Back Track

by Jason Dean

  Ten minutes later, he entered his street. It was a short cul-de-sac containing only six houses, three on each side. Addison’s was one of those at the end, set well away from his nearest neighbour. He’d always appreciated the privacy it gave him. Especially those times when he’d needed to discipline Sonja.

  After pulling into his driveway, he got out and approached the front door. Another bonus was that the single-level house didn’t feel so crowded now Sonja was gone. He could just put his feet up and relax. Right now, a couple of cold ones from the refrigerator sounded just fine and then he’d hit the sack. Gaspard had said he’d probably need him tomorrow. In which case, it would be a good idea to get a decent night’s sleep while he could.

  He opened his front door and entered the hallway. He was turning to push the door closed when he saw movement out the corner of his eye. Then something slammed against the back of his neck and he felt himself falling, falling.

  By the time his head hit the floor, Carl Addison was already unconscious.

  ELEVEN

  First, there was movement behind the eyelids. Then Addison began moving his head slowly from side to side. Like he wanted the dream to last a little longer. Bishop sat in a chair several feet away and waited patiently for Addison to regain full consciousness.

  They were in Addison’s basement. Bishop had brought him down here and positioned him directly underneath the only light bulb. Bishop wasn’t planning on wasting the lawyer. Not unless he absolutely had to. That’s why he wore the black ski mask and leather gloves. And for the psychological effect, as well, he had to admit. Nobody likes seeing a man in a ski mask, especially when they’re tied to a chair in a dark cellar. Then there was the small work table Bishop had placed next his own chair. And the items he’d placed upon it. They’d have their own effect too.

  Addison slowly opened his eyes. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out the new reality in which he found himself. Then he raised his head and looked straight at Bishop. His eyes grew round. He looked down at his bonds and said, ‘Huh?’ He tried to move his arms and legs without success. ‘Hey, what is this?’ he said, rocking his body from side to side.

  Bishop let him. He’d already tested the chair and found it pretty sturdy. There wasn’t much danger of it toppling over unless Addison lost it entirely. Bishop just sat there and watched as the man fought uselessly against his bonds. Waiting for him to adjust.

  Finally, Addison became still and said, ‘What the hell is this? You must have made a mistake. I’m just a lawyer, for God’s sake. What do you want with me?’

  Bishop switched his gaze to the desk at his side and knew Addison would be looking, too. He’d see two clear glass laboratory jars, each containing a clear solution and each bearing a white label. The first read Sulphuric acid – H2SO4. The second read Hydrochloric acid – HCl. Addison would know what they were, even if he couldn’t make out the words from where he sat. They belonged to him, after all. Bishop had found them upstairs. In front was a large, empty beaker. Next to it was the gun that Addison kept in his bedroom drawer. A black 9mm Sig Sauer P226. Fully loaded. At the back were eight wads of bank notes stacked in two piles. Bishop had searched the basement and found them in a lockbox buried under an old filing cabinet in the corner. Four hundred thousand dollars in total. Drug money. Had to be.

  Bishop picked up a $50,000 wad and tossed it on the floor between them. He then picked up the bottle of sulphuric acid, pulled out the stopper and carefully filled the beaker.

  ‘What?’ Addison said. ‘Hey, you don’t have to do that. Just tell me what you want, okay? I’ll tell you what you want to know. We’ll work this out. Just talk to me.’

  Bishop said nothing. He just picked up the beaker, leaned forward, and slowly began pouring the acid onto the wad of notes.

  The effects were immediate and impressive.

  Holding his breath to avoid the fumes, Bishop watched, fascinated, as the notes began to turn brown and flaky before dissolving completely. The stuff ate through it at a rapid speed, as though he were observing it via time-lapse photography. He kept pouring until he’d made a deep hole in the bundle. When the beaker was empty, Bishop watched the acid consume the bundle from the inside out, as if it were a living organism. It was amazing to look at. Really incredible. Even Addison was silent, the awe clear on his face. After another minute, all that remained of the bundle of notes was a few untidy piles of discoloured powder on the concrete floor. And fumes.

  Bishop sat back in his chair and said nothing.

  Addison finally looked up. He was blinking rapidly. Bishop saw real fear in his eyes now. Fear of the unknown, probably. He was trying to figure out the reason behind Bishop’s actions and coming up blank. To him, destroying money made no sense at all.

  ‘I don’t understand what you want,’ he said. ‘Just tell me what you want.’

  Bishop said, ‘Powerful stuff, huh? Sulphuric acid.’

  Addison nodded. ‘Yeah. Yeah, sure.’

  ‘Know how human skin reacts if it comes into contact with this shit?’ Bishop motioned his head towards the other jar. ‘Or, even better, hydrochloric acid?’

  Addison shook his head.

  ‘Sure you do, Addison. Why else would you keep these in the house? Tell me what happens if you were to squeeze a few drops of hydrochloric acid onto . . . an arm, say. Let’s make it a woman’s arm. Like your wife’s.’

  ‘My wife? But she’s . . .’

  ‘Dead. I know. In that bungled loan store robbery. I read all about it. Taken hostage by some guy and they both die in a gas tank explosion when the getaway car speeds off a cliff. That must have taken some arranging, huh?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Bishop nodded at the remaining bundles of cash. ‘That wasn’t enough for you, was it, Addison? You wanted the three hundred grand from her life insurance, too.’ Bishop let his voice become more animated. He needed Addison to believe he was a real loose cannon. That he was capable of anything. Which was partly true. ‘So you dreamt up this robbery scenario and arranged it so she dies at the end. Real convenient. And the robber. Who was he? Some poor loser you represented once? You promise him a big fat paycheck if he did this one favour for you, or did you always plan to kill him, too?’

  ‘What? I didn’t know him and that’s the truth. I deal with things like tax law, employment law and personal injury cases. My partner, Ben Fraser, he’s the one deals with criminal cases. And why would I want Sonja dead? She was my wife. I loved her.’

  ‘Yeah, she showed me exactly how much you loved her. All those acid burns over her arms, for example. Told me how she’d get a new one any time she did something to displease you. And how you threatened to use hydrochloric acid on her face if she ever talked.’

  Addison looked at the floor. Then at Bishop again. ‘You knew her?’

  ‘I loved her,’ Bishop said, hoping the pain in his voice sounded genuine. It was essential for the role he was playing. ‘And she loved me. She told me everything. We were planning on disappearing together when you stuck a spanner in the works.’

  ‘Look, whoever you are, I had nothing to with her death. You’ve got to believe me. There was no way I could have organized something like that. It was all too random. The police were in pursuit of the car all the way and saw everything. It was just a bad hairpin turn and an eighteen-wheeler they didn’t see coming. That’s all. Her death was an accident. I’m telling you the God’s honest truth. Ask anybody.’

  Bishop studied Addison closely as he spoke. There are many ways to tell if a person’s lying. Not so many if the suspect’s restrained, but enough. Bishop had gotten to know almost all of them over the years. Too much or too little eye contact, for example. Or glancing up and to the right. Or unnatural pauses as they think about what to say next. Added to which was his gut instinct, which rarely let him down. And much as Bishop hated to admit it, the guy was speaking the truth. Or the truth as he knew it. He really did believe she’d died in that crash. Which meant he
couldn’t very well be behind her disappearance, too.

  Bishop just sat and stared at him, thinking. He’d been so sure Addison was the one. Or that he had some connection to those who’d taken Selina. Had he been totally off the mark? Frowning, he let his eyes wander over the items on the table. He stared at the wad of notes, then picked up the top bundle. Flicked through it once. Fifty thousand dollars. The kind of money people got killed over every day. If in doubt, follow the money.

  ‘Your friend in Reading,’ Bishop said. ‘Tell me about him.’

  Addison didn’t meet Bishop’s eyes. ‘What are you talking about? What friend?’

  ‘Your wife told me you did regular errands for some drug bigshot in Reading. So what are you, his bagman? Or do you help launder his cash? What?’

  Addison didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really have to.

  ‘So was this guy aware your wife knew about his operation, and your connection to it?’

  Bishop watched Addison’s facial muscles relax as he gave a one-shoulder shrug. It was another tell and Bishop could almost guess the next words out of his mouth.

  ‘He didn’t know Sonja at all,’ he said.

  ‘So that’s how you want to play it, huh?’ Bishop moved his hand towards the gun.

  ‘Look, you better kill me now if that’s what you plan to do anyway. He will if he even suspects I’ve talked. You might as well get it over with.’

  Bishop’s hand passed over the gun and grabbed the bottle of hydrochloric acid instead. He pulled the stopper out and filled the beaker again. It gave off an evil-looking vapour that dissipated on contact with the air. He touched his palm against it. It was very warm, even through the leather of his glove.

  ‘Kill you?’ Bishop smiled at Addison. ‘Who said anything about killing?’

  TWELVE

  ‘Apparently,’ Bishop said, ‘when this stuff makes contact, all you feel at first is this unbelievable stinging sensation. That’s what I hear, anyway. After that you can actually start to feel your face coming away in pieces. Really horrible. But you’d know all about that, right? Probably described it all to your wife in Panavision detail.’ Bishop made a show of looking at his watch. ‘Look, it’s getting late. Tell you what, I’ll just repeat the question one more time and we’ll go on from there, okay? Did this guy in Reading find out about her know ledge of his organization and your connection to it, or didn’t he?’

  Addison took his eyes from the beaker and looked at Bishop. ‘He found out.’

  ‘That’s better. How?’

  Addison looked at his feet. ‘I might have mentioned it to one of his people in passing. How my wife kept nosing into things she shouldn’t.’

  ‘And he passed it on.’

  ‘He must have. Next thing I know, I’m being called into his private office and—’

  ‘His name.’

  Addison sighed, defeated. ‘Gaspard,’ he said. ‘Joshua Gaspard.’

  ‘And how do you fit into his operation?’

  ‘I’m just a middleman, that’s all. I collect cash from his senior lieutenants on a semi-regular basis and deliver it personally to him. He prefers using professional people like me who aren’t about to be stopped and questioned by the police. But all his people know that I’m not to be touched.’

  ‘A man of respect, huh? Okay, go on. He called you into his office, then what?’

  ‘Well, he said he’d spent a lot of money to make sure he stayed in the shadows. Only a handful of people know he even exists and that’s the way he likes it. He told me he didn’t care that Sonja was my wife, he just wanted her gone now she knew his name. He said I had to take care of it personally, or he’d take care of me.’

  ‘So you were planning on killing her.’

  ‘I didn’t know what I was going to do, and that’s the truth. I swear to you. But it didn’t make any difference, because a couple of weeks later she was dead anyway.’

  Bishop said nothing, but he was thinking how fortunate his timing had been. If he’d left it another week or two to extract Selina, he might well have been too late. Addison would have put it off and put it off, but Bishop had no doubt he would have ended up justifying her murder to himself. The guy was pond scum from his soles on up. But at least now Bishop had another lead. And he also had a plausible reason to ask for more information on this Gaspard without raising Addison’s suspicions.

  He said, ‘So it didn’t occur to you that this Gaspard could have arranged the loan store robbery as a way of taking your wife out? If they hadn’t swerved to avoid that truck, the robber could have had orders to kill her and then disappear.’

  ‘Sure, it crossed my mind, but I couldn’t exactly ask him, could I? What would be the point anyway? What was done was done.’

  ‘I’ll have to ask him myself, then.’

  Addison made a face. ‘Believe me, you’ve got no idea what you’d be up against.’

  ‘Why don’t you fill me in? You can start with his address.’

  Addison sighed. ‘It’s a place called Equinox Tower. A fifteen-storey apartment block on 5th and Franklin, in the central business district. He owns the whole building. He keeps the seventh floor for himself and his men and rents the others out to tenants to keep it respectable. He operates all his business from there and rarely goes out himself.’

  ‘Why not the penthouse?’

  ‘The word is, he doesn’t like heights much. Nobody knows for sure. Maybe the seventh floor is as high as he can go without bringing up his lunch.’

  ‘You’ve been in there and know the layout,’ Bishop said.

  ‘I’ve been in there, but only as far as the first apartment. The one you see on the left as soon as you come out of his private elevator. That’s where he has his office. Sometimes I hand the money to him, sometimes it’s one of his men. I know he’s knocked some of the walls through so most of the other apartments are kind of connected. I couldn’t tell you which one’s his, but it’s probably one of those they left alone.’

  Great, thought Bishop. So much for accurate intel. ‘What about building security?’

  ‘Well, you need a special key card to get into the place, and there are cameras all over the lobby. I always use his private elevator at the rear and it’s guarded round the clock. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine. There’s probably not much more, though. His men say he keeps everything pretty low-key to avoid drawing attention to himself.’

  Bishop thought that sounded about right. If the place also doubled as a normal residential apartment block, Gaspard couldn’t exactly treat it like a fortress. Tenants wouldn’t stand for it. Besides, that’s what his bodyguards were for. ‘So what’s he look like?’

  ‘He’s about five-eight or -nine, I guess. Stocky. Early thirties, but his hair’s already turning grey. He keeps it long and ties it back. Small, deep-set eyes, and he’s got a small star tattoo on his throat. Whenever I’ve seen him, he’s always been wearing a tracksuit.’

  ‘And his bodyguards. Tell me about them.’

  ‘Black suits and black ties. Shaved heads. Fairly big. The usual.’

  ‘Uh huh. And when you make deliveries, what kind of bags do you use?’

  ‘No bags. Black Samsonite attaché cases every time. Gaspard says he likes how they smell when they’re packed with money. He claims it’s the best smell in the world.’

  Bishop nodded. He remembered seeing three empty ones in Addison’s bedroom cupboard.

  He then reached down behind the table and pulled out a black nylon holdall he’d brought along. Inside was a police-issue M26 Taser gun and five spare cartridges he’d found in Addison’s study. When you’ve got friends on the force, you get all the best stuff. And there was also the $50,000 brick he’d placed in there while Addison was unconscious. Well, $45,000 to be precise. The one he’d destroyed had simply been four hundred and fifty sheets of newspaper carefully cut to the same size and surrounded at each end by twenty-five hundred-dollar bills. He wasn’t about to destroy a small fortune just
to make a point. He wasn’t stupid. This money belonged to Selina. If anyone had earned it, she had.

  He transferred the rest of the cash into the bag. The 9mm, too. It might come in handy in the future. He zipped the bag closed and stood up. ‘Well, that’s it, then.’

  Addison stared at Bishop. ‘You . . . you’re going to let me go?’

  ‘That’s the question, isn’t it?’ Bishop said. ‘Thing is, I been trying to get your wife’s acid scars out of my mind and I just can’t do it. She suffered a lot of pain at your hands, both physical and mental. I’m thinking that you’ll just find somebody else and do the same thing all over again.’ Bishop turned and picked up the full beaker. It still felt warm to the touch. ‘Unless I teach you a lesson.’

  Addison started fighting against the ropes again. ‘Whatever you’re thinking,’ he said, his voice rising, ‘don’t do it. I’m begging you.’

  ‘Are they the same words your wife used on you? When she begged you to stop burning her arms, was she crying? I imagine she was. That’s how people like you get your rocks off, isn’t it?’

  Addison was struggling frantically now. ‘You’ve got it all wrong. I’ve got a bad temper, that’s all. Sometimes it gets out of hand, but I’d never have used acid on her face. That was all show. Look, please. Doing this to me won’t bring her back.’

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ Bishop said. ‘It won’t.’

  Then he threw the contents of the beaker in the man’s face.

  Addison’s screams were deafening in the enclosed space. He jerked his body back with enough force to topple the chair. Bishop watched him land on his back and thought he sounded like an animal with its fur on fire. He kept thrashing around like a man possessed, screaming incomprehensible words at Bishop.

  Bishop just smiled. He picked up the bag and walked over to the stairs and began climbing. The bonds would probably take at least a day to get through. If not, one of his co-workers was sure to find him.