The Outsider (James Bishop 4)

by Dean, Jason

  This time the password prompt was immediately replaced by a green-tinted shot of the Pyramids of Giza, with two columns of icons running down the left-hand side.

  ‘How about that,’ Strickland said, pulling his head back. ‘We’re in.’

  ‘People should take more care with their passwords.’ Bishop checked the icons until he found the hard drive one on the second column. He pointed and said, ‘Open that.’

  Strickland moved the mouse and clicked on the icon and a folder opened up. Inside the folder were twenty-two .mkv video files. The title of the first one was 000243 and it was recorded three weeks before on October sixteenth. The next one, 000244, was recorded a day later, and so it went down the line, which meant the footage was automatically saved in twenty-four-hour chunks. And since there was only file for each day, it also meant there was only the one camera. The files all varied greatly in size too, although that made sense if the camera was motion-activated.

  The largest file was 756 MB while the lowest was yesterday’s instalment, at only 4 KB. Obviously, with the dog in the basement and Karen Lomax absent, there’d been nothing for the camera to record. Today’s recording was only 17.3 MB, and would contain a few minutes of Bishop and Strickland’s entrance along with a few seconds of Bishop looking right into the camera lens. But he was more interested in the file from two days before, the day of the massacre.

  The file size for that one was 34.7 MB. Bishop pointed at it and said, ‘Let’s take a look at this.’

  Strickland double-clicked on the file, which automatically launched the VLC Media Player. A video screen with basic navigation controls appeared in the top left corner of the screen. In the lower right corner of the video screen was the date and a time counter. The time read 00.01.24.

  Strickland moved the cursor to the navigation controls and clicked the Play button.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  The video screen showed a black-and-white, fish-eye aerial shot of the living room. The camera was at a very slight angle, so the view also included the lower part of the archway entrance leading to the front of the house. Bishop guessed it was the living-room light coming on that must have activated it. As the seconds ticked away on the time counter, all Bishop saw was a static view of the couch and the chairs and the coffee table.

  ‘Isn’t there any sound?’ he asked.

  Strickland edged closer. ‘Should be. The volume’s on max.’ He pressed a button on the control panel and the video enlarged to completely fill the screen. The video quality wasn’t too bad. Hardly high definition, but then you couldn’t expect too much detail from a fibre-optic.

  All of a sudden there was a series of loud barks, and a few seconds later Bishop saw a dark-haired female figure in a knee-length dressing gown backing into the living room from the direction of the front door. She had both arms around Biff’s neck and was dragging him back with her. Then Bishop saw the reason why. Two men followed them into the room, each holding a gun. The man on the left – stocky, black, with close-cropped hair, wearing a leather bomber jacket and light pants – kept his gun on Karen Lomax, while his Caucasian partner – leaner, fair-haired, wearing army jacket and jeans – kept his piece aimed at the dog. Biff kept on barking at the two intruders, even with Karen talking into his ear.

  ‘Get away from the mutt, lady,’ Army Jacket shouted, still aiming the gun at the dog.

  Biff’s barking began to tail off. Karen, still holding onto him, said, ‘Please don’t shoot. I’ll lock him away in the basement if you want, but please don’t kill him.’

  ‘I said move away, bitch,’ the same one said. He was no longer shouting, but he sounded no less threatening.

  ‘Be cool, Roy,’ Leather Jacket said. ‘Lady, you go ahead and lock him up if you want.’

  Roy turned to him with his mouth open. ‘You shittin’ me, Curtis?’

  Leather Jacket, or Curtis, shrugged. ‘I got no problem popping a cap in somebody, but I ain’t shootin’ no dogs. All right, Mrs Lomax, where’s this basement?’

  ‘Through the kitchen over there,’ she said. ‘You know my name? But I thought—’

  ‘Yeah, I know what you thought.’ Curtis chuckled. ‘But home invasions ain’t exactly our style. Now let’s get this dog of yours stashed away before my partner here starts getting impatient. Move it.’

  Curtis followed Mrs Lomax and Biff out of shot, while the other one placed his gun in his waistband and pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter from his jacket pocket. He extracted and lit a cigarette, then grabbed the gun again. This at least explained the faint tobacco smell Bishop had noticed before.

  Less than a minute later, Curtis and a sniffling Karen Lomax came back into shot, without Biff. He said, ‘All right, lady, we still got a short drive ahead of us so you better get some clothes on. It’s cold out and you’re gonna be with us for a while.’

  ‘Clothes?’ she said in a breaking voice. ‘But … but I still don’t understand what you want from me.’

  ‘You just need to make some phone calls to your old man when we tell you. That’s all. Easy as pie.’

  ‘Phone calls? But why? And for how long? What about my dog? He’s locked down there with no—’

  Roy grabbed her harshly by the arm. ‘No more questions, bitch. From now on you just do as you’re told, understand?’ He smiled at his partner and said, ‘I’ll make sure she gets dressed okay,’ as he dragged the poor woman towards the bedroom.

  Curtis sat on the coffee table and waited.

  Less than a minute later, there was a muffled ringing sound and he pulled out a cell phone from his jacket pocket. He checked the display and then brought it to his ear and said, ‘Hello? … Yeah, yeah, we’re there now. It all went like clockwork. We’re just about to leave for the … Yeah, that’s right … Well, don’t blame me, I didn’t pick it out. You know how Roy goes apeshit over anything to do with the movies. We were out scoping the area and he saw the old place and his eyes just lit up. Said it reminded him of his childhood.’ He laughed at something, then said, ‘Well, that’s where he gets all his tough-guy dialogue from … Yeah, well, it’s pretty cold in there, but we picked up portable heaters and lights from a camping store, and there ain’t any neighbours so we should be all right for a few days.’

  He paused, listening to the person on the other end for a few moments, then said, ‘That so? So where’s he planning to make the exchange? … Same place he used last time, huh? … Well, he’s got a long history with the main man, so I guess he can play it however he wants … Yeah, I know … Okay, I’ll call you again in a couple of hours … Right.’

  He hung up the phone, then walked off towards the bedroom and disappeared off the screen. With nothing to see, Bishop strained to listen. He could make out very faint voices, mixed in with equally faint barking. Obviously Biff, voicing his displeasure at being locked away from his mistress. For all his talk about not wanting to shoot dogs, Curtis sure didn’t seem too bothered about locking them underground and starving them to death.

  Two more minutes passed with nothing happening. Then at 01.32.18 Bishop saw a pair of tan pants and black shoes and then the living-room light went off. A few seconds later he heard the slam of a door, after which there was nothing but darkness and the faint sound of barking. It seemed the three of them had just left the house.

  At the bottom of the screen, the playhead was about an inch from the end of the timeline. ‘Fast-forward the rest,’ Bishop said.

  Strickland slowly dragged the cursor across the playhead. The video screen stayed dark for another two minutes until the movie simply stopped. He sat back in the chair and looked at Bishop. ‘So did I hear right? This Curtis character actually knows the final location for the switch?’

  ‘We both heard it.’ Bishop leaned against the wall facing the stairs, where the dog was still in the same position, still watching them. ‘And if we can locate him quickly and I pry that same information out of him we’ve got a good chance of reaching the site before Callaway gets there, and who kno
ws what might happen then?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Strickland said, nodding. ‘That’d sure be something, wouldn’t it? But at least you know Lomax was the leak now too.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t.’

  ‘Huh? What are you talking about? You heard what that Curtis said to—’

  ‘Think it over for a moment,’ Bishop said. ‘According to what we’ve heard, it seems Karen Lomax was told to call her husband yesterday morning at regular intervals and make sure he was doing what he was supposed to, such as sabotaging the getaway vehicle and hiding that key. But why didn’t those two break into the house the night before, or two nights before? Why wait until the morning of the attack to grab her?’

  Strickland looked at him. ‘You lost me. What difference does that make?’

  ‘It makes all the difference. It means that while her husband probably did sabotage the getaway car, he couldn’t possibly be the cause of the leak that led them there in the first place.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because the whole thing would take too long to set up. The assault on the safe house started at a quarter past seven yesterday morning, yet those two goons didn’t show up here until a quarter past one that very same morning. So even if Lomax gave them our location the moment he was contacted, that still only gives Callaway six hours at most to organize and prep everything. Which is impossible. It simply can’t be done, not within that timescale. His hit team still have to fly to Vegas and familiarize themselves with the location and work out getaway routes. Then there’s the fake courier van to arrange, and the fake mailman. And then there’s that bus driver too, don’t forget.’

  ‘Hey, you lost me again.’ Strickland patted the air. ‘What bus driver?’

  Bishop realized he was thinking out loud, and that Strickland couldn’t possibly know what he was talking about since he’d been in the bedroom with Barney at the time.

  ‘There was a school bus that faked a breakdown near the front of the house,’ he said. ‘That’s how it all started. Sweeney said it was the same guy as the day before, and I know for a fact that the driver was one of Hartnell’s people, which means they had to know the location at least a day before they hit us. Probably longer. There’s no other way. It was all too well planned. Also, this Curtis told Karen Lomax she’d be staying with them for a while, so obviously they’re holding her on ice for good reason. But I can’t figure out what they could be waiting for. Unless it’s for Lomax to regain consciousness …’

  ‘Hey, look,’ Strickland cut in, ‘this is all real interesting, but how about we just focus on one thing at a time, huh? The clock’s still ticking, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

  Bishop smiled at the mild rebuke. ‘Okay, so depending on what Curtis classifies as a short drive, then it’s reasonable to assume Karen Lomax is being kept not too far from here. Either somewhere in Bloomington or in a neighbouring town. And if they’ve got any intelligence at all, probably the latter.’

  Strickland scratched at his chin stubble. ‘What’s wrong with this place, though? We’re in a remote location with not many neighbours. Seems like a perfect spot already.’

  ‘And if Lomax wakes up and decides not to play ball anymore, and says his wife’s currently being held hostage? Where’s the first place the cops are going to check?’

  Strickland nodded. ‘Okay, I get you. But this Curtis said they were heading out to some old place they’d found, where they needed to bring in their own heaters and lights. So somewhere abandoned, you think?’

  ‘I think. And from the comments he made about his partner, Roy, I’m inclined to believe it’s an old deserted movie theatre, or something along those lines. Is that modem switched on?’

  Strickland reached forward and clicked something at the back of the box. Green lights started flashing. ‘It is now. Hey, maybe he was talking about an abandoned drive-in site. You know, like an old ticket office or something. There’s plenty of those in Indiana.’

  ‘That’s possible, I guess, although we could be here the rest of the night checking those. Bloomington’s smack in the centre of Monroe County, though, so let’s restrict the search to that area.’

  Bishop watched as Strickland opened a browser. He keyed abandoned drive-in monroe indiana into Google’s search panel and pressed Enter. He checked the results, then shook his head and went to the next page. As he scanned the third page of listings, he said, ‘Turns out they got a few drive-ins still doing business in this area. They even got a big one in Harrodsburg, about twenty miles to the south of us.’

  ‘If it’s still in business, then it’s no good as a hideout. What else?’

  ‘There’s an abandoned one in Huntsville to the north, which is well out of Monroe, and another one in Bedford, forty miles south of us.’

  ‘That’s too far away. For them, and for us.’

  ‘Well, that’s it for old drive-ins, then. At least as far as Google’s concerned.’ Next, he typed abandoned movie theatre monroe indiana into the search panel and pressed Enter. More results came up. Strickland leaned in close to the screen and when he reached the bottom of the first page, he said, ‘Hey, I might have something here.’

  Bishop looked as Strickland clicked on the mouse. A new page opened up with The Breeden Gazette in large red letters at the top. So clearly a local newspaper. Under the headline, Business Consortium Puts Forward Offer for Downtown Properties, were two short paragraphs accompanied by two photos. One showed a line of rundown, one-storey, retail premises with shutters over the fronts. The other photo depicted a dilapidated two-storey building out on its own, but in a similar area. There was a half-destroyed marquee out front, while thick wooden planks had been nailed over the front entrance. THE CARDINAL was written in large faded red script along the side of the building.

  Bishop skimmed through the article. It didn’t say much more than the headline. Just that a newly formed consortium of local business owners had put in an offer for two blocks of Breeden’s downtown area along South Shelbourne Road, and were already talking to investors and contractors about constructing a shopping mall and multiplex on the site. They were also talking to city councilmen about zoning permissions.

  ‘The Cardinal,’ Strickland said. ‘For a temporary hideout, I’d say that place pretty much fits the bill.’

  Bishop had to agree. ‘And no other prospects in the vicinity?’

  Strickland clicked on the next page of search results, quickly perused the entries, then tried the third page. Finally he shook his head. ‘Can’t find anything.’

  ‘Okay, so how far’s Breeden from here?’

  Strickland went to Google Maps and keyed Breeden Indiana into the search box. The resulting map showed a small township along Route 46. Strickland zoomed out until they were able to see it was only about fifteen miles north-west of their current location.

  ‘Good,’ Bishop said.

  He checked the time in the top right corner of the screen: 00.04. Only six hours left. Call it three and a half hours to get to the Ohio state line, then possibly another hour or so to reach the final site. Assuming things went as he wanted them to.

  And how often does that happen?

  No doubt about it: it would be tight. But if they could find out the final location ahead of time, it would be more than worth the risk. Added to which, there was also the matter of Karen Lomax. Bishop couldn’t just stand by and leave her in the hands of those two, especially as there was no possible way they were going to leave her alive afterwards. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she could put in a good word for him, either. He’d feel the same way if she were a complete stranger. Besides, the footage they’d just seen would be enough to get the cops off his back once this was all over, so in effect he didn’t actually need the woman at all anymore. But he still had to do something.

  He watched as Strickland sat there, quietly thinking things through. Bishop also found it odd how his feelings for the guy kept fluctuating. For instance, after learning of his true connection to Hartnell, Bisho
p’s opinion of the guy had immediately taken a downward swing, and it hadn’t been all that high to begin with. Yet during their time together on the road Strickland had gradually grown on him again. His clear unambiguous love for the boy and his willingness to lay down his life for him was the main reason for that, of course. It was an attitude Bishop couldn’t help but admire, and respect.

  And Strickland also knew that if Hartnell had his way his final moments wouldn’t be easy. That was a hard thing to grasp for most people. Bishop had long ago come to terms with his own demise, for example, and he knew when it came it would probably be violent. But it was different when it was in the abstract, whereas Strickland had a fairly good idea of when he was going to go. And that it would be painful.

  But the man didn’t falter. Like all single-minded people, he just kept on going until he reached his goal. Bishop liked that. And he was also coming to realize that Barney’s inner strength might not have been inherited solely from his mother’s side.

  Strickland finally raised his head, and said, ‘You waiting on me?’

  ‘I’m ready to go whenever you are.’

  Strickland stood up. ‘Then let’s get to it,’ he said.

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  They reached the township of Breeden – pop. 3,400 – at 00.23.

  Before leaving the house Bishop had left some extra food and water to keep the big guy going for a while, and he’d also found a mini LED flashlight with working batteries in one of the kitchen drawers and taken it along, knowing it was bound to come in handy. Once back in the Nissan, Bishop had then taken them north-west on Route 46 until they reached their destination a quarter of an hour later.

  There were very few places still open in the main part of town. Just a handful of bars, an all-night diner and an Esso gas station. Turning onto South Shelbourne Road at 00.26, Bishop reduced his speed to twenty and watched both sides, looking for something he recognized. There were no pedestrians at that time of night and their car was the only moving vehicle on the street, which seemed to be made up entirely of business premises and retail units. The further south they went the more impoverished things became, although there were still a few cars parked along both sides of the street.