Download - As The Bell Tolls
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As the Bell tolls
by
Gunter O. Swoboda
Gunter O. SwobodaP.O Box 655, Mona Vale, NSW 2103, Australia
+61299990429
Copyright 2010
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The near empty whiskey tumbler stared provocatively up at
Antonio Fanulli as he listened to the faint clanging of nearby
church bells. He looked up and stared into the distance as if he
could focus on something beyond the shabby door to the bar. For
an instant an air of anxious anticipation appeared on his face.
His normally full red lips set in his tanned face thinned into a
pencilled line above his cleft chin while his substantial eyebrows
met with apparent reluctance just above his aquiline nose.
Eleven. Antonio stopped counting as the last of the bells
fell silent. They had tolled eleven times. It was an hour, an
hour before midnight. He sat for a moment, poised. Then his
shoulders slumped back to their original melancholic stoop.
Antonio picked his glass up and swirled the remaining contents
into a whirlpool of gold causing the few ice cubes to career into
the crystal wall of the tumbler, tinkling seductively for a
refill. Lifting the glass to his mouth he tossed the rest of the
whiskey back. He savoured the heat hitting the back of his throat
and he sighed deeply.
As he placed the tumbler back on the table the barkeepers
gravelly voice drew Antonios attention away from the door.
Waiting for someone, Mr. Fanulli?
With a quizzical frown Antonio looked at the rotund figure of
the man who once, in his prime, had led a winning team of
footballers into a paddock of green and who would now break into a
sweat climbing the stepladder to reach for a bottle from the top
shelf of the bar.Waiting for someone? repeated Antonio as if trying to figure
out what his host had meant by that question.
No, not really. Antonio replied finally.
Patiently the barkeeper held out a new bottle of Chivas Regal.
Want another?
Yeah, why not. Antonios flat reply barely drifted up above
the noise of the chatter and music in the place. Even if Sam, the
barkeeper, had not heard Antonio he knew to fill the tumbler.
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Antonio quietly watched the golden fluid fill the glass. When
Sam stopped pouring he picked it up again. He lifted it in a
quiet salut.
Cheers, Sam, youre a good man.
Takes one to know one. Sam replied casually.
Antonio frowned. Dont judge me prematurely, my friend. If I
were you Id reserve judgement till tomorrow.
Sam smiled warmly. Youll be right. After all, wasnt your
fault now, was it?
Antonio didnt answer Sam but continued staring into the
drink. The barkeep, all to familiar with the changing tides of
moods in his customers let it go. He knew only too well when a
man needed to be left alone with his thoughts.
About to lift his glass again Antonios concentration was
interrupted when the door to the bar was thrust open. An ice cold
wind rushed into the room but was quickly shut down when someone
closed the door.
It wasnt the cold and screeching wind that robbed Antonio of
his breath but the towering figure of an Amazon who stood framed
in the doorway dusted with glistening flakes of snow.
Caught like roadkill in the headlights of an oncoming car
Antonio forgot what he was about to do next and simply stared at
the red and black dressed woman who had just entered. Fire and
ice, he thought, what a combination.
A clash of elements the woman stopped momentarily, her
flashing eyes surveying the close quarters of the room as ifsearching out a target. Flicking her raven hair back across her
shoulder she seemed to relax a little and casually strolled across
to the bar where she sat down on one of the three legged stools.
The bartender looked at Antonio and winked. He in turn
dismissed the luridly intimate invitation with an almost
imperceptible shake of his head, a meek gesture of resigned
futility. Antonio knew it was in direct opposition to the
bartenders optimism. He had never been good at picking up women
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So, you dont think that you made the right choice?
For the first time in a long time Antonio could feel something
welling up inside him. It echoed to the times when he could still
feel something but he couldnt be sure yet that it was anger. It
had been such a long time since hed felt angry. These days he
mostly felt nothing. When something did threaten to well up
inside of him he quickly drowned it with a hefty dose of alcohol.
He sat for a while longer choosing not to answer her
immediately. You never know when the next opportunity might
present itself to feel angry again, let alone to be in the right
time and place to let it all out.
Still struggling with the idea that she could be inside his
head Antonio watched the woman lean across to him and smile.
Come on, Antonio. You know youre an angry little mother
fucker.
She paused and lent a little closer still. He thought he
could feel her heat and there was a faint smell of something but
he couldnt figure out what it was.
Her rumbling voice dropped to barely a whisper hissing at him
like some flammable gas escaping a faulty pipe. Let it out! I
know you want to.
She stopped baring her teeth and lent back in the chair.
Not letting it out got you here in the first place, didnt
it?
Antonio now knew that what he felt was angry but knowing that
sheknew that made him want to let it out even less. Why shouldhe give her the satisfaction? He thought. Who the fuck was she
to yank his chain like that anyway?
What makes you say that?
Antonio flinched. His simpering question had escaped his
mouth without permission. Hows that for fucking choice then, he
thought. It wasnt how he wanted to answer her at all. His meek,
pathetic response was completely at odds with the searing heat of
anger that now gripped his guts. He had wanted to stay ice cold
on the outside and come back with something so insanely witty she
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would be gobsmacked. Instead he came out with a truly tepid
question.
Antonio was suddenly aware that the Amazon appeared completely
unperturbed by his feeble question. She looked as if she wasnt
even going to answer it. It suddenly occurred to him that if he
were in her position neither would he.
Well, its obvious isnt it? You wouldnt be here otherwise,
would you?
The woman bared her teeth again and Antonio quietly wished
that she would stop doing that. It made him feel as if he was
some prey animal felled in the savannah grasslands.
Grudgingly Antonio had to accept that she was right. If he
had the balls to say what he thought he wouldnt be getting
pissed. And if he hadnt gotten pissed all the time, well....
Antonio let the thought trail off. He wondered for a moment
if he had chosen to let it trail of or if it had done it on its
own accord simply because he didnt want to face the truth.
Another flash of her teeth and her rumbling voice stripped him
of his introspection.
Im right, aren't I? She paused. Go on, say it. She
goaded him.
Possibly.
Antonio felt trapped. No matter which way he wanted to turn
he seemed to come out looking like the poor, pathetic bastard he
struggled against being.
OK! Ill say it. Antonio paused and drew breath. Iwouldnt have lost the money if I hadnt been a piss-head.
The woman in black and red threw her head back and laughed a
throaty rumble.
The money?
She said the two words as if they had the edge of a razor.
She laughed again and when the thunder had settled she pretended
to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.
Antonio, if I was in your shoes the money would be the least
of my worries.
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Antonio winced. See, there it was again. Fucking women! You
do what they want and youre in the shit. You dont do what they
want and youre still in the shit.
As always the bartender knew when to step in and he came back
to present the bottle of Chivas Regal to Antonio. Ready for
another, Mr. Fanulli?
Antonio looked up the relief on his face clearly evident.
Yeah, sure. He looked at the woman. Do you want one too?
There was no emotion in his voice when he asked her; it just
seemed to be the right thing to do.
Me? The bartender looked puzzled. You mean me?
Antonio looked at the bartender trying to fathom what Sam was
asking. It was generally accepted by the patrons that it was not
the done thing to drink with him.
Antonio, Im not here to drink. The woman said casually.
So what are you here for? Antonio laughed cynically.
Certainly couldnt be for me. His sardonic tone reverberated
across the table.
The woman tilted her head inquisitively and then chuckled. I
might be. Depends on what you decide, doesnt it.
Decide? Antonio thought hed already decided. She knew that
so why did she want to hear it again?
I thought I was really clear the last time.
Antonio, you know that one decision leads to another. You can
never just stop at one.
Why not? It
s got to stop somewhere. He sighed heavily.I told you that last time but it wasnt what you wanted to hear.
It wasnt part of the plan, was it, Antonio?
He laughed cynically wondering when she got the idea that he
had a plan.
It wasnt about me, though, was it? There was an edge to
his voice, hinting at his desire to hurt her. It was all about
you and I was just the poor schmuck in the middle.
Antonio watched her face trying to see anything that would
either confirm or deny what he had just said but her face was like
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a mask, hiding anything and everything.
Dont change the subject, Antonio. She lent closer. You
havent got all night.
She pronounced each word precisely and each word left a tingle
on each and every one of Antonios vertebrae. It caused his skin
to tighten up and his hair stand on end. He wanted to come out
snapping and snarling like a cornered dog but even in his limited
experience of handling animals he knew that snarling dogs
generally ended up being put down.
He stretched his back trying to relieve his tension while
letting his hand run down his side into his coat pocket. He let
his fingers wrap around the cold steel of the .45. Antonio
however had to admit that the revolver provided none of the
comfort he was looking for.
As his fingers tightened around the wooden grip of the gun it
was as if another hand followed suit around his heart, making it
hard for him to breath. He could feel the air begin to rattle in
his constricting chest while his vision of the Amazon blurred
slightly.
Stay with me, Antonio, she said behind those bare white
teeth. Whatever time is left is yours completely.
She had barely finished the last word when Antonio heard the
first strike of the nearby church bell. His whole body and mind
chilled to the pealing sound. He jumped to his feet and faced the
bartender.
Hear that? You can hear that, cant you? His words spat outat the man.
The bell struck a second time.
Youd have to be deaf not to hear that. With each stroke of
that bell I bet youre wondering where all of this is leading,
what sordid detail of my life would be finally revealed to you to
help you understand what I was doing in this bar; drinking to get
drunk again. Then suddenly to be confronted by this vision, this
woman in red and black, this amazon who has more balls than I have
ever had.
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The bell struck again.
You know, I wondered initially if she was real; or was she
just be a figment of my drunken imagination? What choices is she
referring to that I have or have not made? What difference did
those choices make in my life wherein I seem to suffer through my
own conceit.
The bell struck a fourth time.
With each strike of that bell I seem to be left fewer choices
to where I simply wont have any.
Antonio pauses for a moment, reflecting on what he just said.
Well, isnt that a monumental sacrilege in our age to voice that
perhaps, just perhaps, we dont have any choice.
The bartender smiled wryly while wiping the length of the bar.
Antonio paused and walked across to his table and reached for
the tumbler. He hesitated before picking it up and turning back
to the big man.
Youre probably wondering what sort of drunken bastard I am.
Antonio stopped and drew a long laboured breath. Do you feel any
pity, feel any sympathy for me? Or do you only feel contempt for
what I am?
The bell struck for a fifth time.
OK, I admit it! I am a drunkard, a piss-pot; but then am I
not worth just a drop of sympathy, mixed with a little pity as
someone who wanted for more, someone who floundered in a world
that is so devoid of passion, a world that is mostly saturated by
a lust for greed?He cocks his head as if listening to the echo of his own
words. Yes, folks, there we have it. Two sins as one.
The bell struck again and Antonio chuckled. The bartender
looked surprised for an instant but then kept wiping.
Havent they brought me finally to my knees where I was so
easily castrated as to have no more choices at all? I am here now
though; just a simple player in a play masquerading as reality to
face whatever fate can dish out to me.
The bell rung out a seventh time.
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Once, a long time ago, they made me sit through Hamlet. I
dont remember much of it but somehow these lines stuck with me.
Antonio stopped and cleared his throat.
Yet I, a dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak like John-a-
dreams, unpregnant for my cause, and can say nothing. Now, here
you are, captured and listening to my broken voice.
The bell stuck again.
But you know, Im not a king and I dont know any unless you
count those pricks who occupy some corporate throne, who think
themselves kings of industry and who tell me that I should lead
other but when I do they strike me down; who tell me to play well
with others and when I do they punish me for lacking initiative;
who tell me to tighten my belt and when I do they take more of
whats mine.
Antonio looked up at the bartender while the bell struck
again.
Am I a coward? He paused. I was, once. But to be a
coward you have to feel and I havent felt anything for a long
time.
The bell struck again.
Who calls me villain? Breaks my pate across? Plucks off my
beard and blows it in my face? Tweaks me by the nose? Gives me
the lie i' the throat as deep as to the lungs? Who does me
this?
Another peal of the bell and Antonio shuddered.
I should take it, for it cannot be but I am pigeon-liveredand lack gall to make oppression bitter, or ere this I should ha'
fatted all the region kites with this slave's offal. Bloody,
bawdy villain! Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindless
villain!
He stopped and looked at the bartender.
Will you judge me for a villain or feel disdain for the
victim that I am? Could I perhaps be both? Isnt it just
possible that I am both?
Sam, the bartender didnt answer and simply continued to wipe
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the bar while Antonio, frustrated, pointed to the woman.
The spirit that I have seen may be a devil, and the devil
hath power t' assume a pleasing shape, yea, and perhaps out of my
weakness and my melancholy, as he is very potent with such
spirits, abuses me to damn me. I'll have grounds more relative
than this. The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience
of the king.
Suddenly Antonio reached for the gun and took aim at the
woman. A shot rang out and for what seemed an age the woman and
Antonio stood facing each other. Then slowly, ever so slowly
Antonio crumbled to the floor amidst the final toll of the bell.
In one of the far corners of the bar a man in a grey suit
stood up. He unscrewed the silencer from a Walter PPK, slipped it
into a pocket and holstered the weapon. He walked across the
silent room to the door, nodded to the woman in red and black and
quickly disappeared into the night.
She in turn walked over to Antonios body and tapped it
callously with the tip of her shoe. She then reached casually
into her suit pocket and pulled out a mobile phone.
Mr. Goldman? Yes, can you pass a message on to Mr. Sachs.
She paused. Yes, no problem.
Again she stopped and listened.
No problem. She cocked her head and smiled. No. Im not
sure but he was rambling on about something. She paused again.
Yes, the cleanup crew is here. She frowned. No, there wont be
any complications.