer’s Love Manual.
“This is popular?” I said, handing the book back to the Devil.
“Enormously successful,” said the Devil. “It’s changed people’s afterlives. But once again, I digress. We were talking about Sally, were we not? Would you like to know more about the principles of Feng Shui I employed for her?”