by Jason Dean
‘You know it. So is that okay, or do you need anything more?’
‘That’s all for now, Muro. Thanks.’ Bishop hung up, then updated Kidanu with what he’d just learned.
‘So you were right about Klyce.’ Kidanu frowned. ‘But why would Continental Surveying bill Xerxes for their services if they are owned by the same person?’
‘Possibly for tax purposes, to prove to the Canadian government they’re a legit company with an income. But I like what I’m hearing. It’s looking more and more like Klyce is compartmentalizing his business affairs.’
Kidanu said, ‘You mean he uses Artemis only for the legitimate side of his business?’
‘Well, not entirely. If I’m right, he also uses it as a cover for a little arms trafficking on the side. But LCT must take a healthy slice of the profits from that. So maybe he set up another company, Xerxes, to handle his other not-so-legit sidelines.’
Kidanu nodded. ‘Such as handling the payments for warning certain targets ahead of time.’
‘Right. That statement we saw said there was already eighty mil in the company account, and that’s all Klyce’s. And then there’s his Continental Surveying company, which must also exist for a reason, although I’m damned if I know what. For that matter, what’s the significance of basing it north of the border? What’s so special about Ottawa?’
Kidanu said nothing and sipped at his drink. Bishop drummed his fingers on the table, trying to come up with answers to his own questions. None came.
After a few moments, he said, ‘Well, it looks as though my next stop’s Canada.’
FIFTY-FIVE
‘I assume you mean Ottawa,’ Kidanu said, putting down his glass.
‘Correct.’
‘And you have your passport with you, or can Americans cross without one?’
‘No, they changed that rule a while back. But as a New York resident I’ve got an enhanced driver’s licence, and that doubles as a passport for land border crossings.’
‘I see. And what do you expect to find in Canada?’
‘I expect nothing. But I’m hoping I’ll find Klyce there. Because the more I find out, the more I think he’s behind Amy’s attack. But I need to know for sure, and the only way I can do that is by confronting him directly.’
‘And why should he admit anything to you?’
‘I’ll give him incentive.’
Kidanu stared at him for a few beats. Then, ‘And if he admits it, what then?’
Bishop shrugged. ‘Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t get to try a third time.’
‘And what if he is not there?’
‘Then I’ll look the place over anyway and see what he’s up to out there. Something’s definitely not right about this set-up, so maybe I can use it as ammunition against him in some way. Look, you can do what you want, but I’m going.’
‘Then I will go also. You plan to leave now?’
Bishop considered it. He wanted to keep moving, but he hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours and even then it hadn’t been for very long. And it was an eight or nine-hour drive to the border. He was shattered. Maybe having Kidanu along could solve that problem. ‘Can you drive?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but not for some years. And I have also been awake for thirty hours now. I do not think it is safe for me to get behind the wheel of a vehicle for an extended period.’
Shit. So much for that idea. Bishop said, ‘Okay, tomorrow’s Sunday, so we’ll grab a couple of rooms in a nearby motel and make a fresh start first thing in the morning.’
Back in the car, after making a quick stop at a convenience store where Kidanu picked up a few essentials, Bishop followed the waitress’s directions to the Red Rail Motel. It was located on a cul-de-sac off the I-81, on the outskirts of town. Bishop pulled into the courtyard and saw a long two-storey structure with space for maybe fifty rooms. There were already about two dozen vehicles in the huge parking area out front.
At the front office, Bishop asked for two rooms. The guy slid a couple of registration forms across the desk for them to fill in. Bishop wrote a few things down on his, none of them true, and then the guy handed them each their key cards.
After agreeing on a six-thirty start, Bishop and Kidanu parted and went off to their first-floor rooms. Bishop had been on the go all day, so his first task was to take a long shower. Ten minutes later, feeling partially refreshed, he towelled himself off and slipped on a fresh pair of boxers. He lay on top of one of the twin beds and closed his eyes as he relived the day’s events again.
First there was his capture at the Konamban embassy, which actually turned out better than he could have hoped. Okay, he’d been saddled with an initially unwanted partner in Kidanu, but the guy had proved useful today. And to be honest, Bishop preferred to have a man like Bekele for him than against him.
Then there was the discovery of Amy’s CD and the files it contained, which was down to Kidanu, he had to admit. Of course, the information had ended up producing more questions than answers, but it also further implicated Klyce, assuming Muro’s information on the various companies’ ownership was correct. And there was no reason it shouldn’t be. The CD had also led to Janine Hernandez, who had provided him with the Canada lead, so at least Bishop felt he was making some kind of progress.
And he thought about Kidanu’s story, too. About how he’d been forced to watch the brutal slaughter and mutilation of his young family. That was something that would destroy most people. With Kidanu, it had just made him stronger. Or perhaps harder. There was a difference. Bishop knew from experience.
But it seemed their individual circumstances weren’t so different from each other. They both had similar goals. Kidanu was intent on finding the man who’d destroyed his family fifteen years before, while Bishop was tracking those intent on destroying his right now. But where they differed was in their motives. Kidanu wanted revenge. Bishop just wanted Amy safe. That was a big difference right there.
Bishop brushed motivations aside for a moment and turned his mind back to the information they’d found on the CD, trying to see if he’d missed a connection somewhere.
He went through it all again and again, but at some point his mind just stopped working and he fell asleep.
FIFTY-SIX
The next morning, after a quick breakfast at a nearby diner, Bishop and Kidanu took the I-81 North out of Harrisburg. Kidanu had changed from his suit into a grey turtlenecked shirt and black jeans. Bishop was still wearing the black windbreaker, long-sleeved polo shirt and dark pants from yesterday.
Bishop stayed on the I-81 most of the way to Wellesley Island, where it morphed into the Thousand Islands Bridge. They reached the border crossing at 14.08. After the guard on the Canadian side waved them through without incident, Bishop continued along Highway 137 North for a couple of miles, then took a right when it joined up with the 401 Freeway.
‘Canada is very spacious,’ Kidanu said, looking out the window. It was a sunny day, with few clouds in the sky. ‘Also very green.’
‘More original forest here than any other country,’ Bishop said. ‘If you believe the tourist board. Which I’m inclined to do in this case.’
And hardly any traffic, either. Which made a nice change. Twenty-five miles and almost twenty-five minutes later, Bishop was driving northwest on Highway 29 outside Brockville. They hadn’t seen another vehicle for almost a full minute when Kidanu spotted the turnoff for New Dublin Road on their right. Bishop slowed and made the turn.
The road was mostly farmland or forest on either side, with the occasional house or farm adding a little colour to the landscape. And all set well apart from each other. As Kidanu had said, space clearly wasn’t an issue in this part of the world.
They passed more farms and houses, as well as a few business premises here and there, including a couple of buildings that looked like manufacturing plants of some kind. It was almost two miles later when Kidanu spotted the mailbox for 7512 on his side. Bishop slowed the vehicle to a crawl, at t
he same time looking past Kidanu at what lay beyond.
All he could see was a lot of flat farmland on that side. Evergreens concealed much of it from the road. Just past the mailbox was a long dirt driveway that ended in a gated entrance about a hundred feet further in. In the distance, he could just make out a large, one-storey farmhouse-type structure, with a barn on the left. Stretching off to the left and right of the gate was razor-wire-topped barbed wire fencing. Bishop thought he could see insulators on the permanent line posts, too. Which meant it was electrified. There was a ten-foot high steel post just past the gate, and affixed to the top was something that could have been a security camera. On either side of the gate was a small brick pillar. He thought he saw a tan box attached to the left-hand one, and then they were past.
He continued on for a few more yards until he was sure they were completely protected by the trees, and then pulled to the side of the road. About two hundred feet up ahead on the left, he spotted another dirt road entrance between some more trees. And a large sign outside that read New Dublin Fire Station & Training Centre.
‘Well, it appears to be a farm,’ Kidanu said. ‘On the surface, at least.’
‘I’d almost believe it myself except for the security camera above the gate. And the razor wire. That seems a little like overkill for a farm out in the middle of nowhere.’ He turned to Kidanu. ‘Have you got one of those smart phones with the large screen?’
‘Yes. All embassy staff have them.’ Kidanu reached into his jacket and pulled out a cell similar to Gerry’s. ‘Why?’
‘Google Maps, that’s why.’
Kidanu nodded, and played an index finger across the touch screen. A minute later he said, ‘According to the street map, we are near the very end of this road. See?’
Bishop took the phone and saw a satellite view of this section of New Dublin Road, with an arrow pointing to their spot. Bishop used his thumb and index finger to enlarge the image until it was at full magnification. Beyond the trees lining the street, he could now make out the farmhouse he’d spotted in the distance. There were also two annexes – the smaller barn at the side and another building at the rear. The barn was probably a garage, but the one at the rear was only slightly smaller than the main house, with a covered walkway connecting the two.
And all around the land, roughly two acres according to the scale, was a fence. It was only really noticeable if you already knew it was there. Bishop doubted the electricity running through it would be strong enough to kill. Otherwise, why the razor wire at the top? More likely, it would be just enough to deter small animals. But it didn’t matter. Bishop couldn’t see how he was going to get in that way. Not without alerting those inside.
Bishop gave the phone back to Kidanu and leaned his head back against the headrest. He checked the dashboard clock and saw it was already 14.58.
‘There are too many obvious deterrents to gain access via the gate or the fence,’ Kidanu said.
‘And possibly a whole lot more we don’t even know about,’ Bishop said. ‘Which only leaves one real option.’
Kidanu nodded. ‘They must come out some time, even if only to get fresh food.’
‘But we’ll need a place to watch from that’s not too obvious.’ Bishop jutted his chin at the training centre sign up ahead. ‘And that might just be the answer.’
He drove on down the empty road until he reached the sign and turned left into the dirt driveway. It curved round to the right, but he couldn’t see any kind of gate barring access. He followed the curve until he reached a large, empty parking area. At the end of it was a modern-looking, one-storey brick building with a blue roof. On the left-hand side was a double garage that looked big enough to hold a couple of fire engines.
‘Perfect,’ Bishop said, turning the car until they were facing the way they’d come. ‘No training classes on a Sunday. I just hope we don’t have to wait around too long, though. If anyone does turn up they’ll wonder just what the hell we’re doing here.’
He pulled to the side of the dirt driveway just before the curve, killed the engine and got out. It was still sunny, but the air was crisp. This far north, you could really feel the approaching winter. Kidanu also got out and stretched his arms.
‘Okay.’ Bishop pointed across the grass, towards the row of trees that concealed them from the road. ‘I’ll find a good vantage point over there and take first watch. You stay here by the car and be ready to move at a second’s notice. I’ll leave the keys in the ignition and wave if I see anybody coming.’
Kidanu nodded in response.
Bishop reached into the brown paper bag on the back seat and pulled out one of the gas station sandwiches they’d picked up on the way, along with a local road map. When in unfamiliar territory, it was always a good idea to familiarize yourself with the lie of the land. He walked across the grass towards the evergreens, found a space between two trees and crouched down. By leaning forward a little, he had a perfect view of the driveway entrance two hundred feet to his right. And with his dark clothes there was a good chance passing drivers wouldn’t notice him.
Assuming anybody drove this route at all, that is. So far, he hadn’t spotted a single vehicle.
Oh, well, nothing to do now but be patient and see what happens. With a mental shrug, Bishop opened the map and began memorizing the immediate area around New Dublin Road for alternative getaway routes. Once that was done, he began concentrating on the areas north and west of his location.
At 15.48, Bishop had just polished off the last of the sandwich when he heard the distant sound of an electronic gate in operation. It was coming from the right. And he’d been waiting less than an hour. Could he be that fortunate? It could be a false alarm, but he still needed to be ready. He stood up and looked behind him. The Infiniti’s driver’s side door was open. Kidanu was sitting in the driver’s seat. Bishop waved his right arm back and forth in a big semicircle.
The driver’s door immediately slammed shut and he heard the engine start up. He turned back to the road and peered right. Eight seconds later, he saw a silver Toyota Camry pause at the head of the driveway, ready to pull out. The left indicator light was flashing. He saw two figures in the front of the car.
Bishop turned and ran back towards the Infiniti.
FIFTY-SEVEN
‘What are you hoping will happen?’ Kidanu asked, watching the road ahead. They were on Highway 29, heading southeast at a leisurely forty miles per hour. There were just two vehicles separating them from the Toyota in front: a black Ford sedan and a red Izusu pick-up. A pleasant Sunday drive.
Bishop pulled the Zeiss spotting scope from his bag and said, ‘That they’ll go somewhere with a large parking lot. Then maybe I can hitch a ride without them knowing.’
‘How?’
‘Let’s take one problem at a time.’
They’d driven for a mile when Bishop saw a crossroads up ahead. The black sedan signalled left and steered into the centre of the road. Kidanu drove on past it. Then it was just the red pick-up between them and the Toyota. Bishop knew if they carried on down this road it would take them into Brockville, a small city with a population of about twenty thousand.
At the next intersection, all three vehicles turned left into Centennial Road. It was a largely featureless thoroughfare, with trees and thick foliage lining both sides. They’d driven for about a mile and a half when Bishop saw a guard rail on the left. The trees thinned out and he saw the beginnings of a large lake going off into the distance. Just past that was a picnic area with a few tables and spaces for vehicles to park. As they passed, Bishop saw a large sign further in that read Broone-Runciman Dam & Reservoir.
They crossed over some train tracks. Soon, they all began to slow. The Toyota’s left-hand indicator started flashing. At the side of the road up ahead, Bishop saw a large handmade sign advertising fresh vegetables. Then an entrance to a large circular driveway, leading to a white farmhouse with several large stalls out front, all overflowing with different-coloured
vegetables. The Toyota angled across the road and turned into the driveway. The red pick-up kept on going. So it was a food run.
‘Should I carry on?’ Kidanu asked.
‘Yeah,’ Bishop said. ‘But slowly.’ As they were passing, he saw the Toyota make a U-turn until it was facing outwards and pointing a little to the right. The passenger side door began to open, and then the car was gone from sight.
Bishop faced front and saw some kind of storage place about a quarter-mile ahead. He pointed and said, ‘Pull in when you get to that and turn us around. Then take us back to that rest area next to the reservoir. When they pass by, we’ll follow.’
‘If they pass by.’
‘The driver left the car pointing in that direction. It’s a gamble, but there’s nowhere else to wait around here.’
At the storage place, Kidanu turned into the entrance, made a K-turn and headed back. As they passed the farmhouse, Bishop saw a man in the Toyota’s driver’s seat slowly combing his hair. Behind the food stalls, a girl in a sweater and jeans was filling a cardboard box. A woman in a raincoat moved down the line, pointing at selected vegetables.
Then they were past it again. As Kidanu turned into the dirt entrance next to the reservoir, Bishop looked the area over. It wasn’t much. Just a small grassy rest area with some tree cover. Bushes and shrubs ran along much of the waterline. There was a wide gravel pathway leading directly to the lake, presumably so people could go and feed the fish.
When Kidanu was facing the road, he backed up a little until they were under the trees. They waited in silence. Bishop just hoped he was right about the Toyota coming back, otherwise they could be waiting a long time.
But the Toyota cruised past three minutes later, heading southwest. Hoping they had a few more errands to run before heading home, Bishop nodded to Kidanu, who pulled out and followed. When he closed the distance a little, Bishop raised the spotting scope and aimed it at the Toyota’s rear window.
