The Wrong Man

by Jason Dean

  ‘It’s this last batch of papers that really seals the deal, don’t you think?’ Thorpe said. He was staring at the admission sheet like a man in love. ‘I gotta tell you I’m impressed. Didn’t I say how resourceful you could be when you set your mind to it?’

  ‘And it’s all thanks to you,’ Bishop said. ‘Was it worth it?’

  ‘You tell me,’ Thorpe said, meeting Bishop’s gaze. ‘What’s the going price for conclusive evidence that this country’s most infamous serial killer was Timothy Hemming, the current US Attorney General’s father?’

  EIGHTY-SEVEN

  ‘You call that conclusive?’ Bishop said.

  ‘I call it close enough for government work,’ Thorpe said, smiling. He flipped through some pages again, speaking almost to himself. ‘Man, Cortiss told me what this file contained, but it’s still something to see it all first-hand. The Hemming family are really something, aren’t they? Three US Attorney Generals out of the last four generations. That’s some history right there, huh?’

  Bishop said nothing. He was aware of the Hemming family’s reputation. And the influence they exerted amongst the power players on Capitol Hill. He also knew their family-owned law firm was the most respected and most expensive in Washington. Had been for most of the twentieth century. Ever since Aaron Hemming became Attorney General in 1933 under Roosevelt, holding the post for a remarkable six years. Then Eisenhower appointed his son, Matthew, to the job from 1953 to 1957. That was some history, all right. So it hadn’t surprised anyone when, six years ago, the current president appointed Matthew’s grandson, Robert, to the lofty position. It was almost a family tradition. Almost. Only Timothy missed out on the prize. Bishop guessed he had his own reasons for wanting to stick with the family firm and stay out of the limelight. Although his face did get on TV when he died. And the President still showed up at his funeral.

  Thorpe went on, his enthusiasm undiminished. ‘You know old Aaron Hemming and Hoover were pals way back in the thirties? I read up on it. Hoover was so impressed with Hemming’s spin-doctoring skills, he used the same methods to promote the FBI when he was starting it up. He probably knew Timmy from when he was a baby. Think of that.’

  He looked up from the papers and smiled at Bishop. ‘But it’s the sixties where it gets interesting, huh? Our Timmy must have been acting real weird if his old man, Matthew Hemming, felt it necessary to send him to an asylum on the other side of the country under an assumed name. And then set up this Kebnekaise company just to pay his bills. And then, once he decided to enter the family business, to buy up the home and erase almost all references to his stay there. Makes you wonder if he ever suspected how screwed up his son really was. What do you think?’

  Bishop shrugged. He didn’t really care about Timothy Hemming. Or the Zodiac. Only Jenna mattered.

  ‘I’m playing nice, Jimmy, so don’t piss me off. I asked you a question, which means I want your opinion.’

  Bishop sighed and said, ‘I doubt even he knew. He came back to the hospital each time unable to remember a thing.’

  Thorpe frowned. ‘But he sent letters to newspapers afterwards, as well as pieces of bloody clothing. He must have had some awareness.’

  ‘Maybe. I’m no expert.’

  ‘No shit.’ Thorpe laughed and shuffled the papers in his hands. ‘So once he’s well again, he gets married and has kids. Then he grooms Robert for the job he missed out on. I bet Hoover must have been praying he’d decide to go for the position himself eventually. He must have stayed awake nights imagining the hold he’d have over the Prez with that kind of information at his fingertips. I got to hand it to the old bulldog, his decision to hold all this back as the ultimate bargaining chip was a piece of genius. That man always thought five steps ahead.’

  ‘Sounds like he was one of your childhood heroes.’

  ‘He knew what he wanted and didn’t let anything stop him from getting it.’

  ‘No matter what the cost,’ Bishop said.

  Thorpe smiled. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘And now it’s your bargaining chip. Or are you planning to sell it on? I can see al-Qaeda going for it big time. You’re in Foreign Operations now so it can’t be hard to find the right contacts.’

  Thorpe laughed. ‘You hit the nail there, Jimmy. That’s where the money is these days and, believe me, they want this so bad it’s giving them a rash. Even those morons realize you can’t go on blowing up tower blocks for ever. They’ve finally wised up to the idea that the best weapons are those that hit right into the heart of the enemy with the minimum of effort. Soon as they get their hands on this, they’ll hold a press conference that instantly changes the world’s attitude towards the last remaining superpower. Maybe for ever.’

  ‘And you’ll provide them with the bullet.’

  ‘Hey, a good businessman merely finds a gap in the market and fills it.’

  ‘Businessman. That what you’re calling yourself now?’

  ‘Why not? I imagine that’s how old man Brennan pictured himself when he shaved in the mornings, and he helped arm these idiots in the first place, don’t forget. He was no innocent.’

  ‘And Natalie. How about her?’

  Thorpe looked at a point beyond the walls. ‘Ah, sweet Natalie with that cute little ass of hers. Wasn’t she something? Unfortunately, whenever I’d be pounding away at her I knew she’d be thinking of you. It took some of the pleasure out of it, let me tell you. And I got so sick of being under your shadow, Jimmy. Parading around like we were all friends. Making out I owed you for that sewer incident. You were right about that, but not in the way you thought.’

  ‘So that’s why you hate me. Because I saw you at your most vulnerable.’

  ‘No,’ Thorpe said and his smile changed to a sneer. ‘Because you used that knowledge against me. I know how your mind works; you enjoyed having that power over me. You loved it. That’s why you always picked me for your team, so I’d always be reminded of how inferior I was to you. Knowing I couldn’t ever turn down the assignments if I wanted to stay employed. Always taking sole credit every time we completed a successful job. Making sure I could never get my own team.’

  Bishop shook his head. ‘You’re deluded,’ he said.

  ‘Sure, Jimmy. It’s all in my mind. Anyway, the reasons don’t matter. It all came down to us needing a fall guy from the team and I picked you. But as much as I enjoy going over old times like this, I think we need to focus on the present. See that hypo in front of you? I want you to pick it up and choose a vein.’

  Bishop didn’t move.

  Thorpe said, ‘It’s a clean needle, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘I see your word’s as reliable as ever,’ Bishop said. ‘Why not just shoot me?’

  ‘Shoot you?’ Thorpe raised both eyebrows. ‘No, no, Jimmy. If I wanted you dead, I could have nailed you when I got the locksmith. No, I want the cops to stay focused on their pursuit of a living, breathing fugitive, and not get distracted by stuff that’s taking place on the sidelines. I’m keeping my end of the deal. Well, part of it, at least. Can’t give you that footage of you and Cortiss like I promised. Sorry.’

  ‘I never believed that part, anyway. You know your name will be the first word out of my mouth if I ever get caught.’

  ‘And what do you think their response will be? Oh, really, sir? So he actually arranged all this so he could get his hands on files that prove the Attorney General’s old man was really the Zodiac from forty years ago? Nurse? Straitjacket, please. And since Jenna hasn’t seen mine or Danny’s faces, don’t count on her backing you up, either.’ Thorpe motioned with his head at the syringe on the workbench. ‘All I’ve done is prepare a little something to keep you docile for an hour or so while I get on with my business. So the sooner you do what I say, the sooner I can tell you where she is and we can all move on with our lives.’ He pointed his gun at Bishop’s head. ‘Or we can finish it all now. It would complicate things for me, but it’s your choice.’

  Bi
shop rolled up his right sleeve, reached over and took the syringe from the table. Removing the plastic cap, he flicked the barrel several times and depressed the plunger until the first drops of the clear solution squirted forth. He inserted the needle into the crook of his arm and said, ‘I should have left you down there in the sewer where you belonged.’

  ‘Too late for regrets,’ Thorpe said, keeping his eye on the needle. ‘All of it. I’ve measured the amount precisely for somebody of your size. And put it back on the table when you’re finished. We both know what you’re like with sharp objects and I don’t want you getting any ideas.’

  Bishop depressed the plunger all the way. When the syringe was empty, he tossed it on the table.

  ‘Probably take a minute for the effects to kick in,’ Thorpe said, ‘so my advice is to find a spot on the floor before you fall on your ass and embarrass yourself.’

  Bishop thought for a moment and looked around. Then he walked past Price’s body towards the wall with the tool shelves. He sat on the floor with his back against the bricks, legs angled so their right side was hidden from Thorpe’s view. He began to reach slowly into his right pants pocket.

  Aleron had only been able to get one syringe of Narcan that afternoon and it was still there in his pocket. Thing was, without knowing what he’d just introduced into his bloodstream, there was no telling how effective it might be. If it was the same dope Thorpe had used on Jenna, he had a chance. At this point, all Bishop could do was inject it and hope for the best.

  His fingers touched the syringe and he felt his way along the barrel until he was able to pop the plastic cap over the needle. He was in the process of taking it out when Thorpe put the papers down and moved around the table towards him, still holding the Glock.

  Bishop stopped. He’d have to wait until Thorpe left before using it. He watched Thorpe pause briefly to check Price’s pulse, or lack of one, and positioned the syringe so the plunger protruded from the pocket slightly. He placed his hand over it just as Thorpe, apparently satisfied, came over and crouched down in front of him.

  ‘Tell me where Jenna is,’ Bishop said. He could already feel his heart beating faster, and yet his body felt sluggish all over. It felt like he had a cotton ball lodged in his throat.

  ‘One track mind, you know that?’ Thorpe said. ‘Okay, okay, she’s in a warehouse on Cortlandt. Happy now?’

  ‘Which one?’ Bishop said. There was a distinct slur in his voice now that made him uneasy. Every muscle in his body felt numb and he was finding it difficult to move his lips. And his heart was definitely beating a lot faster.

  ‘Hmmm.’ Thorpe frowned and scratched his forehead. ‘You know, now that I think about it, I don’t believe I ever saw a number on the door. Lots of graffiti, but that’s no help; they’ve all got graffiti over them. Hold still, it might come to me.’ He pretended to search his memory for a few seconds then said, ‘No, it’s gone. Sorry, Jimmy. Tell the truth, I sort of promised her to Danny and I wouldn’t want to break up that particular party. Oh yeah, and she has seen our faces. I lied about that part too. Probably best if you forget about her altogether and worry about your own situation.’ He was watching Bishop closely. ‘Starting to kick in yet?’

  Bishop had things to say, but could no longer speak. Or swallow. Or move any part of his body. The whole world was numb. He couldn’t even feel his heartbeat any more, although he was still breathing so it had to be working in there still.

  ‘Stuck for words?’ Thorpe asked. ‘Good dope, isn’t it? I first tried it out on a sweet little thing a while back and within a minute or two she couldn’t move a single muscle except her eyelids. Lasted nearly an hour, too. Enough time for me to try out all sorts of things she wasn’t too happy about. Amazing. I’d patent it if it wasn’t so full of banned substances. See, the main problem with paralysing agents like vecuronium or succinylcholine is they shut down all the muscles, including the diaphragm here.’

  Thorpe pressed his fingertips into Bishop’s stomach to stress the point, but Bishop felt nothing. All he could do was stare at Thorpe.

  ‘Fine if you’re in a hospital where they can intubate you. Not so good anywhere else. That’s where my special blend comes in. The vecuronium turns off the muscles, but accelerates your heartbeat to dangerous levels. The morphine slows it down enough to keep it from jumping out your ribcage and bouncing up those stairs. While the third element keeps the automatic motor functions ticking along without affecting the secondary muscles. Impressive or what?’

  Bishop blinked at him. He didn’t plan it. His lids just chose that moment to open and close. Providing moisture to the eyes he could no longer use in any direction other than straight ahead. Everything but Thorpe was just a part of his peripheral vision.

  ‘Well,’ Thorpe said, rising, ‘enough gabbing. Last thing I wanna do is bore you.’

  He watched Thorpe return to the workbench and gather up all the material and place it back in the box file. Bishop could hear him humming an unidentifiable tune to himself. Then he picked up both cell phones and put one in his pocket while he keyed in a message on the other. Bishop heard the electronic burp a few seconds later that signified the message had reached its destination. He prayed it wasn’t a green light for Danny to go to town on Jenna.

  Thorpe turned to him and said, ‘Your cell comes with me, Jimmy, but I’ll leave your Beretta. I figure you’ll need it more than me.’

  Yes, I will, Bishop thought. And maybe I’ll grant you a similar courtesy when the time comes, Thorpe. Maybe not. But whatever else happens, the debts you’ve racked up will be paid in full. One debt, in particular. I found you once, and once I get Jenna back I’ll find you again.

  Thorpe gave the basement a final glance and nodded. ‘Okay, pard. Onward and upward. My new life awaits. Stay out of trouble now, y’hear?’

  Then he climbed the stairs, humming to himself all the way to the top.

  EIGHTY-EIGHT

  Jenna wanted nothing else in life other than to somehow break free from her own skin. Please God, anything to escape her burning insides. She tried to vomit, but she’d had no solids in the last twenty-four hours. And the dry-heaving only caused her stomach to become just another source of pain in her tired and weakened body.

  How much more of this could she be expected to endure? The first jolt had been bad enough, but the small residue of the drug in her system had protected her from the full effects. The second surge had been indescribable. The objective part of her mind knew it had only lasted ten or eleven seconds, but at the time it felt infinite. But she wouldn’t cry in front of the freak. She’d find enough strength for that, at least.

  Jenna no longer thought of her tormentor as Danny. That was a name for humans, not for the thing now sitting cross-legged and silent on the floor in front of her. Watching her as a biology student studies a frog that’s being dissected.

  Her one flicker of hope had been the sight of the cell phone. Knowing it would be used as leverage on Bishop, she’d immediately begun hurling abuse as a way of getting her one pathetic clue across to him. Her main concern was that the filming might have ceased before she could say what needed to be said. And even if Bishop did hear her, would he even realize what she was giving him? He needed a starting point and she didn’t know enough about her location to provide him with that. All she had was a detail.

  That was the last time she’d spoken in this place. She wouldn’t beg.

  Jenna shifted her gaze to the prostrate human figure on the floor in the other room. Her memory of the journey through the building was fragmented at best, but she thought she’d seen two figures in there when she’d been dragged in. One of them had even looked female. Maybe that one, there. It was so hard to focus.

  Who were they? A homeless couple? Were they even alive? Knowing her keepers, she thought it was unlikely. Her screams should have woken the dead, yet the figure hadn’t moved from its position once. Could be a store mannequin for all she knew. But what did it matter? She cursed her wanderin
g mind and tried to focus.

  Movement in front pulled her attention back and an ice-cold palm pressed her forehead back and pulled her eyelids up. This was the third time they’d gone through this procedure. Jenna didn’t want to know what was so interesting about her eyes.

  And then it came to her. This was a waiting game. Waiting for all traces of the drug to leave her system so she’d be aware of everything that was happening to her when the real fun started. In a feeble effort to deny their existence, she’d purposely not looked at the knives and needles over there, but that no longer worked. Jenna almost hoped for another turn of that dial. Maybe one more surge of electricity would be more than her heart could take and then all her problems would be solved.

  She’d come to realize death was no longer the worst thing that could happen to her. Just the last.

  After a while, Jenna heard the familiar beep of a message and watched her captor walk over to the table again and pick up the cell. Knowing it was useless, she tried once more to move her limbs. But the electric cords binding her to the chair gave her no leeway and she soon gave up. Instead, she turned and saw the freak nod at whatever was onscreen before putting the phone down. And the warm smile that lit up that previously blank face scared Jenna more than anything else that had happened to her in the last thirty hours.

  EIGHTY-NINE

  Thorpe got in the van he’d parked a block away. He placed his prize on the passenger seat and just looked at it. Savouring it.

  So there it was. Finally. Everything he ever wanted in one convenient package. Unbelievable. Maybe he’d lease an island in the South Pacific, stock it up with nubile flesh and live off the interest while he screwed himself silly. He’d have to give it some serious thought. With his money now doubled, the options open to him were almost limitless.