by Dean, Jason
‘And that justifies you forcing me to come along, does it?’
‘I’m not trying to justify anything. I’m merely explaining.’
Clea said nothing, just placed both hands on either side of her head and stared at the table.
There was no point in arguing the point any further, so Bishop let the matter rest. It was a shame, though. Clea seemed a decent person who’d ordinarily be willing to aid somebody in trouble, especially a kid, but being forced to help rather than being asked understandably played a major factor in a person’s attitude. However it couldn’t be helped. She had to come along, it was that simple.
After a few moments, he said, ‘Does this Howard also wear spectacles?’
Her brow furrowed as she looked up at him. ‘Only for reading. Why? Is this relevant?’
‘I’m just wondering if you’ve still got any of his stuff here. Because an old pair of reading glasses would really come in handy right now.’
‘There might be a pair of his old frames up in the attic, along with the rest of his junk. Why?’
‘Well a little basic camouflage wouldn’t go amiss, and a pair of glasses can often do wonders for a face. My face, in particular.’ He studied her. ‘Do you dye your hair?’
Clea made a face. ‘And what’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Is that a no, then?’
‘Yes, that’s a no. Auburn’s my natural colour. Why does that matter?’
Bishop ran a palm over his buzz cut. ‘I was hoping you’d be able to turn me into a redhead or something, but never mind. The glasses will have to do. But if you’ve got some scissors or clippers lying around, maybe you could do something about my associate’s hair.’
She turned to Strickland and studied his thick shoulder-length locks. ‘No clippers,’ she said finally, ‘but I do have some hair scissors in the bathroom cabinet.’
Strickland brushed a hand through his hair. ‘I guess it kinda stands out, huh?’
‘Right now you look a little too much like that guy in the back seat for my liking,’ Bishop said. Strickland also had a heavy five o’clock shadow. He was probably one of those high-testosterone types who needed to shave twice a day just to keep things on an even keel, which could only work in their favour. ‘How about it, Clea? Can you do anything?’
She sighed as she got up from her seat, and said, ‘If you think you can trust me with sharp objects, I guess I can give it a try.’
THIRTY-SIX
Bishop drove them through the mountains as they headed south on Route 40. It was almost nine and the sky was still overcast, so no moon, and no stars. And for long stretches no streetlights either, with the only illumination coming from the Explorer’s headlights and those of the occasional vehicle coming the other way. The rest of the world was just various shades of black. Bishop had to keep almost all his concentration on the few feet of visible road directly in front of them.
Clea sat in the front passenger seat while Strickland stretched out in the back, occasionally rubbing a hand through his new haircut. She’d gone at it with the scissors and managed to pare it down to half an inch all round. It looked uneven in places, but that seemed to be the current style anyway. He’d told Strickland to take a wet shave but to leave the upper lip alone. The remaining hair still had a little way to go before it could realistically be labelled a moustache, but Strickland had assured him it would grow quickly.
The drive had been quiet so far. Clea hadn’t spoken at all since leaving the house. She was sitting with her head at an angle against the seat rest as though she was looking out the side window, although Bishop wasn’t even sure her eyes were open.
‘I been keeping tabs,’ Strickland said from the back, ‘and I think we maybe passed five side roads in total since leaving Winter Park back there. What if the local law decide to surprise us with a roadblock on this one? How do we get off it?’
‘That’s why I’m keeping us at a steady seventy,’ Bishop said. ‘The sooner we’re off this, the better. Once this road bears east it’s about another fifteen miles before Idaho Springs, and after that things start opening up again the closer we get to Denver. Meaning plenty of back roads.’
‘We’re not going through Denver?’
‘No, I plan on avoiding major cities for a while.’
‘Good.’
Clea turned to Bishop and said, ‘And how long are you planning to keep me here?’
‘Well, we have to be in Ohio by dawn on Thursday,’ he said, ‘so well before then I hope. I thought you were asleep, Clea.’
She turned back to the window. ‘Sleep? How can I sleep when my life’s been turned upside down like this? No offence, but I hate being in this car with you. I just hate it.’
‘You think I like it?’
‘Maybe not like, but I think you’re the kind of man who’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and right now I’m just an asset to help you get from A to B. And if I get damaged along the way you’ll cast me aside and find another asset to help you reach the next hurdle. That’s what I think.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Bishop said, although she wasn’t. Not completely.
The thing was, whenever he was faced with a seemingly insoluble problem he knew it was only a matter of time before the uncompromising – some would say almost obsessive – side of his character came to the forefront: that all-devouring single-mindedness that had been with him since childhood, where the problem at hand began to override all other considerations, such as other people’s needs and requirements, Clea’s current involvement being a good case in point. But that was just the way he was, the way he had always been. He wasn’t about to change now, even if he wanted to. And if he was honest he actually considered it more a strength than a flaw. After all, it was a state of mind that produced results. Most of the time.
‘Why don’t you just kidnap another pilot?’ Clea said, turning to him again. ‘You’re good at that. Then you could fly out of my life and be in Ohio in just a few hours.’
‘I considered it,’ Bishop said, ignoring the sarcasm, ‘and then discounted it. For a number of reasons.’
The main one being that there weren’t many private airports still operating this late. Certainly no flight schools. And by the time they opened up again in the morning, word would have gotten out and the feds would have every municipal airport and private landing strip under close surveillance. No, not a good idea at all.
She said, ‘I still don’t understand why you don’t contact the US Marshals and explain the situation to them like you’ve explained it to me. Instead of wasting time chasing after you they can then focus all their efforts on getting this man’s son back. They’ll have to.’
Strickland leaned forward and said, ‘Well, there’s a small problem there, Clea. See, my ex-boss has got a hell of a lot of people on his payroll, and a small percentage of those people are cops. I don’t know who. He never shared that information with anyone. But I do know the moment word got out I was in police custody, Hartnell would hear about it. He might snuff Barney’s light out in a fit of anger and I just can’t afford to take that risk. No, we’ll stick to the deal we made and trade me for my boy. It’s the only way.’
‘And then what happens? To you, I mean.’
‘Once Hartnell gets his dirty little mitts on me I’ll disappear forever.’
‘You mean he’ll kill you.’
‘That’s right. And it won’t be quick, either.’
‘And that doesn’t bother you?’
‘Well, I’m not exactly happy about it, but Barney’s safety is all that matters to me now.’
‘And how do you feel about that?’ she asked Bishop. ‘Does that bother you at all? Does anything?’
Bishop saw a pair of headlights suddenly appear in the distance. There must be a turn up ahead. He waited as the headlights flashed over them, and when the vehicle had passed by he said, ‘I’d prefer to keep both of them alive if I can.’
‘Really?’
‘Of cour
se. The moment Hartnell gets this man in his hands he wins again, just like he always does. I don’t like the thought of that.’
‘So this is all about winning and losing to you, is that it?’
He shook his head. ‘Far from it. And I can’t be summed up in a sound bite, Clea, so don’t even try.’
Bishop slowed as a sharp left turn came into view up ahead. He took the speed down to forty, followed it round and immediately picked up the pace again. From now on they’d be heading east – and not before time.
As the car lapsed into silence again, Bishop thought back to the fiction that Delaney had given him back at the house, and said to Strickland, ‘I’m still interested in the murder that started all this. So you actually witnessed Felix Hartnell personally pull the trigger on this undercover DEA agent?’
Strickland was silent for a moment as he looked out the windshield. Then he said, quietly, ‘Yeah, I saw it.’
‘So tell me how it all went down.’
‘Why?’
‘I want to know.’
Strickland took a deep breath and said, ‘Okay, well I guess it all started four months back when I got a call from one of Hartnell’s local dealers, a Salvador Ferrera. He was just a low-level street guy who worked out of Columbus, or so I thought at the time. Shows what little I knew. I’d collected some cash from him a couple of times so he knew I was fairly high up on the food chain, and he got a hold of my number and called me. Said he had something important he wanted to talk about. I met with him and he told me he wanted to talk to Hartnell about a police informer he knew about, high up in the organization. He said because the guy was so senior he’d only talk to Hartnell directly, otherwise forget it. And he added he’d also bring proof to back up his claims.’
‘So you arranged a meet.’
Strickland nodded. ‘I had to. I knew the guy was probably just trying to fast-track his way up the ladder by getting in Hartnell’s good books, but I also knew he had to have something or he’d never have even brought it up. But it still wasn’t easy, let me tell you. I wanted to talk to Hartnell about something, I had to pass through three layers of security before I even got to the front door and then I had to tell him face to face. That way, if the shit ever comes down it’s his word against yours. Nothing provable. Either that or I could tell Callaway and he’d tell Hartnell. But I never really trusted that guy, so I preferred to do it myself. So I made an appointment with one of Hartnell’s flunkies, drove over to his estate the next day and relayed to Hartnell what Ferrera had told me.’
‘And how did Hartnell take it?’ Bishop asked.
‘Not too well. That guy’s got a real temper, and you don’t want to be in the same room when he loses it. And nothing pisses him off more than the possibility of treachery in the ranks. Especially at the exec level. He started to calm down after a while and I finally suggested it couldn’t hurt to meet the guy and see what he had to say. Hartnell could choose the time and place, after all.’
‘And he agreed with you?’
‘Yeah. He said he’d get word to me about the final details, and that it would be my responsibility to make sure Ferrera came alone on the night. The following Friday I get word from Callaway that the meeting’s set for midnight at an old, vacant trading estate in a place called Lima, about eighty miles north-west of Columbus. I’d used the place before for another meet and knew the general layout. It’s located right out in the middle of nowhere, with three or four run-down old buildings set around a main square. It’s perfect. So I told Ferrera I’d pick him up at ten at his place in town and we’d go on from there.’
Bishop nodded. ‘So what went wrong?’
‘What makes you think something went wrong?’
‘Call it instinct.’
‘Well, you’re right. I, uh … well, I got held up by something and by the time I got to Ferrera’s, he was gone. Since I’d already given him the general location, he’d already left for the meet in his own car. I tried calling him but he didn’t answer, which really got me sweating. I was worried about him taking some friends along with him, you know? For all I knew this was some kind of hit he’d been planning all along, and if it was and it went wrong, I’d get the blame.’
‘But it wasn’t,’ Bishop said. ‘Ferrera was actually a deep-cover DEA agent.’
‘Right. But I obviously didn’t know that then. All I knew was that I had to get to Lima before Ferrera did and make sure everything was kosher.’
‘And did you?’
Strickland paused before nodding. ‘Just about. But it was close. I got there at about eleven forty-five and, uh … well, I parked round the back of one of the vacant buildings and quickly found Ferrera’s car behind one of the others. I found the guy waiting nearby on his own. Hartnell arrived just a few minutes later in his black limo and parked in the main square, if you could call it that.’
‘On his own?’ Bishop asked, watching as another vehicle’s headlights appeared in the distance.
‘Guys like him never go anywhere on their own. His favourite boy, Callaway, was there to watch his back, and doing double duty as the driver. And there was also a third guy there, too.’
‘Who?’
‘Some high-up business associate, I guess. I never saw him before.’
‘What did he look like?’
Strickland paused, then shrugged. ‘Hard to tell. He was wearing a raincoat and baseball cap, and I couldn’t see his face. Anyway, I show myself and bring Ferrera out. I say everything’s okay and bring the guy over to Callaway who searches him and then takes him back to Hartnell and the other guy. Hartnell tells me my part of the job’s done and to get lost. So I walked all the way back to my car and got in, ready to drive back to the main road.
‘Except I started to think to myself that maybe I was missing a golden opportunity here, you know? And they don’t come around too often. Not all gift-wrapped like this one was. And Hartnell came in with only Callaway for protection, remember, so obviously he felt the fewer witnesses to the meeting the better. So I decided to stick around for a while and see what all the fuss was about. I got out of the car again and quietly made my way back to the same building where Ferrera had been waiting. I crept in the back and worked my way up to the second floor and watched everything from up there.’
Strickland paused as he combed his fingers through his new haircut.
‘Go on,’ Bishop said.
Strickland smiled. ‘Got you on the edge of your seat, do I? Well, there isn’t much more to tell. By the time I got into position, Hartnell and Ferrera were already arguing about something, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then this other guy, the one in the raincoat, he pointed at Ferrera and said something. Hartnell turned to him and said, “Are you sure?” clear as day, and the guy nodded back and said something I didn’t catch.’
‘He identified Ferrera as a cop.’
‘He must have done, ’cause Hartnell then pulled an automatic from his coat pocket, pointed it at Ferrara’s head and pulled the trigger and kept on firing into his body until the gun clicked empty.’
‘Jesus,’ Clea whispered.
‘Yeah,’ Strickland said, ‘that’s pretty much what I was thinking. I knew Hartnell had a short fuse, but I never thought I’d see him actually pull the trigger himself. I do remember it was the first time I’d ever seen Callaway looking less than sure of—’
He stopped at the muffled sound of a ringing phone. They all heard it.
Strickland shifted in the seat and pulled the cell from his pocket. The shrill ringing tone echoed throughout the car interior. He looked at the display. ‘Unknown caller.’
‘It’ll be Callaway,’ Bishop said. ‘Remember to put it on speaker.’
Strickland nodded. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and took the call.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Callaway’s amplified voice said, ‘Well, here we are again, as promised. Miss me?’
‘Put my boy on,’ Strickland said.
C
allaway chuckled, the harsh sound reminding Bishop of paper being crinkled. ‘Now that doesn’t sound like the talkative fellow I used to know.’
‘Look, do I get to I talk to him or not?’
‘Keep your shirt on. He’s right here. And remember, no names or I hang up.’
There was silence on the line for a few moments. As Bishop drove he strained to identify ambient noises in the background, but except for the steady hum of the Explorer’s engine there was nothing.
Then a boy’s voice said, ‘You there, Dad?’
Bishop gave a long exhale. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath. It was Barney’s voice, though. He sounded as though he’d just woken up, but he was okay.
‘It’s me,’ Strickland said. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to hear your voice again, Ba— my boy.’
‘Me, too. I … I wish I could see you, Dad. I really do. Uh … so how are you?’
Good boy, Bishop thought. Barney hadn’t forgotten what he’d been taught last night.
‘How am I?’ Strickland said, ‘Forget about me. How are you? Are they treating you okay?’
‘Well, I, uh, I got scared before, but then I did that breathing exercise you taught me and I’m okay now. And they’re treating me all right, I guess. When I said I was hungry they brought me a few bags of chips and a big bottle of Coke.’
Bishop was watching Strickland and saw his eyes were already moist. He also kept rubbing his nose with his hand.
‘That’s good, son,’ Strickland said, sniffling. ‘That’s real good. Sounds like they’re taking care of you okay.’
‘Yeah, I guess. Oh, and they let me keep my Dingoo too, so I can still play Tetris.’
‘I’m real glad to hear it,’ Strickland said. ‘I know how you love that game.’
Bishop nodded to himself. He was a smart kid, all right. Ballsy, too. So far he’d learned that Barney was being kept in a room with no windows and only one exit, so probably a basement cell somewhere. And the mention of Tetris on his console meant there was just one guard watching him. But since he hadn’t mentioned that the game was always on there, that meant the guard wasn’t stationed in the room with him. Not that Bishop could really use any of that information right now, but it was enough to know that Barney was staying positive and keeping his cool.
