by Jason Dean
When he finished, Delaney said, ‘I noticed a few gaps in there. For instance, you don’t have a gun on you. Just how were you planning on confronting Thorpe exactly?’
Bishop nodded towards the holster at his ankle. ‘Got a knife.’
‘Uh, huh. So you’re saying Thorpe shot them all?’ Without waiting for an answer, she asked, ‘Any idea who they are?’
He shook his head. ‘In Price’s basement, Thorpe intimated al-Qaeda. Don’t know for sure.’
‘Okay. So what was in the file?’
‘Various FBI files relating to the Zodiac killer from forty years ago. I’m guessing his identity’s in there and it’s somebody important, but Thorpe broke up the party and put a bullet in Price before I could find out. How is he, by the way?’
‘Price? He’s still unconscious, but I hear they got the bullet out okay. They told me a fraction of an inch to the left and he’d be in a wheel-chair for the rest of his life. So it was Thorpe who killed Cortiss?’
‘Right.’ He pulled his Nokia from his pocket and handed it to her. ‘But I recorded my conversation with him on this. He managed to fill in quite a few blanks before Thorpe got to him.’ He paused, then said, ‘Okay, I showed you mine.’
Delaney sighed and got to her feet. Putting the cell in her pocket, she walked over and leaned her back against the bookshelves. ‘After it became obvious you weren’t following the usual pattern of a fugitive, I looked deeper into the events of three years ago to see if I could find something there. And that’s when things began to look flaky.’
‘Flaky?’
‘Definitely flaky. Things didn’t add up for a lot of reasons I won’t go into now, although your previous spotless record was a big stand-out. So I delved further into the lives of the other three survivors and Martin Thorpe came up with a big red flag. You know he used to be a DEA agent?’
Bishop shook his head. Thorpe had told him he used to work for the Justice Department but had never gone into specifics. But the DEA made sense. It also explained Thorpe’s fascination with drugs and what they could do.
‘Well, he was with them for almost five years until he left to join RoyseCorp. His record was sealed, too, which raised my antennae further.’
‘You mean it isn’t any longer?’
‘Not since I got a Supreme Court judge to unlock it last night. I’m not telling tales out of school when I say Martin Thorpe is a very bad man. He worked undercover within the Cattrall drug organization in the nineties under the alias Roy Hedison, and from all accounts he adapted to his new identity a little too easily. Seems he had a particular talent for extracting information from suspected informers. His favoured method was to kidnap the victim’s teenage niece or daughter, dope her up and then rape her in front of him. Once the poor bastard talked, Thorpe would kill him and pass the kid on to one of their prostitution outlets.’
Bishop nodded. This was all news to him, but it fit with what he now knew of Thorpe’s character. He also figured the cocktail’s effects had to have worn off by now. He pictured a terrified Thorpe less than ten feet away, smashing his fists against the walls and screaming to be released from his soundproofed tomb. It had to be a living hell in there for him. Bishop almost smiled at the image. ‘After what he did to Natalie Brennan,’ he said, ‘that doesn’t surprise me.’
‘Well, it surprised his superiors when a couple of low-level runners who got arrested named him as the one who tortured and killed a Manuel Rose and raped his fourteen-year-old daughter. And probably a whole lot more besides.’
‘Let me guess,’ Bishop said. ‘They decided a trial would taint the whole agency for years to come and that a simple resignation would be best for everybody.’
‘Close enough. They also forbade him from applying for any kind of job in law enforcement and then sealed his file for good measure. So the last few hours have seen us using warrants to search his two apartments. One of them, we found two naked, underage hookers desperate for their next fix. More important as far as you’re concerned, we also found a receipt for a storage locker registered to one Roy Hedison.’
Bishop raised his eyebrows. So Thorpe had been on the level. About that, anyway.
‘Want to know what we found in there?’
‘Since I’m not lying here in cuffs, I’m guessing something that puts me in the clear. Maybe footage from the cameras he’d placed around the house?’
‘And then some,’ Delaney said. She turned as a man in a black windbreaker came in. Bishop recognized him as the one who accompanied Delaney to the hospital. His voice was too low for Bishop to hear anything and after a few seconds Delaney sighed and said, ‘But I’d like one more go round to make sure, okay, Mitch?’
‘’Kay, chief,’ he said, and after a brief glance at Bishop he left the room.
Delaney narrowed her eyes at Bishop and said, ‘No sign of Thorpe so far.’
‘Probably miles away by now,’ he said, and heard the sound of squeaky wheels on the carpet outside. The paramedics were here. ‘I’d be surprised if we ever heard from him again.’
‘Uh, huh.’ Delaney turned to the bookcase at her back and tapped her knuckles against the wood. ‘Didn’t Brennan Senior keep his vault behind here?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hmm.’ She turned back to Bishop with the same frown, and a second later two paramedics appeared in the doorway with a gurney in tow.
The taller one said, ‘Gunshot victim.’
Delaney waved a hand at Bishop. ‘Among other things.’
The men entered and lowered the gurney next to Bishop, then knelt down on either side and carefully transferred him onto it. All the while, Bishop kept his eyes on Delaney. He watched her turn back to the bookcase with a pensive expression. She rested one hand on a shelf and he heard her tapping her fingernails against the wood. The gurney was raised to its normal height and Bishop felt compresses against his thigh and side. Then the shorter paramedic pointed the wheeled stretcher towards the double doors.
The taller one grabbed hold of the front and said, ‘Okay, Marshal?’
Delaney was silent for a few more seconds. Then she gently slapped her palm against the shelf and said, ‘Okay, let’s go.’
They began wheeling Bishop towards the doorway and Delaney came over and walked alongside. Looking down at him, she asked, ‘You suppose there’s anybody left who knows the combination to that thing?’
‘Can’t think who,’ Bishop said and turned his face to the ceiling. ‘Far as I know, the only man who did took it to his grave.’
EPILOGUE
When the whistle blew, both sides trudged off the playing field. They made their way back to their respective changing rooms, ready to face the music for the goalless first half. Spectators all around the stadium rose to get drinks or empty their bladders. Or both. Bishop did neither. He just stayed in his lower level seat and unfolded his afternoon edition of the New York Times to the front page again.
The bold headline hadn’t changed. It still read, US ATTORNEY GENERAL ROBERT HEMMING RESIGNS. Underneath, the sub-headline read, Long-term supporter of President steps down after five years for undisclosed personal reasons. The photo at the top was taken from the press conference this morning. Robert Hemming looked as though he’d aged ten years overnight.
Bishop read a little more of the story, but when it started regurgitating the same few facts in an effort to fill up space he gave up. Dropping the paper onto his lap, he leaned back, whistling through his teeth as he extended his aching right leg out in front. A few people were already returning to their seats on either side of him, but he ignored them and looked through the translucent roof to the cloudless sky above. He kind of missed the old Giants Stadium, but at least the new arena here in Harrison felt like a soccer stadium. There were no football lines on the turf, for a start. And it was real grass, too. The only thing missing was a beer, but the doctors had warned him when he left hospital last week that unless he wanted a new stomach he’d need to abstain for at least another mont
h. He was willing to concede they knew their business.
After removing the two 9mm rounds from his left kidney and right thigh, most of the surgeons’ efforts had been spent working on his abdominal wounds. One said he was amazed Bishop had stayed upright for so long with so much intestinal bleeding. They’d done a good job on him, though. Good enough to mean he was no longer coughing blood with every breath. His throat and ring finger were also healing, although he’d probably continue to sound like a poor man’s Clint Eastwood for a while yet. Other than that, all he’d really lost was the top half of his pinky, which he’d never used much anyway.
Halfway through his two-week hospital stay, a detective named Kinneman had come to visit. He’d handed Bishop official notification of his overturned conviction, saying it was mostly thanks to the material found in Thorpe’s storage locker. It seems he’d transferred his ‘greatest’ moments onto DVD for his personal viewing pleasure. In addition to the attack on Bishop by Cortiss, they found countless movies of Thorpe having sex with Natalie, as well as footage of Thorpe cutting Randall Brennan’s throat in front of the vault.
A nationwide manhunt was still under way. Bishop wished them luck.
Kinneman also said no charges would be filed against him for Daniella Costa’s death. That one came straight from the mayor’s office. With the city edgy about a possible wrongful arrest suit, ‘self-defence’ worked for everyone. Especially once Jenna told the police her side of the story. Bishop was also currently involved in negotiations regarding compensation for the three years he’d spent inside. That is to say, his lawyer, Miles Pascombe, was involved. Pascombe seemed optimistic that they’d end up with a respectable figure at the end of it. Which would satisfy Bishop. Financially, at least.
And as for Jenna, well, they were both taking things at a slower pace now they had time to get to know each other, although he had a dinner invite tonight he meant to keep. She’d called earlier to say she couldn’t go to the game with him as she wanted to visit Art Mandrake now he’d regained consciousness, but that she’d cook Bishop his meal of choice later. As long as he chose chili. God only knew what that was going to do to his stomach.
Most of his time, however, had been spent musing on what to do now the world was open to him again. He was currently resting at his folks’ place on Staten Island, but he’d need to find work sooner or later. He just had no idea what. Close protection held no attraction for him any more. And besides, Bishop was no longer the same person. For one thing, he wasn’t planning on taking orders from anybody ever again. He’d done that already and look where it got him. But he couldn’t deny the decision limited his options somewhat.
‘Penny for your thoughts, Sergeant,’ said the man in the seat to his left.
‘They’re not for sale, Colonel,’ Bishop said with a faint smile.
He turned to study his ex-employer’s profile. Morgan Royse studied the stadium, his colourless lips set in a straight line. The Red Bulls cap he wore hid most of the salt-and-pepper hair, but the hooked nose was unmistakable. Up close, the bags under his eyes made him look older than his supposed sixty-five years.
‘I didn’t know you were a Bulls fan,’ Bishop said. ‘Excluding the guy sitting at my right, how many people you got around us?’
‘I’m not,’ Royse said. ‘And four, but don’t take it personally; they’re my second skin when I’m away from the office.’
‘The people who were sitting here might want their seats back.’
‘They can afford to find others now. How are your wounds?’
‘I’ll walk with a limp for a while and I try not to laugh too much.’ Bishop picked up the paper and tapped it against the empty seat in front. ‘I figure Hemming’s resignation is your doing. How’d you know about the files?’
Glancing at the newspaper, Royse settled back into his seat and said, ‘Sergeant Price was happy to share his side of the story once I told him RoyseCorp was paying all his medical expenses; I was able to fill in the gaps myself. And a mostly empty house doesn’t offer up a wealth of hiding places once you know what you’re looking for. You know, I had a very uncomfortable meeting with Robert yesterday. He certainly didn’t need much convincing when I urged him to step down. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody look so devastated. The kind of knowledge he’s been carrying around must weigh heavily on a man’s soul.’
‘Politicians don’t have souls,’ Bishop said. ‘That’s why they’re politicians. So he knew, all this time?’
Royse nodded. ‘Without going into specifics, he said he found out twenty years ago and hadn’t spoken to his father since. He told me it was the main reason he’d wanted to gain public office. He figured serving his country would somehow make amends for his father’s sins.’
Bishop arched his eyebrows. ‘Somehow, I don’t think entering politics was the answer. You find Thorpe’s body, too?’
‘And disposed of it. I didn’t want Alicia to stumble upon it by mistake, assuming she ever goes back there. Nasty way to go. From the looks of it, Thorpe spent most of his final hours trying to pull the door open with his bare hands like a man possessed. His fingers were just raw stubs of meat. It must have seemed a lifetime in there.’
‘He earned every second.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ After a short silence, he said, ‘I had an interesting chat with Gary at Air Traffic Control as well.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Yes, you probably can. I’ve since changed the combination to my vault, although I’m sure Randall would want you to keep the stamp album as a memento. I must admit it puzzled me when he originally asked me to safeguard what seemed to be an essentially worthless stamp collection. I immediately forgot all about it until the moment I realized it was the only item missing. So would I be correct in assuming it somehow led you to the file itself?’
‘Yeah, you would.’ Keeping his gaze on the pitch ahead, Bishop said, ‘You ever leave a man behind, Colonel?’
‘Not once.’
‘So I’m the first.’
Royse sighed. ‘I’m not infallible, Bishop, although many people seem to think otherwise. After you’d been sentenced I admit doubts crept in. I researched your life and the circumstantial evidence didn’t fit with what I read. I kept a close eye on you at Greenacres after that and as soon as I heard of the lawsuit you instigated I lent my weight to the proceedings. Didn’t you ever wonder why the case ended so quickly in your favour?’
‘It crossed my mind once or twice.’
‘I knew you must have had a reason other than a concern for your fellow prisoners’ welfare and escape seemed the likeliest bet. I very much wanted to see what you’d do once you reached the outside world and you didn’t disappoint. Just the opposite, in fact.’
‘I had help.’
‘Jenna Falstaff,’ Royse said, nodding. ‘A most impressive woman by all accounts, but then I’m sure you already know that.’
Bishop shrugged. ‘I haven’t tasted her chili yet.’
The LA Galaxy players began running out onto the pitch for the second half, clearly anxious for their hosts to join them. Spectators around the stadium were returning to their seats, the home crowd still bubbling with optimism at the Bulls’ eight-match unbeaten run up to this point.
As Royse watched them he said, ‘I’m still waiting for the question.’
‘You mean the why?’ When Royse nodded, Bishop said, ‘Because Natalie was Brennan’s daughter in name only.’
Royse closed his eyes and started tapping his feet against the ground. ‘Yes.’
‘It’s the only answer that makes sense. It explains why he was so distant from her, why you both parted company not long after setting up RoyseCorp, and why you wanted the real killer found once you crossed me off the list.’
Just then, the Bulls jogged out onto the pitch to a roar of approval from the faithful, warming up as they assumed their position on the right end of the field.
Royse opened his eyes at the noise and said, ‘Alicia b
ore us each a child while she was married to Randall. He never knew for sure and Alicia’s power over him was such that he feared to probe further, but I think he knew instinctively Natalie wasn’t his. For a start, she looked nothing like him and he wasn’t a stupid man.’
And of course, if Brennan knew Natalie wasn’t his biological daughter, it opened up the possibility that Cortiss’s theory had been correct regarding their sexual history. But Bishop saw no advantage in mentioning this. Let the girl rest in peace. Bishop waited as the referee blew the whistle and the game started afresh. Then he said, ‘I do have another question for you.’
‘Yes?’
‘Why are you here?’
Royse smiled for the first time and said, ‘Marcus.’
Bishop turned at movement to his right. The quiet, nondescript man in the next seat along was holding a business card between his fingers. Bishop took it. It was for something called the Equal Aid Relief Organization. The logo showed two hands shaking and there was a toll-free number. That was all. On the back, there was another number scrawled in ballpoint. Bishop turned to Royse and waited for the rest.
‘It may surprise you to learn that even I have a conscience,’ Royse said, ‘although it took the death of my daughter to bring it to the surface.’ He jutted his chin at the business card. ‘It’s a non-profit enterprise I set up two and a half years ago to provide financial aid for people with certain problems. People who have gone through the proper channels without success and are unable to afford professional help.’
Bishop tapped the card against his knee. ‘What kinds of problems?’
‘The kind you’re used to. Usually involving violence of some sort, or at least the threat of it. You and I both know the law’s limitations in such cases, so Equal Aid gives them enough to relocate and escape their particular predicament if that’s what’s needed. However, there are occasions when a victim needs more than financial assistance.’
