by Dean, Jason
Strickland smiled at his son. ‘There. Told you, didn’t I, Bishop? Smart as a whip.’
Delaney said, ‘And I assume the video game part of the conversation was about more than just playing Tetris.’
‘Correct,’ Bishop said. ‘When he said he had two games on his system, he was telling me that there were two men assigned to him.’
‘And the I always keep them on there line?’
‘That meant his two guards are always watching him. He’s never allowed to be on his own.’
Barney was smiling proudly. ‘I was trying to think how to tell you that they were both wearing masks, but Marshal Hammond cut me off before the thirty seconds were up.’
‘Just as a real kidnapper might have done,’ Bishop said. ‘Things don’t always go to plan in real life, but you still did real good with the time you had. You kept the conversation totally natural too, which is the most important thing. Never let them think you’re trying to outsmart them.’
‘All right,’ Delaney said to the two men, ‘you’ve had your fun playing bad guys, now back to your posts.’
The two men left the kitchen and Barney sat down next to Bishop.
‘I still don’t see the point of all this,’ Strickland said. ‘Kidnapping’s not really Hartnell’s style, and even if it did happen, what good’s knowing how many windows Barney’s room has, or how many exits?’
‘It might make all the difference in the world,’ Bishop said. ‘In these kinds of situations all information is useful information, even if it might not seem so at first glance. And I know kidnapping’s not exactly Hartnell’s MO, but if the opportunity presented itself to get at Barney he sure wouldn’t turn it down, would he?’
‘Can’t fault that kind of thinking,’ Delaney said, getting up and taking her coffee cup to the sink. ‘It’s always best to prepare for the worst. That’s why Bishop’s here, after all.’
‘Well, I still don’t know,’ Strickland said. He turned to his son. ‘Not freaking you out at all, is it, Barn? All this talk of kidnapping?’
‘I’m cool, Dad. Really. And it’s good to be prepared if something does happen.’
‘As long as you’re sure.’ Strickland stood up from his seat with a hand against his forehead. ‘Man, this damn headache’s really getting to me. I think I’ll take some more Advil and see if I can grab some sleep.’ He kissed his son on the top of his head. ‘Don’t stay up too late, huh?’
‘Sure, Dad. Hope you feel better.’
Once he and Delaney had both left the kitchen, Barney said, ‘I’m gonna keep my console in my pants pocket from now on, Bishop. And an adapter in the other one so I can always charge it.’
Bishop smiled. ‘Good idea. Always be prepared. That’s the key.’
‘So what else have you got for me?’
‘Not much else, Barney, except to emphasize that you should always try and keep your cool in a hostage situation, and always stay positive, no matter how hard it might seem. And don’t ever grovel or beg, either. That kind of behaviour usually works against you, both in the short term and the long term. And while you shouldn’t ever challenge your captor or play the smartass, it’s a good idea to speak your mind occasionally and try and show your captor that you’re a human being worthy of respect.’
Barney made a face. ‘No way would I ever cry in front of a stranger. Even if I wanted to, I just couldn’t do it.’
‘Good for you. Well, I think that’s about it. Maybe we should call it a night for now, Barney. You get some rest.’
‘What are you gonna do?’
‘Well, I’ve only got the living-room couch to look forward to,’ Bishop said, rising, ‘so I think I’ll take another walk around the neighbourhood before calling it a day.’
THIRTEEN
Bishop woke up to the sound of muted conversation from somewhere behind him. Or one side of a conversation, at least. He kept his eyes closed and listened. A man’s voice, just above a whisper. Tense-sounding. It seemed like he was on the phone to somebody. Bishop could only make out a few words. One was Karen, soon followed by Forget it.
He sat up on the couch and turned round to see Lomax sitting at the table at the rear of the living room with a cell phone pressed to his ear. He noticed Bishop watching, then muttered something else before pocketing the phone and disappearing into the connecting hallway.
Bishop remembered how quickly the conversation had turned sour yesterday after he’d commented on the wife’s looks. Presumably, the wife’s name was Karen. If so it sounded like there was some kind of marital strife going on there. Or maybe something else? Delaney had asked him to keep a lookout for any kind of odd behaviour from members of her team. He’d have to mention it to her later.
According to his Seiko it was 06.23. It was still dark outside. Another quarter of an hour before sunrise. Light spill from the central hallway behind him allowed him to spot Sweeney sitting at the window, keeping an eye on the front until Gordon went out to his post on the chaise longue in a couple of hours’ time.
Bishop opened up his knapsack and pulled out the double-pack of boxer shorts and the toothbrush he’d bought yesterday. Then he took them with him to a free bathroom and brought himself to full consciousness with a long cool shower.
It was 06.48 when he emerged, wearing the same shirt and pants he’d slept in. They were a little crumpled, but presentable enough. Back in the living room he saw the dawn light peeking through the shutters at the front windows. Delaney was already up and about, too. Assuming she’d slept. She was sipping from a mug as she spoke with Sweeney. He was also drinking from a cup and glared at Bishop when he saw him approaching. The strong aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filled the room.
Delaney saw Bishop and said, ‘Well, you look a whole lot better than I feel. Was the couch okay?’
‘I’ve got no complaints. That coffee smells great, by the way.’
‘I just finished brewing some. Let’s go to the kitchen. I need a second helping.’
As they walked through the house, he said, ‘So, you’re on the home stretch now. The final forty-eight hours, or close to it. Nervous?’
‘Mildly apprehensive, maybe. But then, that’s my usual state. Comes with the job.’
‘Yeah, I remember the feeling clearly.’
In the kitchen, Delaney took the half-full carafe and poured fresh coffee into a spare mug, then refilled her own mug. Bishop took a sip of his and nodded his approval. It tasted as good as it smelled. Nice and fresh. Strong flavour.
‘Out of interest, who signed the rental papers for this place?’ Bishop asked. ‘One of your team?’
She nodded. ‘Sweeney. And for the other place too.’
‘And is he part of your regular protection crew?’
‘We don’t have regular crews in the Marshals Service, Bishop. This isn’t the private sector where we can choose favourites. We take what we’re given.’
‘Okay, but have you worked with Sweeney before?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Just curious,’ he said. ‘You told me to keep an eye on everybody, so that’s what I’m doing. And on that subject, Lomax was on his cell phone as I was waking up, talking in hushed tones to somebody named Karen. Is that his wife?’
‘Yeah. And she’s a real looker, too. I’m no expert on relationships, but I have to say marrying her probably wasn’t the wisest decision he’s ever made.’
‘Why? Does she fool around?’
‘I don’t think so, but Lomax just naturally assumes she does. The jealous type, you know? I do know he’s always calling her, making sure she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be. To be honest, I really can’t see the marriage lasting much longer with that kind of attitude, but what do I know? And it’s none of my business anyway.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Just thought I’d mention it.’
‘I’m glad you did. I need to know anything out of the ordinary, but I’m afraid in that particular case it’s simply business as usual.’
&n
bsp; He took another sip of his coffee and said, ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘No desire to settle down at all?’
She made a harsh sound through her nose. ‘The demands of this job aren’t exactly conducive to long-term relationships, Bishop. Have you got any idea what the divorce rate is for people in law enforcement?’
‘Around the seventy per cent mark, I read somewhere.’
‘And you can probably add on another ten per cent for US marshals. I rarely know where I’m going to be from one week to the next in this job, and I’ve seen too many of my colleagues’ marriages go down the crapper to want to make the same mistake they made. In my line, an undemanding casual relationship is about as much as I can handle.’
‘And are you in one now?’
She tilted her head at him. ‘Not right at this moment, no. What about you? You ready to settle down at all?’
‘Not me. I find female companionship nice for a while, and then …’ He waggled his hand from side to side.
‘And then you start getting antsy,’ she finished for him.
He shrugged. ‘It seems to get worse as I get older. I think I’m destined to die alone.’
‘We all die alone, Bishop, but let’s just hope that’s all in the far distant future. For both of us.’
‘Amen to that.’
Delaney watched him for a moment, then said, ‘You know, I’m due some vacation time after this assignment. Three weeks at least, by my reckoning. And I think I’ll need it too.’
‘You can fit in a lot in three weeks. Got any plans?’
‘A few ideas, but nothing set in stone yet. It all comes down to whether I want to spend it solo or not.’
‘Uh-huh. You got anybody in particular in mind?’
She looked at him again and gave a small shrug. ‘I’ve got a germ of an idea rolling around my head, but I’m not completely sure yet. I’ll have to give it some more thought.’
Bishop thought it best to say nothing at this stage. It was an interesting little conversation with plenty of possibilities beckoning, but there was no point in rushing anything. They took their coffees back to the living room.
Sweeney was still standing at the window, looking at something to his right. Bishop went over and made a small gap in the shutters and looked in the same direction. He saw a yellow school bus parked in the street at the front, almost at the next house along. It was one of the traditional models with the engine out in front of the windshield, and the entrance door just behind the front wheels. It was empty except for the driver. Bishop checked his watch and saw it was 07.06. A little early today.
‘School bus outside,’ he said, and Delaney came over to see for herself.
‘It was juddering some before it stopped,’ Sweeney said. ‘I think the engine died.’
Delaney looked at him. ‘Really?’
Then they all watched as the driver opened the front door of the bus and stepped down onto the sidewalk. He was dressed in the requisite bus driver’s uniform of grey pants, navy-blue jacket and navy-blue cap. He opened the hood and studied the engine.
Bishop said, ‘Is that the usual driver?’
‘It’s the same one as yesterday,’ Sweeney said. ‘Different guy before that.’
Bishop turned to Delaney. ‘You like it?’
‘Not too much.’
‘Me, neither. Well, it looks like I’m the one wearing the red shirt today.’
‘Huh? How’d you figure?’
‘I’m the extra man, aren’t I?’ Bishop went over to the couch and slipped his suit jacket on. ‘Plus I know a little about engines. I don’t mind checking it out.’
‘We’ll be watching,’ Delaney said, raising her wrist mic to her mouth. Probably to make sure everybody was up and on their toes, just in case.
Bishop headed towards the front door. Once he was out of their view, he pulled the small .38 Special from the horsehide holster in his pants pocket. When he quietly flipped open the cylinder he saw the same six .9 mm shells in there. He closed it again and slipped it back into the holster.
Hope for the best, but always prepare for the worst. The key to successful living.
He opened the front door and walked out of the house.
FOURTEEN
Bishop moved down the gravel driveway towards the bus. He could see the driver shaking his head at the engine as he pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket. The guy looked truly pissed off. Or was it just an act? That was something that needed answering, and fast.
The guy was still scrolling through his contact list when he looked up to see Bishop a few feet away. ‘Oh, hey,’ he said. ‘Can you believe it? Engine trouble.’
‘I noticed. You all right? You seem a little nervous.’
‘Nervous?’ The man tried to laugh and failed. ‘Why would I be nervous? I mean this is only my second day, and now this shit happens. The engine started stuttering about half a mile back. I kept hoping it’d kick in again, but then it just went and died on me.’ He went back to his contact list. ‘Now I gotta call my supervisor back at the depot and tell him to send out another bus. And to bring a mechanic out, too. Christ.’
‘Before you do that, why don’t I take a look first? It’s probably something simple.’
The driver brought his brows together. ‘Hey, you don’t have to—’
‘It’s no trouble,’ Bishop interrupted and came over to join him at the engine. He saw it was a typical twenty-four-valve diesel. Probably about ten or fifteen years old. Looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. There was oil everywhere. ‘You want to go and try the ignition again for me?’
The driver pocketed his cell. ‘Okay, sure. Why not.’
He got in the driver’s seat and inserted the key. Bishop leaned in and heard the sound of the armature rotating as the engine tried to turn over. The driver kept at it for a few more rotations before giving up. He came back down and said, ‘Man, this bus is screwed seven ways from Sunday.’
‘Well, you can hear the starter motor’s not catching,’ Bishop said. ‘But I don’t think that’s the problem, not if the engine was stuttering before. You could have a leak in the fuel hose, maybe, or a faulty clutch, or even just a warped flywheel. Don’t you make a check of the vehicle before each run?’
‘Well, I’m supposed to, but I guess I forgot today.’
‘Have you got your toolkit handy?’
‘Uh, I don’t think we got one.’
‘You kidding me? All buses have toolboxes somewhere for emergencies. It’s regulations. Let’s go check the luggage bay, there’s bound to be one there.’ Bishop didn’t know the first thing about city regulations for school buses. He just wanted to check the hold. His internal radar had been pinging since the bus had come to a halt outside the house and one way or the other he wanted to make it stop.
Bishop kept his left hand in his pocket as they walked back along the side of the bus facing the house. The driver knelt down and used a special key to open up the outer flange near the rear. Bishop took a look inside the compartment. It was over six feet long. Easily room for two people in there, but this one was empty. Except further in, Bishop spotted a faded red plastic carrying case lying on a dirty rag. How about that?
He reached in and pulled the case out. It was heavy. Metallic items rattled around inside. ‘Your toolkit,’ he said, handing it to the driver.
Back at the front Bishop said, ‘Let me try the engine one more time. You got the keys?’
‘Hey, I don’t know …’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll get them back.’ The driver chewed his lip and handed them over grudgingly. ‘Tell me what you hear,’ Bishop said.
Bishop got in the driver’s seat. He put the key in the ignition and turned it clockwise. The starter motor tried its best to cough into life again. With the driver’s concentration elsewhere, Bishop kept his grip on the key and ducked down to look to the rear of the bus, checking under the rest of the seats. But there was nobody hiding back
there either. The breakdown seemed legitimate enough, but Bishop knew there were endless ways to sabotage an engine without leaving a trace.
Because something was off here. He was sure of it.
He removed the key and stood up, still looking towards the rear. He could see a floor panel about three-quarters of the way down the centre aisle. Maybe that was worth a check.
Bishop heard movement behind him as the driver came on board. ‘Hey, what’s up?’ he asked Bishop. ‘You lose something?’
‘No, I just—’ Bishop began, and halted in his tracks. Through the rear windshield, he saw the figure of a mailman moving in their direction, pushing a standard USPS handcart. Bishop looked at his watch and saw it was only 07.16. The guy was a whole hour too early. And Delaney had said he didn’t deviate.
Bishop was getting that cold feeling at the core of his gut. He put his hand in his pocket and clasped the .38. He heard the driver coming down the aisle behind him. When he figured the guy was less than a foot away, Bishop turned, pulled the gun out and stuck the two-inch barrel in the man’s gut. He grabbed the guy’s lapel and pulled him round so he could still track the mailman’s progress.
‘How many?’ Bishop whispered into his face.
‘What?’ the driver said, his eyes wild. He glanced down at the gun, then back up. ‘What are you—’
‘I already made the fake mailman back there. Where are the rest? You got more hiding under the bus, or what? Talk.’
‘Hey, man, I don’t know who you think I—’
Bishop pulled back the hammer and the guy stopped. ‘Gut shots are the worst, believe me. Keep it up and you’ll find out why. Now answer me. Where are the rest?’
Instead of answering, the driver darted a look past Bishop’s shoulder, then suddenly dropped to the floor with both hands over his head. Out the front windshield Bishop saw a white panel van at the intersection fifty yards away. It had an ADN COURIERS logo on the side and was turning into this street.
