The Hunter’s Oath

by Jason Dean

The passenger was in profile, saying something to the driver. It was clearly a woman. She had short hair and looked to be somewhere in her fifties. All he could see of the man was the back of his head. Then he turned to say something back and Bishop saw that he was a lot younger. Maybe late twenties. Bishop lowered the scope to the vehicle itself. The Camry looked like one of the mid-nineties models, which meant it wouldn’t be equipped with the modern anti-theft systems most vehicles had nowadays. Those things were almost impossible to circumvent. Even for professional car thieves. And Bishop was hardly that.

  The lights were green when they reached the end of Centennial Road. The Toyota turned left towards Brockville and Kidanu followed. Two miles later, they’d just passed under the 401 when Bishop saw a large, half-full parking lot coming up on the left. Further back was a large ValuMart with various satellite stores on either side. A tall sign next to the entrance welcomed drivers to the Brockville Shopping Centre. Bishop noticed it was already decorated with holly, although it was still only October. Christmas came earlier with each passing year.

  ‘He is signalling left,’ Kidanu said.

  ‘Good.’

  As soon as there was a gap in the traffic, the Toyota crossed and entered the parking lot. Kidanu waited for his turn while Bishop aimed the scope at the Toyota again. It was heading along one of the central aisles towards the ValuMart. It turned into another aisle and disappeared between two rows of parked cars. Bishop mentally marked the spot.

  Kidanu finally pulled into the entrance and Bishop pointed towards the aisle where he’d last seen their quarry. Kidanu turned into it and slowed the car to a crawl. An empty silver Toyota Camry was parked about thirty feet away on the right, just next to one of the shopping cart corrals. There were plenty of free spaces nearby, including the bay on its immediate left. Bishop looked around and saw the backs of the woman and the driver as they walked towards the store.

  Kidanu turned into the bay next to the Toyota and switched off the engine.

  Bishop rolled down his window and took a good look at the other car’s interior. He noted the placement of the inner door handle on the other side. It was in the locked position. He saw a cardboard box filled with vegetables on the rear seat, then focused his attention on the outer seal on the Camry’s doorframe, picking out the best spot for what he had in mind. He placed the scope back in the knapsack and rooted around until he found the thin metal pry bar he’d used on the embassy window in DC.

  ‘What is that for?’ Kidanu asked.

  ‘To make a gap between the seal and the doorframe. Then I simply insert a wire coat hanger in the space and open the door latch from the inside.’

  ‘And do you have a wire coat hanger?’

  ‘No, but ValuMart’s bound to sell them.’ Bishop opened the door and said, ‘Wait here. I won’t be long.’

  Kidanu cleared his throat. ‘Maybe the door is already unlocked.’

  Bishop looked at Kidanu for a moment. Then he got out of the car and stared at the Toyota. The man had a point. Bishop already knew the passenger side door was locked, but that didn’t automatically mean the other one was. This was Canada, after all.

  He reached down with his free hand and grasped the driver’s door handle. Then he gently pulled it upwards. The door clicked open.

  ‘Well, how about that,’ Bishop said softly. He turned and saw Kidanu watching him. ‘I guess I’m just used to living in a country where everybody always locks their vehicles.’

  Kidanu shrugged. ‘I thought it might be worth checking.’

  Bishop opened the door all the way and reached down for the trunk release lever on the floor. He pulled it upwards and heard the rear hatch unlatch itself. Closing the door again, he went back and opened the lid all the way. Inside, it was empty except for a tyre jack and a plastic tool bag in one corner. The spare tyre would be under the false floor. He calculated the available trunk space to be about fifteen cubic feet. Maybe less.

  ‘That’s a tight squeeze,’ Bishop said.

  Kidanu nodded. ‘Better you than I.’

  Bishop sighed and rubbed a palm across his scalp. ‘God, I really hate small spaces.’

  ‘I sympathize. You realize they will probably want to place their purchases in the trunk on their return?’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to persuade them to use the back seat instead.’

  ‘And if they do not?’

  ‘Then I’ll be in real trouble.’

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  ‘They are returning,’ Kidanu said. His deep voice sounded tinny through the hands-free earpiece. ‘The woman is pushing a shopping cart with many bags inside.’

  ‘Right,’ Bishop said, and shifted position again.

  He’d been waiting for over forty minutes and felt about as uncomfortable as a person could get. It wasn’t claustrophobia exactly. Or maybe it was a mild form. No panic attacks, but he was finding it a constant struggle to keep his breathing level. The faint aromas of old engine oil and gasoline didn’t help, either. But he needed to check out the ‘farm’, and this was the only way inside. He’d just have to bear it for a little longer, that’s all. He’d put up with worse.

  Kidanu said, ‘The man is approaching the trunk.’

  Bishop heard the man’s footsteps getting louder and grabbed the lid latch with both hands. He was wearing the gloves he’d bought in New York. He heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock, inches from his face, and pulled with everything he had as the latch turned one way and then the other. Then he felt the man attempt to manually lift the trunk lid. Bishop hung on for a few long seconds until the tension went away.

  ‘Goddammit,’ a muffled male voice said. ‘The stupid thing’s stuck.’

  ‘Try pulling down the rear seats.’ A distant female voice.

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ the man said. The key was removed. A few seconds later, Bishop heard the man unlock the Toyota’s door.

  He slowly turned his head and shone his Maglite at the rear seatbacks. In the middle of each was a security lever to prevent anybody from accessing the trunk that way. They were both still in their locked positions. He switched the light off again.

  He felt the man grunting with the effort of trying to force the seats forward, but they didn’t move a millimetre. Soon the man gave up and said, ‘They’re not budging either. Just stick everything in the back here. I’ll fix the trunk once we get back to the farm.’

  ‘It worked,’ Bishop whispered into the mic. ‘Keep me updated once we move off, okay?’

  ‘Understood.’

  Then came the sounds of bags being loaded into the back. A minute later, the Toyota’s engine started up and the vehicle began to move. Bishop waited for the sound of voices, but the two up front clearly didn’t have much to say to each other.

  Eighty seconds later, Kidanu said, ‘We are heading back the way we came.’

  Bishop said nothing.

  Then there was nothing to hear but the smooth running of the engine, combined with the soothing sound of tyres on asphalt. The smell of gasoline was a lot stronger when the car was moving, forcing Bishop to breathe through his mouth.

  About five minutes later, Kidanu said, ‘We are back on New Dublin Road. I overtook and got here first, as you suggested. I can see you in the distance behind me.’

  Bishop remained silent. He knew Kidanu would park in the same place as before so he could act as Bishop’s eyes.

  It was just over a minute before Bishop felt the vehicle slow and make a turn. He heard the sound of tyres moving along a dirt road, and the ride became a lot bumpier. He pressed both hands against the chassis to steady himself. Then the Toyota came to a stop. One of the front doors opened and he heard footsteps moving away.

  Kidanu said, ‘You are parked just before the gate now. The man is approaching the stone pillar on the left. He is flipping open a tan-coloured box attached to the pillar and I see a black keypad inside. Wait . . .’ There was a short pause, and then, ‘Seven . . . nine . . . two . . . eight . . .’ Another
pause. ‘His hand blocked the last number, but it was on the first row. So either one, two or three.’

  Bishop smiled. First rule when infiltrating an enemy camp is always make sure you have a way out again. And now Bishop had one. Assuming the exit code was the same as the entry one, of course. But in Bishop’s experience, people generally preferred to keep things simple when it came to codes.

  The next thing he heard was an electronic hum that could only mean the gate was opening, followed by the slamming of the car door. They began to move again.

  ‘You are heading towards that barn-type structure to the left of the farmhouse,’ Kidanu said. ‘The double doors are open.’

  Soon the vehicle came to a complete stop. Once the engine died, both front doors opened at the same time. They were slammed shut, one after the other, and then the rear doors were opened. He heard the rustle of grocery bags being lifted from the seat, followed by the crunching sounds of footsteps walking away from the vehicle. Bishop whispered into the mic, ‘Who’s carrying the bags inside?’

  ‘Both are. And I see nobody else in the vicinity. You should be clear.’

  ‘Understood,’ he said, removing the earpiece.

  There was no time to waste. Bishop switched the Maglite back on, shifted position so he was facing the driver’s side, and pulled up part of the carpet he’d loosened earlier. Running along the steel chassis was a long, thin cable that led to the trunk release lever under the front seat. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled. There was a sharp, metallic click as the trunk’s lock disengaged.

  Bishop replaced the carpet over the cable and pushed the trunk lid all the way up. The car was facing into the barn. He saw daylight coming in through the wide open double doors in front of him and took a deep breath. Fresh air had never tasted so good.

  He heard the sound of a house door being slammed open.

  Bishop had three or four seconds at most. He didn’t waste them. Jumping out, he checked he hadn’t left anything inside, then gently closed the trunk lid until it clicked shut.

  There were three other vehicles in the barn in addition to the Toyota. The rest was just empty space. Light was also coming in from two small windows on the upper level at the rear, which must once have been a hayloft. No bales of hay in evidence, just a lot of cardboard boxes lying around. And about thirty feet away to the left, in semi-darkness, Bishop saw a wooden staircase leading upwards. He ran for that and took the stairs three at a time.

  He ducked down when he heard the crunch of footsteps and then the driver returned. He was looking at the trunk while tapping a couple of screwdrivers against his palm. With a melodramatic sigh, he pulled his keys from his pocket and inserted one into the lock. The lid opened immediately and the guy emitted a surprised bark of laughter.

  The woman came back at that point and quietly took the last two bags from the back seat. She closed the door, said something to the driver and left. The driver, still shaking his head, closed the trunk and tried the key on it again. It opened just like before. Dropping the lid again, he pocketed the keys and walked out of the barn, closing the double doors behind him. Bishop didn’t hear any sounds to suggest they were being locked. The only light now came from the windows in the hayloft.

  Bishop moved over to the one overlooking the farmhouse. From this position, he could see most of the back of the house. There was a door at the near corner and another one at the other end. The driver walked over to the closest door, opened it and disappeared inside. The door slammed shut behind him. Probably one of those with self-closing hinges. He’d have to watch out for that.

  The building at the other end of the walkway was also a one-storey job, but with no visible windows. The walkway itself was just a strip of concrete, with wooden posts every few yards to support the flat wooden roof running the length of the path. Still looking through the window, Bishop pulled out his cell phone and called Kidanu.

  ‘I’m in the hayloft,’ he said checking his watch. It was 17.32. ‘Think I’ll wait until 0200 hours before looking around.’

  ‘Understood,’ Kidanu said. ‘I have good cover here, both from the road and from the house. I will watch through the scope for as long as there is daylight.’

  ‘Right,’ Bishop said, and ended the call.

  He kept his face glued to the window. Waiting.

  At 18.05, he saw a man wearing a dark hunting jacket and a baseball cap exit the nearside door, letting it slam behind him. It wasn’t the driver. And it obviously wasn’t Klyce. This guy was bigger in the shoulders, and tall. Bishop watched him walk slowly along the farmhouse wall towards the other building, arms at his sides. He crossed the space and continued walking along the wall of the annexe until he turned a corner and disappeared from view. Ninety-two seconds later, he appeared again and remained in Bishop’s view until he reached the farmhouse. It looked as though it was a routine patrol. But how routine? And how regular?

  When the man reached the back door again, Bishop checked his watch and saw it had taken him just under four minutes to complete his circuit of the buildings. Then the man passed by the door and continued along the same route for another go-round.

  Bishop went over to the nearest cardboard box and slid it along the floor to the window. He sat down and watched the man walking away. It was going to be a long night.

  FIFTY-NINE

  When Bishop woke up, he immediately checked his watch. It was 01.56. Only four minutes out. Not bad.

  He stretched and arched his back as he got up from his improvised seat. The evening had gone slowly. The perimeter guard had kept up his routine until 21.06 before going back inside. Nobody had come out to take his place. Before that, the only noteworthy event had been a third man exiting through the other rear door at 19.02. Again, it hadn’t been Klyce. This man was short and stocky, and carried a large serving tray weighed down with covered dishes. He took it down the walkway, unlocked a door in the annexe and disappeared inside. Two minutes later he backed out empty-handed, locked the door and returned to the farmhouse.

  So the second building was clearly home to somebody important enough to have his, or her, meals taken to them. But important in what way? Were they a prisoner, or were they here willingly? Was it Klyce in there? And if not, in what way was he involved? And how did this all link back to Amy? These were questions Bishop intended to answer before leaving this place.

  At 21.45, when nothing further had happened, Bishop had decided to get some shuteye while he could. ‘Sleep whenever possible,’ was a mantra the instructors had drilled into him in basic training back in the Corps. Wise advice that Bishop had never forgotten.

  Now he looked out the window again. There was a quarter moon in the sky and no cloud cover. All was still. About the only sound he could make out was a distant owl calling to its mate. Which reminded him. He picked up his cell and called Kidanu.

  ‘What is the time?’ Kidanu asked in a groggy voice.

  ‘Almost two. I’m about to take a look around. Keep your eyes open in case I need you for any reason, okay?’

  ‘Understood,’ Kidanu said, and ended the call.

  Bishop pocketed the phone and descended the staircase. He’d told Bekele he’d preferred working alone, but he couldn’t deny it was good to have back-up in certain situations. That Kidanu didn’t talk much was a bonus he hadn’t counted on. He was actually starting to like the guy.

  Bishop made his way over to the double doors. He’d checked the vehicles already and found them all unlocked, although he hadn’t found any keys. In addition to the Toyota, there was a Ford Taurus, an Oldsmobile Alero, and a Chevy Lumina.

  He placed a palm against the left-hand barn door and pushed a little. It gave. He pushed some more and the door opened a few inches. They clearly didn’t believe in locks in this compound, which suggested they were putting all their faith in whatever external security systems they’d set up. Good when it came to keeping people out. Not so good if there was somebody already inside. But Bishop told himself to assume nothin
g, tread carefully and not get over-confident. No telling what was waiting for him in this place.

  He slipped through the gap and looked in all directions. There was no movement anywhere. And no sounds. Even the distant owl had given up his cry for the time being.

  Bishop worked his way along the front of the barn and peered round the corner. Seeing nothing, he crossed over to the side of the farmhouse and followed it to the end. When he reached the back door the driver had used, he noticed a window a few feet along and peered inside. In the faint moonlight, he could make out a sink against one wall, while further in he saw a large wooden table with a few chairs around it. So this was the kitchen.

  He went back to the door and turned the handle. As he’d hoped, it wasn’t locked. Wary of creaks, he took the strain off the hinges by lifting the door slightly as he pulled it open. But there were no sounds. The hinges were clearly well oiled. When he had a wide enough gap, he slipped into the kitchen and carefully closed the door behind him.

  It didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His night vision was already at full capacity. It was a large kitchen area, and the table’s presence in the centre of the room meant it probably doubled as a dining area, too. There was another window at the other end, overlooking the long driveway, and a key rack on the wall near the door he had come through.

  He could hear sounds coming from an open doorway to the left, and see a very faint light source. It sounded like canned laughter. Possibly the night guard watching TV, but he needed to know for sure. Moving on the balls of his feet, Bishop walked across the hardwood floor towards the doorway. Peering round, he saw a wide hallway with two doors on the left and three on the right. At the end was another hallway running at right angles to this one. The third door on the right was partially open. That’s where the light was coming from. Just a sliver, but enough to see by.

  Breathing through his mouth, Bishop entered the corridor and slowly made for the light, pausing for a second after each step.