Last Man Standing

by Stephen Leather

  ‘I’m smaller than you,’ said Kaitlyn. ‘You should have the bed.’

  ‘I probably won’t be sleeping much anyway,’ said Standing. He went over to the window and looked out over the Pacific Ocean. There were a group of islands to the west.

  ‘That’s Santa Cruz Island,’ said Kaitlyn, pointing to the largest of the group. ‘They’ve reintroduced bald eagles there.’

  ‘I’d suggest we go over and do some sightseeing,’ said Standing. ‘But we’ve got more pressing matters to deal with. Do you think Bobby-Ray will call you again?’ He sat down on the bed.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘He was quite definite that the phone was too dangerous.’

  ‘But your cellphone is the only way of getting in touch?’

  She nodded. ‘I don’t have a landline.’ She smiled. ‘Obviously. I can only use texts or FaceTime.’

  ‘But the way things stand, he’s expecting you and me at the Sunset Motel?’

  She nodded. ‘He said he’d wait there. He said he wouldn’t call us and I wasn’t to call him.’

  Standing rubbed his chin. Bobby-Ray’s suspicion of phone communication was well founded, but intercepting calls was usually done by law enforcement and Standing was fairly sure the men in the black SUVs weren’t police or FBI.

  ‘The guys in the restaurant were speaking English, right?’

  Kaitlyn frowned. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you could tell if they had an accent?’

  She laughed. ‘I’m good, Matt. But I’m not that good. To be honest, a lot of lip-reading is guesswork. Only about a third of the sound comes from the lips, so a lot of the time it’s a matter of knowing the context. But accents, no. Why?’

  ‘I was wondering if the guys following us are Russian, that’s all.’

  ‘Working for the client that died?’

  ‘It would make sense. If it were the cops, they’d be more likely to pick us up and question us. This cloak and dagger wouldn’t make much sense. Did the cops come and talk to you, after the shooting?’

  ‘Just once. The day it happened. They wanted to know when I’d seen him last. He phoned me a few hours after they’d left.’

  ‘Has there been much on TV or in the papers?’

  ‘On the day of the shooting it was everywhere, but Bobby-Ray’s name wasn’t mentioned. Then it went quiet.’

  ‘Can I use your phone again?’ He held out his hand. Kaitlyn tapped in her password and gave it to him. He searched for Bobby-Ray’s name but nothing came up. ‘The Russian, what was his name?’ asked Standing.

  ‘I don’t know. I mean, I read it but I can’t remember.’

  ‘Can you Google it?’ He passed her the cellphone.

  ‘Sure.’ She busied herself for a moment and then handed it back to him. It was an article in the LA Times. ‘RUSSIAN BUSINESSMAN AND THREE BODYGUARDS SHOT DEAD IN HOME INVASION’ read the headline. The story was on the front page but contained very little in the way of information. The businessman was named as Mikhail Koshkin but other than that there was hardly any detail, not even his age. There was even less detail about the bodyguards – they weren’t even named. According to the newspaper article, the police had responded to a call that shots had been fired at a mansion in Bel Air and when they had arrived, four bodies had been discovered. The killers were believed to have fled the area in a car but there was no description of the killers or the vehicle. There was a photograph of the mansion with emergency vehicles parked outside, and a single picture of the deceased, a head-and-shoulders shot of a stern-faced man with a wide chin and jug-like ears, which looked as if it had been used in company publications.

  Standing tapped the Russian’s name into Google and the search engine came up with more than a dozen relevant hits. The LA Times and the Los Angeles Daily News both ran stories with more information on Koshkin – he was a former associate of the Russian president, who had lived in London for more than a decade. He had recently moved to Los Angeles and rented the mansion in Bel Air where he and his three bodyguards had died. Police suspected robbery was the motive and that a large amount of cash and jewellery had been taken.

  There were more detailed stories in the British Press, including articles in The Times, the Daily Mail and the Daily Telegraph. But most of the information was about the man’s companies rather than the man himself. Koshkin had run several oil and pharmaceutical companies in Russia before he had moved to the United Kingdom. He had been granted British citizenship and two of his children were at Oxford University. There was no mention of the fact that he had left the UK. In fact, there was very little in the way of hard information, and the only photograph of him was the same one that had been used in the LA Times. Standing handed her back the phone. ‘Mikhail Koshkin,’ he said. ‘Bobby-Ray isn’t mentioned in any of the stories about the killing.’

  ‘He said they didn’t want any publicity, so they hadn’t released his name or photograph.’

  ‘Bobby-Ray said that?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Who did he mean by “they”? Did he say?’

  She shrugged. ‘The cops, I guess.’

  ‘Seems a strange way of going about an investigation, especially when you’re hunting for a suspect.’

  She slipped her phone into her pocket. ‘We didn’t talk for long,’ she said.

  ‘The papers don’t say that the cops are looking for him. They make it seem like it was a home invasion and robbery. And that more than one person was involved.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s weird, the whole thing.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I could do with a shower,’ he said. ‘After that, we should go out and eat.’

  ‘Is that a good idea?’ she said.

  ‘It’s what a couple would do,’ he said. ‘I saw an Italian place down the road. We can walk.’

  Standing showered and shaved and put on fresh clothes, then they went downstairs and out onto the road. Standing looked left and right but there was no sign of the SUVs, though he was sure they would be close by. They headed down to the main road and along to the restaurant, a single-storey building with a pitched roof and a terrace overlooking the ocean and the islands beyond. ‘Let’s sit outside,’ said Standing. It was a warm evening and the terrace also gave them a good view of the road. There was still no sign of the black SUVs.

  A young woman in a red dress took them out onto the terrace and gave them menus. The sun was starting to go down but there was an hour or so of light left. Standing ordered a bottle of Frascati. ‘Are you okay to drink?’ he asked Kaitlyn.

  ‘I’m twenty-two,’ she said.

  ‘I mean do you drink?’ said Standing. ‘A lot of Californians are teetotal, right? And vegetarian.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m a steak and wine girl,’ she said.

  ‘Shall I cancel the Frascati and order red?’

  ‘Frascati’s fine,’ she said. She looked over at the islands, then back to him. ‘This is lovely.’

  ‘It is. Yes.’

  ‘But we’re not on vacation, are we?’

  He nodded. She was right. The setting was idyllic but the circumstances were anything but relaxing.

  ‘So Bobby-Ray says you were like a British Navy SEAL?’

  Standing nodded. ‘SAS,’ he said.

  ‘What does that stand for?’

  ‘Special Air Service.’

  ‘So you’re like a pilot?’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘No. Though I’ve jumped out of a fair few planes. I don’t know why it’s called that. There’s an SBS, too. Special Boat Service. They’re mostly sailors and do a lot of their work at sea. I guess the SBS would be more like the Navy SEALs than the SAS.’

  ‘He said you were with him in Syria.’

  Standing nodded. ‘He didn’t tell you what happened?’

  A waitress came over. Standing ordered the sea bass and true to her word, Kaitlyn ordered a Steak Pizzaiola. He waited until the waitress had walked away before continuing. ‘He saved my life, pretty much,’ said Standing. ‘Got b
etween me and the IED that injured him. Saved me and the officer who was with us.’

  ‘He never said.’

  ‘He isn’t one for telling war stories,’ said Standing. ‘I didn’t think his injuries were that bad and I was surprised to hear that he’d left the SEALs.’

  ‘The explosion collapsed one of his lungs. A pneumothorax they call it. They fixed it and he was out of hospital in a week, but it meant that he could never dive again.’ She sighed. ‘I never understood why he was out there in Syria. It’s not America’s fight. It’s not England’s fight. And both sides seem as bad as each other.’

  ‘It’s messy,’ agreed Standing.

  ‘Which side were you guys on?’

  Standing laughed. It was a good question. ‘We were fighting ISIS,’ he said.

  ‘The Muslims?’

  ‘The bad Muslims, you might say. The ones that throw gays off roofs and set fire to prisoners. But ISIS were fighting the Syrian government and you couldn’t really call them the good guys because the president was killing a lot of his own people while we were there. Gassing civilians, bombing hospitals, messy doesn’t come close to describing it.’

  ‘And what were you doing out there?’

  ‘What did Bobby-Ray tell you?’

  ‘Not much. He said it was classified.’

  ‘That’s probably true,’ said Standing. ‘Basically, we were hunting down bad guys. And there were a lot of them.’ He sipped his wine as he checked out the road. Still no sign of their tails.

  He continued to look over at the road as they ate their meal. Plenty of cars drove by but there were no black SUVs with tinted windows. The sky darkened and waitresses placed lit candles on the tables.

  Standing and Kaitlyn finished their meals and the wine and drank coffee as the sun dipped below the horizon. Standing paid the bill and they walked back to the bed and breakfast. Their followers had to be around somewhere, unless they had simply abandoned the surveillance, but that made no sense.

  It was as they were walking up the stairs to their room that he realised what had probably happened. They had put some sort of tracking device on Kaitlyn’s car, which meant they could follow the vehicle without staying close. He waited until they were in the room before telling Kaitlyn of his suspicions. ‘They could have done it while we were at the restaurant,’ he said.

  ‘Could you find it?’ she asked.

  ‘Probably, but I’ve got a better idea,’ he said.

  5

  Standing dozed on the sofa while Kaitlyn slept on the bed. He had jammed a chair under the door knob but he didn’t expect anyone to break in. It was clear that the men in the SUVs were more interested in tracking down Bobby-Ray than they were in doing him harm. At least in the short term.

  He’d set his phone alarm to wake him at seven. He shaved and showered and went down to the restaurant for a cup of coffee while Kaitlyn continued to sleep. Avis in Santa Barbara opened at eight o’clock sharp and at one minute past the hour Standing was on the phone ordering a rental car to be delivered to the bed and breakfast as soon as possible. The super efficient woman on the end of the line assured him the car would be with him before nine, and she was as good as her word. A young Hispanic man with a nametag that said his name was Jesus drove up in a white Ford Escape at precisely eight thirty. Standing had been waiting for him in the car park. Another Avis employee was with Jesus, driving a Ford Fiesta. The car park wasn’t overlooked and Standing took Jesus in through the back entrance and along to the reception area where they did the paperwork and Standing showed him his driving licence and credit card.

  After Jesus had left in the Ford Fiesta, Standing went back to the room, where Kaitlyn was showering. He waited until she had finished and dressed, before explaining what he planned to do, then they went downstairs and had breakfast. ‘You’re sure about this?’ she asked as she spread jam on a slice of toast.

  ‘I don’t see we’ve any choice,’ said Standing. ‘I’ll lead them on a wild-goose chase and you can go and talk to Bobby-Ray. I can arrange to meet you later.’

  ‘But it’s you Bobby-Ray wants to talk to.’

  ‘Sure, but I’m not happy about the guys in the SUVs following you. This will give you a clear run, hopefully.’

  Kaitlyn didn’t look convinced but Standing was sure that he was right. She reached into her pocket and took out a set of door keys and took one off the ring. ‘You should keep this, in case we get separated,’ she said. ‘It’s the key to my condo.’

  ‘What about you?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a spare. You’ll need to get someone to let you into the building but anyone will do that.’

  She held out her hand. ‘Give me your phone.’ He did as she said, and she tapped in her address and gave it back to him.

  ‘We won’t get separated,’ he said.

  ‘Just in case,’ she said.

  They finished their breakfast, then Standing went upstairs to get his bag. Milton was at reception and he shook them both by the hand and said that he hoped they’d visit again soon.

  ‘I’m sure we will,’ lied Standing. ‘You have a lovely place.’ That much was certainly true. Under other circumstances Standing was sure he would have enjoyed himself.

  Standing put the bag on the back seat of the Polo and gave the keys to the Escape to Kaitlyn. ‘Wait until I text you,’ he said.

  She threw him a mock salute. ‘Aye, aye, sir.’

  ‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘We need to be sure that both vehicles are after me before you head out. And keep your eyes open. If at any point you even get the feeling you are being followed, text me and head back home.’ She was clearly worried, so he patted her on the shoulder. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he said. He climbed into the Polo, started the engine and drove out of the car park. He headed down the hill and turned onto the 101, driving east to Ventura. He spotted the first black SUV a mile outside Santa Barbara. It kept its distance, confirming his suspicion that they had placed a tracking device on the car. The second SUV was waiting outside Ventura and it drove ahead of him on the way to Camarillo. He picked up his mobile and sent Kaitlyn a text message. ‘GOOD TO GO.’

  A few seconds later he got a thumbs-up and a smiley face.

  Kaitlyn would also be driving along the 101 but she would be several miles behind. They had agreed that once she got to Ventura she would head north-east on the 126 to Santa Clarita and then drive down to Van Nuys.

  Standing’s eyes kept flicking to his rear-view mirror. The SUV behind was hanging well back, which suited him. The windows of the Polo had a slight tint but even so, if the followers got close they would see that he was alone in the car. The front SUV was almost half a mile ahead, there was no way they would be able to see that the passenger seat was empty. Standing smiled to himself. So far so good.

  The freeway passed by Ventura and he began to relax. Kaitlyn wouldn’t be following him beyond Ventura, she would be out of harm’s way.

  The traffic wasn’t heavy and there wasn’t much lane switching going on. The SUV behind kept its distance, but the one ahead had slowed and Standing was gaining on it. He eased off on the accelerator. He wondered if the narrowing of the gap was calculated or just random. Five minutes later both vehicles were even closer and he decided it was deliberate.

  Standing considered his options. If they kept getting closer, at some point they would realise he was alone in the car and that they had been duped. It would be too late for them to go back and look for Kaitlyn, which meant they would have to stick with him. But their mission was to find Bobby-Ray and they wouldn’t know whether or not Standing knew where the former SEAL was hiding, which meant there was a good chance they would move from surveillance to a more pro-active response.

  The forward SUV was now a dozen cars ahead of him. There was just one man in the back seat and he could make out another passenger in the front. So three. And probably four in the SUV behind him. Seven in all. The best way of improving those odds was to lose one of the SUVs.

  He
looked over at the SatNav. Ahead was Thousand Oaks, and to the south were several nature reserves. The nearest freeway exit was Newbury Park, just two miles away. Standing was in the middle lane. The SUV ahead of him was in the left-hand lane, the one to his rear was on the right. If he did another rapid exit they’d know that something was wrong, but they’d know that anyway once they saw that Kaitlyn wasn’t in the car.

  His eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. His pursuers were about a hundred yards behind him. There was no way he would be losing them.

  The Newbury Park exit was just a mile away. He accelerated and moved over to the left lane to give the impression that he was going to continue on the freeway. The tail behind stayed where it was but the SUV ahead of him also accelerated. They were now all doing just over sixty miles an hour.

  Time seemed to slow. He continued checking both wing mirrors and the rear-view mirror, watching his tails but also keeping himself aware of what other traffic there was. He wouldn’t be indicating this time, he would just cut across the lanes at the last possible second. There were no police vehicles in the area and unlike British highways there weren’t any CCTV cameras. His only real concern was hitting another car.

  The exit was only a couple of hundred yards away. He resisted the urge to brake as any change in speed would alert his followers. He checked his mirrors. Two cars in the right-hand lane indicated that they were leaving the freeway. The SUV ahead of him went by the exit and immediately he wrenched the wheel to the right and stamped down hard on the accelerator. There was plenty of space in the middle of the highway but there was a large truck barrelling down the inside lane. Its horn blared as Standing cut across the freeway, the rear of the Polo missing the truck by inches.

  The two cars that had turned off the freeway ahead of him were travelling at about half his speed and he shot past them on the inside of the ramp. Both drivers pounded on their horns and the truck continued to sound its disapproval as it powered down the freeway towards Thousand Oaks.

  Standing eased down on the brake to get his speed back to sixty. His eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. The black SUV behind him had made the turn but was now trapped behind the two saloons.