The Outsider (James Bishop 4)

by Dean, Jason

  ‘Dad,’ Barney said in a forlorn voice, with one hand pressed to his lower back. He turned to Bishop. ‘Where is he? Did you see?’

  ‘He’s in the SUV,’ Bishop said, then swivelled his body at the sound of movement behind him. He raised the Glock, finger already on the trigger.

  But it was just Nelson. He was carrying his M24 rifle in one hand and a small canvas ammo pouch in the other. He nodded at Bishop, who lowered the gun and turned back to the departing SUV. It was already about two hundred and fifty feet away. The other two vehicles were also in motion just ahead of it.

  Nelson stood behind them, watching the vehicles recede. ‘I don’t know,’ he said in a musing tone. ‘Maybe Callaway cuffed him before he could get to his pocket. Or maybe he just knocked the guy out and then searched him.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Bishop agreed.

  Barney turned to Bishop, looking as confused as ever. ‘What? I don’t understand. Search for what?’

  Bishop was just opening his mouth to say, ‘The detonator,’ when there was a brilliant flash of light, accompanied by a thunderous roar, as the SUV exploded in a huge ball of flame.

  EIGHTY-ONE

  Barney jumped at the sudden noise of the blast. They all did. It was that loud. Even from two hundred and fifty feet away it sounded like the end of the world. Bishop watched as the flames coming from the vehicle were immediately engulfed by an enormous ball of black smoke, which in turn blossomed out even further before rising into the sky.

  The SUV was gone. All that was left was an undefined shape that could have been anything. Bishop saw the other two vehicles had caught a good part of the blast too. One was lying on its roof about twenty feet away. The other car was still upright, but the roof and window frames were now completely missing, as though somebody had sheared through it with a large horizontal scythe.

  ‘Dad!’ Barney screamed. He tried to jump through the gap in the wall, but Bishop grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him back in.

  ‘You blew him up, you blew him up,’ Barney cried, struggling to free himself and punching Bishop in the chest, in the stomach, in the neck. ‘You killed my dad, you shithead.’

  Bishop took the punches for a while, letting the boy work off his anger and grief. He understood the kid needed to lash out at something. It was only natural. But when Barney got a good one in that almost flattened his windpipe, he grabbed the boy’s fist and said calmly, ‘Stop, Barney. I didn’t do anything. It was your dad’s choice.’

  The punches stopped as suddenly as they started. Barney dropped his hands and looked up at him, his eyes full of tears. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Your dad was many things, Barney, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew what would happen once Hartnell got his hands on him, and that it wouldn’t be pretty. You understand what I’m saying?’

  The boy swallowed. ‘You … you mean they’d torture him?’

  ‘Maybe not torture, but they would have certainly drawn things out to maximize the pain. See, your dad had already come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t survive this, but what he was most concerned about – other than making sure you were safe – was the manner in which he went. He told me that when his time came he wanted it to be on his terms, and that’s exactly what he did.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You saw what happened. You don’t need to hear the grisly details.’

  The boy sniffed. ‘I want to know everything. Tell me.’

  Bishop studied the boy for a beat, then shrugged. He had the right to hear the truth, if that’s what he wanted. ‘Nelson here brought along a lot of extra stuff in that bag of his, including five pounds of C4. As soon as your dad saw the two blocks of plastic explosive he came up with the idea of strapping them to his stomach and setting them off once he was alone with Callaway. I agreed, and reshaped the plastique and taped it to his body, then ran the detonator leads through his jacket pocket. That’s why he pulled your arms away when you hugged him round the waist. He must have been afraid the stuff might go off by accident, but plastique only ignites when you send a high energy shockwave into the blasting caps.’

  Bishop looked out at the still-smoking wreck of the vehicle, imagining Strickland’s last few seconds on this earth. With what he now knew of the man, he had no doubt that Strickland had been thinking of Barney at the very last moment as he pressed down on that button. He said, ‘I also think your dad purposely waited for the SUV to catch up with the other two vehicles before pressing the button. He told me he wanted to take as many of the enemy with him as he possibly could. No doubt about it, your dad had real guts.’

  Barney was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘Did it … did it hurt at all?’

  ‘No, it would have been instantaneous, like a light being switched on. Believe me, he wouldn’t have felt anything at all. And he went out a winner too, remember that.’

  Sniffing back more tears, Barney said, ‘A winner?’

  ‘I’d say so. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I know I would,’ Nelson said. He was crouched down in front of the gym bag as he carefully placed his rifle inside. He zipped the bag closed and added, ‘Your old man had class, kid. When my turn comes I want to go out like that. Not that I will, of course.’

  Bishop pulled out his cell phone and checked the display. It was still only 06.23. Astonishing. He’d thought it much later.

  ‘So what happens now?’ Nelson asked, rising to his feet.

  ‘Now I call the feds to come bring the two of us in,’ Bishop said. ‘But there’s no reason for anybody else to know of your involvement here, so you’d better take off.’

  ‘You sure, man? I don’t mind sticking around. Maybe I can help.’

  ‘You already have, Nels. I won’t forget what you did here today.’

  Nelson offered Bishop a clenched fist. ‘What buddies are for, right?’

  ‘Right,’ Bishop said. He bumped fists with his old comrade, and said, ‘Now get lost. And take your crap with you.’

  ‘I’m gone.’ With a grin, Nelson hefted the gym bag over his shoulder and stepped through the gap in the wall. Then he gave Barney a salute, turned right and immediately disappeared from view.

  Barney stared mutely out at the wreckage, which was still sending huge black smoke signals up into the sky, and wiped an arm across his eyes.

  Bishop raised the cell phone and keyed in the number he’d memorized while he and Strickland had been waiting in this very spot before. After five rings, the phone was picked up and a male voice said, ‘US Marshals Service, Columbus Office.’

  ‘My name’s Bishop. I’m here with the son of a missing witness of yours. I understand you’ve been looking for us …’

  EIGHTY-TWO

  They were both sitting on the ground in front of the main building, waiting for the marshals to arrive, when Barney finally raised his head from between his knees to stare at the wreckage before them. Bishop saw his eyes were red-rimmed, but dry. He wondered if the boy had simply cried himself out, just as Bishop had done all those years ago.

  After thirty minutes of silence he was still waiting for Barney to speak, but he figured he’d talk when he was good and ready. That’s how Bishop had been after his own personal apocalypse. And after everything he’d been through, the boy deserved his own space and to be able to proceed in his own time.

  So Bishop just waited.

  The SUV remains were still smoking, although nowhere near as much as before. Bishop had already checked the other vehicles half an hour ago. The one with its roof sheared off had contained nothing but body parts and blood, a real mess. The car lying on its roof had contained three more bodies. The two passengers were dead while the unconscious driver was bleeding badly from numerous wounds caused by the explosion. Bishop just left him there to bleed out. With any luck, the guy was dead by now.

  Best thing for him, really.

  Finally, Barney gave a long sigh and said, ‘So I’m alone now. Mom’s dead. Dad’s dead. I might as well be dead too.’
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  ‘Actually, the exact opposite is true,’ Bishop said. ‘You have to remember that everything your father did, he did so that you’d come out of this alive and healthy. That’s all he cared about, all he talked about these last two days. And while I never met your mother, I can pretty much guarantee she felt the same way. They both lived for you, Barney, and that means you now have to live for them.’

  Barney snorted. ‘Sure, just live. Piece of cake.’

  ‘Oh, it’s anything but. Death is easy, it’s living that’s hard. I know that. Especially when you’ve lost the people who mean the most to you. And while it feels as though the sky’s falling in on you now, it isn’t. You’ll get through this. I know you will.’

  Barney looked at him. ‘Yeah? How d’you know that?’

  ‘Because you’re tough, a lot tougher than most kids your age. It’s a quality you’ve clearly inherited from both your mother and your father, and it’s something I saw in you the moment I first met you.’

  Barney stared at the wreckage. ‘So I’m tough. Big deal. I’m still alone, aren’t I?’

  ‘Not necessarily. I believe your mom had a sister named Marian Slocombe, who lives in West Vancouver, isn’t that right?’

  The boy turned to him, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know about her?’

  ‘You dad brought her name up while we were waiting for you. Said she’d moved up there some time back and that she was married with her own kids. He also said that while she’d never had much time for him she’d always been real fond of you, and he made me promise I’d go up there afterwards and tell her everything that happened. He seemed certain that she’d be happy to have you and that she’d do a good job of bringing you up right.’

  ‘Aunt Marian,’ Barney said quietly to himself. ‘I forgot about her. Yeah, she didn’t like Dad at all, but, you know, she always loved me. And she always treated me like one of the family too.’

  ‘That’s because you are. So maybe you’re not quite as alone as you first thought.’

  Barney gave a small frown, as though considering the possibility that there was some hope left for him. Then Bishop turned his head as he heard something that sounded like helicopter rotors in the distance. Looking up, he spotted two small specks approaching from the south-east and watched as the two specks gradually morphed into two helicopters. The larger one looked like a Sikorsky Black Hawk. He recognized the familiar bulky shape immediately. The other one was smaller and looked like a standard police Airbus.

  ‘Looks like our ride’s here,’ he said.

  Barney followed his gaze up to the two approaching choppers.

  Thirty seconds later the Black Hawk reached the square and began to descend. It was black with a gold stripe running around the main body. The side door had already been slid into the open position and half a dozen armed agents were sitting inside, all watching Bishop. The harsh air currents from the rotors tore at his face as the chopper got closer to the ground.

  Over the noise of the rotors, Bishop yelled, ‘Better move away from me, Barn.’

  Barney didn’t ask why. He just got up and moved ten feet to Bishop’s right. The moment the helicopter’s landing gear made contact with the ground, everybody poured out of the side door. Two men immediately crouched down close to the skid and covered the immediate area with automatic weapons as the other four ran towards Bishop and Barney.

  Bishop knew what was coming next. He raised both hands and watched them approach.

  Three males, one female, all carrying Glocks. The female and two of the men wore navy-blue caps, and navy-blue windbreakers with US MARSHALS printed in large white letters down the sleeves. The third man was in plain clothes.

  When they were still only twenty feet away all four slowed to a trot and spread out. The male marshal in front yelled, ‘On your knees, Bishop. Hands behind your head. Hands behind your head. Move.’

  Bishop obeyed. He raised himself up until he was on his knees and then clasped both hands behind his head. Behind the approaching figures, he saw the smaller chopper gently touch down about a hundred feet behind the Black Hawk. More figures exited this second chopper and moved towards the wrecked vehicles beyond.

  The first marshal stopped in front of Bishop, his Glock still aimed at Bishop’s head, and said, ‘Don’t move an inch. Just remain perfectly still.’

  The other two marshals had already moved behind Bishop, and he felt himself being body-searched. He was no longer armed anyway. After wiping his prints off Trooper Steve’s Glock 22, he’d placed the gun next to the dying gunman in the overturned car. He already had enough problems without adding possession of a stolen firearm to the list.

  One of the marshals behind Bishop pulled his left hand down and snapped a flex cuff around the wrist. Then the other one. Bishop saw that the plain-clothes guy had holstered his weapon and was now showing Barney his ID while he spoke to somebody on his cell.

  ‘What the hell went down here?’ the first marshal asked. He was a burly, bearded, black guy of about Bishop’s age, with small eyes and linebacker’s shoulders. Bishop figured he had to be the senior marshal here.

  Bishop said, ‘Am I under arrest?’

  ‘We’ll call it protective custody for now,’ the marshal said, and holstered his gun. ‘Now what happened here, and where’s that boy’s father?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Dead? How?’

  Bishop briefly explained how the man had blown himself up along with a large contingent of bad guys. When the marshal pressed for more details, he quickly went over the main events of the past two days: the escape from the safe house with Strickland and Barney; the firefight that resulted in the deaths of the two state troopers and Barney’s kidnapping; Callaway’s ultimatum and the deadline; their race across the country to get to Ohio in time. Bishop was just getting to the exchange itself when another marshal from the other chopper approached the black marshal and began speaking to him in a low voice.

  The plain-clothes man also walked over to their group with Barney in tow. The boy was chewing his cheek and staring at everybody in turn.

  Once the two marshals had finished their mini conference, the black deputy turned to Bishop and said, ‘Seems some of the hostiles were taken out by rifle fire originating from this building behind you. Would that be the same person who supplied the plastic explosive?’

  ‘It would.’

  ‘So who is he?’

  ‘A friend of mine. You just missed him.’

  ‘Uh-huh. And this friend of yours, does he have a name?’

  ‘Everybody’s got a name.’

  The marshal was about to say something else, but the plain-clothes man cut in with, ‘Deputy Yeaton, I need to speak with you.’

  The black marshal turned to him. ‘What about?’

  ‘I’ve talked to District Attorney Raines and he wants to talk to the boy here without delay. I’m to fly back to the courthouse immediately with him.’

  ‘So go. You can take the Airbus back.’

  ‘I would, except he refuses to go anywhere unless Bishop here goes with him.’

  Yeaton looked at Barney. ‘And why’s that, son?’

  ‘I’m not your son,’ Barney said, his expression hard and unyielding. ‘I don’t know you and I don’t know any of these people. But I know Bishop, and I trust him. And I want him with me.’

  ‘Well, you can see we’ve got a lot of bodies here and the police will want some answers when they get here. And it’s important that this man give them to us while it’s still fresh in his mind. You do understand that, right?’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Barney said. ‘I’m not talking to anybody unless Bishop’s with me, and that’s that.’

  Bishop silently applauded the boy. Only twelve years old and already refusing to take crap from anyone. But then it wasn’t exactly surprising. Barney had had to grow up fast over the last couple of days, and he’d been pretty mature to begin with.

  ‘See what I mean?’ the plain-
clothes guy said. ‘Now you can call your superior if you want, but he’ll only tell you what you already know, which is that the DA’s directives take full priority here. Anyone who wants to interview Bishop can do it back at the courthouse, but we have to leave now.’

  Yeaton gave a loud sigh. ‘Fine. Williamson, Palmer, you stay here with the others and wait for the sheriff’s department to get here. Tell them Golinski and me are flying back with the two witnesses and Mr Goodwin here. Got it?’

  The marshal who’d spoken with Yeaton said, ‘Yes, sir,’ and trotted back towards the others. One of the other marshals behind Bishop helped him to his feet and then the five of them began walking towards the two choppers. He noticed the smaller one, the Airbus, was already powering up again. When they reached the chopper Yeaton helped Bishop aboard, placing him on the rear bench seat next to Golinski. Goodwin, Yeaton and Barney took the seats opposite. Nobody bothered trying to talk over the noise of the rotors, which rose steadily in pitch until it became almost deafening. The pilot completed his instrument checks, then took them up and headed back in the direction from which he’d come.

  While everybody else stared out the windows, Bishop spent the journey looking at his shoes, thinking. There were still a number of other problem areas that nagged at him. More than a few, in fact. There was his own legal situation, of course, which was shaky at best, but he felt confident that would work itself out. Mrs Lomax could probably help in that regard, along with that footage on her husband’s hard drive. But he could worry about all that later.

  Right now he was going through every conversation he’d had with John Strickland over the past two days, paying extra special attention to the pauses, since it was often during those moments of hesitation that you got the real story. Back when they were in Clea’s Explorer, for example, he’d asked Strickland, ‘You saw him do it?’ in reference to Hartnell. And Strickland had hesitated for a moment before confirming that he had. Just a small thing, but that little pause had puzzled Bishop at the time. And it still puzzled him.