by Dean, Jason
Copyright © 2015 Jason Dean
The right of Jason Dean to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2015
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library
eISBN: 978 1 4722 1266 5
Cover images © Mark Owen/Arcangel Images and Shutterstock
HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP
An Hachette UK Company
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
www.headline.co.uk
www.hachette.co.uk
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
About Jason Dean
Praise
About the Book
Also by Jason Dean
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Chapter Fifty-Five
Chapter Fifty-Six
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Chapter Sixty
Chapter Sixty-One
Chapter Sixty-Two
Chapter Sixty-Three
Chapter Sixty-Four
Chapter Sixty-Five
Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Chapter Seventy
Chapter Seventy-One
Chapter Seventy-Two
Chapter Seventy-Three
Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Six
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Chapter Eighty
Chapter Eighty-One
Chapter Eighty-Two
Chapter Eighty-Three
Chapter Eighty-Four
Epilogue
Keep reading for an extract from The Hardest Part
About Jason Dean
Jason Dean was born in South London in 1966. He spent many years as a graphic designer before turning his talent to writing and deciding to write the kind of American thrillers he`d always loved to read. He lives in Thailand with his wife.
Praise for Jason Dean:
‘The Wrong Man is a fantastic debut novel … An adrenaline fuelled thriller … Prison Break meets The Fugitive with Mission Impossible, in book form!’
Tesco Book Blog
‘Slickly written, cleverly plotted and hugely entertaining … an action-packed thriller’
Chris Ewan
‘The Wrong Man is a roller coaster of a ride with a superhero at the helm. Doesn’t miss a beat’
Thrillers4u
‘Tough, intelligent, driven, Bishop is a thinking reader’s action hero’
Matt Hilton
‘The central fellow, former Marine James Bishop, is a great character launching a really pacy new series – excellent stuff’
Bookseller
‘A thrilling debut from an author who has the necessary skills to entertain readers for many years to come’
CrimeSquad
‘A classy thriller’
Lancashire Evening Post
About the Book
John Strickland’s life is in tatters. An integral part of a high-profile, federal murder case, Strickland and his son are deep in witness protection following a hit in which his wife died. With seven days to go until he testifies, all he needs to do is survive.
US Marshal Angela Delaney is in charge of Strickland’s new protection team. Convinced there will be another attempt on his life, and fearing an inside leak, Delaney knows she needs outside help and there’s only one person she wants.
Former Marine James Bishop has worked close protection and is intimately acquainted with Delaney. He never expected to see her again but when she re-appears, and he meets Strickland and his son, Bishop knows he has to help protect them.
Can this outsider make the difference or are all their lives about to get a whole lot tougher?
By Jason Dean and available from Headline
The Wrong Man
Backtrack
The Hunter’s Oath
The Outsider
Exclusive Digital Short Stories
One Good Turn
The Last Quarter
The Right Way
The Hardest Part
To my brother, Stuart
ONE
James Bishop spotted movement on the other side of the street and pressed his eye to the scope for a better look. But it was just one of the male tenants at number forty-five, locking the front door behind him as he left for the day. Bishop already knew that particular townhouse had been converted into separate apartments, and that all of them were currently rented out. But he wasn’t interested in that house. He was interested in the neighbours at number forty-seven.
It was 11.43 on a cold Friday morning in early November, and he was sitting by the window of a dingy, stale-smelling studio apartment on Stenlake Drive in Bethesda, Maryland, about ten miles north-west of Washington DC. The apartment had little in the way of furnishings. Three empty wooden crates set against one wall. Another one by the window that he was using as a seat. The tripod-mounted Zeiss spotting scope. A knapsack on the floor containing his lunch, a flask of coffee and a few other essentials. That was about it.
But what the place lacked in amenities and creature comforts, it more than made up for in
location. Stenlake Drive was a fairly upmarket street made up of quite expensive townhouses, and the one Bishop was here to observe was directly opposite this apartment. The house was owned by the manager of a popular sports bar in town, and he lived there with his girlfriend, a woman named Amelia Parrish.
Currently, Bishop was waiting for Amelia to show herself.
The reason he was there at all was because he occasionally did contract work for Equal Aid, a small non-profit set-up that specialized in supplying financial aid to victims of domestic violence. A week ago his contact there, Ed Giordano, had called him and said there was a woman at the small offices in Brooklyn who might need more than financial help, and was he free?
Since it had been over a month since he’d said yes to a job, Bishop said he was and made his way over from his place on Staten Island to the offices to meet Amelia Parrish face to face.
She was in her late thirties and would have been attractive if not for the excessive amount of make-up she was wearing. Bishop could guess the reason for it. The story was familiar. After years of physical and mental abuse Amelia wanted to escape and start afresh someplace else while she was still young, and since the boyfriend didn’t allow her to leave the house alone she’d taken a real risk driving from Maryland to Brooklyn. Naturally, she was afraid to go to the cops for fear of what he would to do her once he was back on the streets. And Bishop knew he would be. Guys like that always managed to get out somehow.
And next time she’d end up in hospital. Or worse.
So he was currently checking her story out. As a first step Bishop always undertook close surveillance of the client’s home circumstances himself. He’d learned the value of on-the-spot reconnaissance from his time back in the Corps, where accurate intel could mean the difference between life and death. Even more so when he’d entered the close protection business a couple of years after his discharge.
Old habits died hard. Especially the ones that worked.
In Amelia’s case, before he could set events in motion he needed to be absolutely sure everything she’d told him was on the level. So far it looked like it was. The boyfriend had left for the bar at 07.15 that morning and had returned again at 11.37.
It was 11.48 when Bishop saw him emerge from the front door with Amelia close behind. Bishop lowered his eye to the scope and adjusted the magnification. Amelia was wearing smart, casual clothes that emphasized her trim figure. Looked like the guy was treating her to lunch somewhere, just like a regular boyfriend. Except Amelia was wearing sunglasses on an overcast day, while a scarf partially obscured her face. She waited and looked around the street as the guy locked the door behind them.
Bishop rotated the eyepiece to its maximum zoom setting. Amelia’s nose filled the lens and he gripped the tripod lever and panned it slowly across her face. She was wearing even more make-up than when he’d first met her, but it wasn’t helping much. This time the facial bruises were dark enough to show through.
There were a lot of them. Much more than last time. The boyfriend had probably found out about her unauthorized trip to New York and decided to punish her for her mistake.
Bishop followed her with the scope as they both turned left and walked down the street. Once they were gone, he leaned back on the crate and stared at a large discoloured water stain on the ceiling. This was only a preliminary recon, but it looked like the woman could genuinely use some help. In addition, the guy would need to be persuaded how unhealthy it could be to try seeking her out once she was gone.
He was thinking of how to do this when he heard a knock at the apartment door.
Which was puzzling, especially as nobody other than the landlord knew he was there. And with the landlord more than happy with the cash arrangements for the week-long rental, it was unlikely to be him.
Bishop ignored it and continued thinking on the problem at hand until the person knocked again. This time it was accompanied by a muffled female voice, saying, ‘I know you’re in there, Bishop. Come on, open up.’
Frowning, Bishop slowly got to his feet. That voice, muffled though it was, had sounded familiar. He was still trying to place it when he unlatched the lock and pulled open the door.
And came face to face with the one woman he’d never expected to see again.
TWO
Supervisory Deputy US Marshal Angela Delaney stared back at him with a faint smile on her lips. ‘Hello, Bishop,’ she said, glancing at the bare apartment behind him. ‘It’s been a while. So are you planning on inviting me in or what?’
‘Sure, come in.’ Bishop took a step back to let her enter, then watched her walk over to his place by the window. It had been a couple of years so she had to be in her mid-forties now, but as before she looked a decade younger. She was still attractive and her face still had that stern quality he remembered so well, with those pronounced cheekbones and the large, dark brown eyes that missed nothing. Her shoulder-length blond hair was also tied back in the usual ponytail. Today she was wearing a smart navy-blue pantsuit that emphasized her trim, athletic figure. He also noticed the discreet bulge under her right armpit.
She bent down and took a quick peek through the scope, then turned to him. ‘If I asked what you were doing here, would you tell me?’
‘I’m working. And I notice you’re packing. Does that mean this is an official visit?’
‘No. Far from it.’
‘In that case, take a seat.’
Delaney smiled and lowered herself onto the crate and crossed her legs. She looked around the bare apartment again. ‘Real nice place you got here, Bishop. Spacious.’
‘I’ve stayed in worse.’ Bishop grabbed one of the other crates from against the wall and set it down opposite her. Sitting, he said, ‘I wasn’t expecting visitors, but I’ve got a flask of cool coffee if you want, or there’s tap water.’
‘I’ll pass, thanks. You look about the same, Bishop. Still in shape, I see, and still cutting your hair to within an inch of its life.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Hey, do I see a couple of grey ones in there?’
Bishop brushed a palm over his buzz cut and said, ‘Trick of the light, probably. So, you mind telling me how you found me?’
‘Finding people is a big part of what I do, remember? And blame it on your cell phone. It’s amazing what you can find out these days, given the right equipment.’
‘It’s a brave new world, that’s for sure.’ He really needed to start using only pay-as-you-go cell phones from now on. Nothing was untraceable these days, but they came pretty close. ‘So suppose you tell me why you’re here.’
‘Okay, I came to ask for your help.’
Bishop stared at her. ‘You want my help.’
‘In a way.’
‘They got you chasing another fugitive, Delaney? Maybe a guilty one this time?’
She smiled, clearly remembering their past associations. The first time had been three years before when Bishop, having been framed for murder and handed a life sentence, made a solo prison escape and hit the streets of New York in an attempt to uncover the guilty party, while Delaney used every available resource to try and track Bishop down and put him safely back behind bars again. And though the situation had ultimately ended satisfactorily in his favour, he had to admit she’d gotten very close a number of times. Very, very close.
A year later, Bishop was a free man with all that behind him when he suddenly got a call from Delaney, completely out of the blue. She was on leave and wondered if she could buy him a coffee and pick his brains regarding the methods he’d used to remain on the loose for so long. For future reference, she said. He’d accepted and they’d met at a Starbucks and talked over coffee. Once Delaney had gotten the information she wanted, the conversation gradually moved onto other subjects and they soon discovered they not only respected each other, but actually liked each other too. Things had progressed very quickly from there, and the following fortnight had been a pretty physical one for the both of them. Not to mention just plain fun, which was something tha
t had been lacking in Bishop’s life at that point. And while he still occasionally looked back on that period with fondness, he’d never really expected to ever see Delaney again.
Yet here she was, sitting right across from him.
‘Chasing fugitives isn’t all we do, you know,’ she said. ‘We have other duties.’
‘So I gather that means you’re currently on a protective detail for an important somebody or other, right? Either a federal witness or a member of the judiciary, probably. And since I couldn’t care less if a judge gets offed or not, I’m guessing the first one.’
‘That’s correct.’
‘So who’s the principal?’
‘I can’t say at this point.’
‘Okay. Male or female?’
‘Male. Although we’re looking after his son too.’
‘And who’s this guy testifying against?’
‘Again, I can’t say.’
Bishop smiled. ‘So what can you tell me?’
Delaney went over to the window and looked out. ‘Okay, this is what it is,’ she said, turning to him. ‘I’m currently the replacement team leader for a special protection detail responsible for a witness who’s due to testify in a murder trial on … well, very soon. His real name’s being kept a secret until the day of the trial, while the man he’s testifying against is … let’s just say he’s a very bad man who’s not short of influence or money. If he wants something or somebody bad enough, he can usually get it.’
‘Okay.’
Delaney sighed. ‘So a short while ago this guy somehow found out my witness’s identity and location and sent in a professional to kill him. And even though the assassin ultimately failed in her task, she ended up killing the witness’s wife instead.’
That got Bishop’s attention. ‘I’m assuming this wasn’t on your watch?’
