The Hunter’s Oath

by Jason Dean

  He couldn’t leave the body here, though. That was clear. As soon as Klyce, wherever he might be, heard of a dead man on the premises it wouldn’t take too much guesswork to figure out Bishop had something to do with it. Which would be totally counter-productive at this point. Or at any point, in fact. So, what, then? Even if he had the tools, burying the body would take too long. And if the night guard decided to do another patrol of the perimeter at any point, it would be all over.

  Which left taking the body with him and disposing of it outside. And if he could make it look as though the man had left of his own accord and departed for destinations unknown, so much the better. Bishop took a few moments to think each step through, and decided it could be done. He even knew where to get rid of the body.

  Bishop checked his watch. 03.14. Still a few hours left before sunrise. More than enough. But first things first.

  He folded and pocketed the sheet with the prints. Then he reached down and hefted the body over his shoulder and took it into the bedroom and dropped it down on the bed. He removed every piece of clothing from the cupboard and laid them on the bed along with the empty suitcase. From the bathroom, he added the guy’s toothbrush and razor. The rest he left. Then he squeezed everything into the suitcase except for one of the tracksuits. This he used to dress the body.

  Once that was done, he pulled out his cell phone and took a photo of the guy’s face. He stood up and checked the shot. The guy didn’t actually look dead in the picture, more like he was drugged up to the eyeballs. That was good. It would actually help explain how Bishop was able to take the picture without the guy knowing.

  Pocketing the phone, he took the suitcase to the hallway through which he’d entered, then opened the steel door and peered out. Still quiet, with no sign of movement anywhere. Suitcase in hand, he walked past the farmhouse towards the barn. He reached it without incident and went straight for the Toyota Camry, since he knew it had been used recently and would start without a problem. He opened the front door, disabled the interior light and placed the suitcase on the back seat.

  Then it was back to the annexe for the body. After a final check to make sure he’d erased all traces of his presence, Bishop carried the dead man over his shoulder and out the front door, remembering to lock it behind him. Then back to the barn. Opening the rear door of the Toyota, he placed the body on the floor between the front and back seats, then ran back to the farmhouse kitchen. He carefully opened the rear door and listened. There were no noises from the TV any more. Bishop didn’t know if that was good or bad. He stepped inside anyway. It wasn’t as though he had a choice.

  He crept over to the spot where he’d seen the key rack and got his Maglite out. Smothering most of the lens with two fingers, he clicked it on. Only three of the key ring fobs had logos on them. But one of the logos was the familiar oval badge with two more ovals set within. He lifted that set off the hook, switched off the light and returned to the barn.

  Inside the car, he inserted the key in the ignition and turned it clockwise. The engine caught almost immediately and began purring like a cat. Excellent. He turned it off again and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

  Kidanu picked up immediately. ‘Everything is all right?’

  ‘Everything is not all right,’ Bishop said. ‘I’m gonna have to leave this place in a hurry, but don’t follow me. For a number of reasons, I need them to think I’m alone. Give me a minute’s head start, then meet me out by that rest area next to the reservoir.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Bishop ended the call and pocketed the phone. He was just about to step out of the car and open the barn doors when he heard a noise he recognized.

  The sound of the kitchen door slamming.

  SIXTY-TWO

  Bishop very slowly pulled the driver’s door until it clicked shut. The night guard making another patrol, or something else? Maybe he’d heard the engine start up. If he’d turned off the TV it was possible. Or maybe he’d gone to make a sandwich and seen three sets of keys on the wall rack where there should have been four. Either scenario was bad news.

  Bishop looked in the rear-view mirror and grimaced when he saw a sliver of the night sky back there. He’d left the left-hand barn door partly ajar when he’d come back in. Only by a foot, but it might as well have been ten. Unless the guy was blind, he was bound to notice it. All Bishop could do was wait and see.

  With his eyes glued to the rear-view, Bishop began to count the seconds. He’d reached sixteen when he saw the gap behind him start to widen. Then the barn door was pulled all the way open. A human-shaped silhouette appeared in the gap and a flashlight came on. Bishop lowered his head and turned a little to the right. The light was pointing towards the Oldsmobile two cars down. The light played over the vehicle for three or four seconds before moving to the Chevy next door. That told Bishop the guard hadn’t checked the key rack. If he had, he wouldn’t be bothering with the other vehicles.

  It gave Bishop a little room, but not much. Another couple of seconds and he’d shine the light on the Toyota, and maybe see the body in the back. And Bishop couldn’t afford that.

  Time to leave. Now.

  Bishop released the handbrake, took a deep breath and turned the ignition key clockwise. The engine caught. He sat up, shifted the gear stick into reverse and pressed down hard on the gas. The noise of the revs reverberated throughout the enclosed space and the rear tyres screeched against the dirt as the Toyota took off, its speed increasing with every second. Bishop steered using the rear-view only, making sure that gap stayed dead centre in the little rectangle. He saw the human shape grow larger in the mirror before jumping out of the way. He heard the side of the barn door scraping harshly against the vehicle’s passenger side. Then he was out.

  He kept his foot pressed to the floor as the barn receded. The moment the speedometer needle hit thirty-five, Bishop yanked the wheel left and hit the brakes. The rear tyres fought for traction in the dirt while the front end immediately started sliding round to the right. Bishop jammed the stick into Neutral and held the wheel steady as the vehicle went through its 180-degree spin. He was almost facing the front gate when he put the gearstick into Drive, released the brakes and stamped on the accelerator. The rear end began to fishtail to the right and he fought against the steering wheel to pull it back. Then he just went all out towards the gate a hundred yards away.

  Good to know the tactical driving techniques he’d mastered back in his close protection days hadn’t entirely gone to waste. He kept the pedal pressed to the floor and concentrated on the two stone pillars on either side of the gate.

  Seconds later, he skidded to a stop six feet from the barrier. Leaving the engine running, he jumped out of the car and ran towards the left-hand pillar. There was a steel box attached to the post on this side. He flipped it open and saw the brother of the black keypad Kidanu had described. Recalling the numbers he’d given him, he pressed 7, 9, 2, 8, and 1.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried 7-9-2-8-2.

  There was a whirring sound and the double gate began to open towards him. He ran back to the car and got in. As soon as there was a wide enough gap, he stepped on the gas and speeded through. He reached the end of the driveway and hung a left into New Dublin Road without stopping. Switching on the headlights, he increased the speed. Fifty. Sixty. Seventy.

  He was alone in the world. The only lights on the road were his. When he reached the intersection for Highway 29, it was the same. No traffic anywhere. He kept on, keeping his speed above sixty. He only met one other vehicle during the whole journey. A pick-up at the traffic lights for Centennial Road, heading the other way.

  Then Bishop was passing the reservoir on Centennial. He spotted the turnoff for the picnic area just up ahead, reduced his speed and swung a left into the entrance. He turned off his lights, aimed the car towards the trees, and drove slowly along the gravel pathway that led directly to the lake. He stopped about fifteen feet before the water, set the handbrake
and got out of the car.

  He opened the rear door, lifted out the dead man and placed him in the driver’s seat. Using the master switch on the driver’s door, he lowered the passenger window and the two in the rear so there was a two-inch gap at the top of each. The driver’s window he lowered all the way. After securing the man’s safety belt, Bishop leaned in, placed a foot on the brake pedal and moved the gearstick into the Drive position. He pulled his foot off the pedal and the vehicle immediately began trying to inch forward, with only the handbrake holding it in check.

  Bishop slammed the driver’s door shut. The dead man stared straight ahead at the water. Bishop reached past him through the window and released the handbrake. He pulled himself back out of the way as the car suddenly sprang forward, picking up speed as it approached the lake. The front tyres splashed into the water, followed by the rest of the vehicle. The Toyota dipped at a thirty-degree angle and he watched it slowly sink. Soon the only signs of its existence were a few bubbles popping on the surface of the lake. Within seconds, they were gone, too.

  Shame it had to end this way, pal, he thought. But you won’t be the first man I buried whose identity was a mystery to me.

  Although maybe that would change in this instance. He didn’t know yet.

  Bishop turned away and began walking back to the roadside. It was only a temporary solution anyway. Unless the reservoir was bottomless the vehicle would be discovered before too long. But just a couple more days would be enough for Bishop’s purposes. Once Amy was out of danger it didn’t matter who found him. But right now her continued safety overrode all other considerations.

  He reached the empty road, rubbed a hand over his face and looked down at his watch. 04.09.

  At 04.12, he saw headlights approaching from the southwest. He remained under the cover of some trees until he was sure it was the Infiniti. The vehicle came to a stop a few feet away. He saw Kidanu sitting behind the wheel, calmly watching him. Bishop walked round and got in the passenger side.

  Kidanu turned to him as he shut the door and said, ‘A car speeded out of the grounds approximately seventy seconds after you.’

  ‘I never even saw him,’ Bishop said. ‘Okay, let’s turn this thing round and get out of here.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘The border.’

  SIXTY-THREE

  Once they were through the checkpoint and back on US soil, Bishop breathed a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe that sense of security of being back on home turf again. Purely psychological, of course. But he couldn’t help how he felt.

  He’d spent the short journey to the border filling Kidanu in on what he’d found in the annexe, leaving nothing out. Including the fight and its aftermath.

  Kidanu, now driving them southwards on the I-81, said, ‘The man’s death was accidental. You did not plan it to end that way.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But something about it still bothers you?’

  Bishop stared out the window and said nothing. There were lots of things still bothering him. As a soldier, Bishop had killed more than his fair share of nameless men, but that had been different. The uniform had made it different. But this death had just been stupid. Unnecessary. Or maybe he simply wasn’t the man he used to be.

  He shook his head. Back to the self-recrimination again. Futile and pointless.

  Mainly, what was bugging him was that he’d come here for answers and he hadn’t gotten them. Or Klyce. Of course, there had only been a slim chance of his being at the farm, but Bishop had still been hoping he’d find him there.

  And Amy’s continued safety was still in doubt. That’s what bothered him most.

  Kidanu cut into his thoughts. ‘So that windowless room you saw seems to point towards some kind of counterfeiting operation, does it not?’

  ‘Well, the beginnings of one, at least,’ Bishop said. ‘Except I don’t know yet if it’s connected with Amy at all. And if it’s not, then I don’t care.’ He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the dead man’s face once more, wondering again what he might have been doing at the farm.

  Kidanu stayed silent and just drove. Bishop looked out the window at the scenery passing by. Not seeing it. Just thinking.

  After a few moments, he said, ‘The dead guy might have been a Serb.’

  ‘A Serbian war criminal, you mean?’

  ‘It’s possible. Klyce let slip to me that Amy had recently been working on a case concerning Bosnian war criminals. So maybe this guy was one of them. I never heard him speak, but he had the right look. It could be that Klyce found him through Amy’s research and then discovered he was a counterfeiting specialist too. So he simply made the guy an offer he couldn’t refuse.’

  ‘You mean Klyce simply saw this as another business opportunity?’

  ‘Why not? We know he doesn’t care how the money comes in, just as long as it keeps coming in. And counterfeiting can be extremely profitable if you’ve got the right equipment and the right people overseeing it. They already have the paper and ink for the job. Maybe this guy was just waiting for the delivery of the intaglio printer, which probably takes time. They’re not easy to find. But once they get that, Klyce has got himself a brand new licence to print money. So maybe Amy found out about that part of it and Klyce somehow got wind of it and decided to take care of her.’

  ‘By arranging the attack on her in the park?’

  ‘Right.’ And just the thought of it made Bishop angry all over again. Which was no good for rational thinking. He took a moment to breathe deeply and calm himself down.

  Kidanu said, ‘But what is the significance of that medical services invoice from last December?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Plastic surgery for the dead guy, maybe? Assuming he was an international fugitive. That could also account for the room I saw, and that bill from EMC-Med Associates.’

  ‘And the twenty-three names on the CD?’

  Bishop exhaled loudly. ‘That’s where the theory kind of falls down. Maybe they’re not even a part of this. Not everything we come across has to be connected.’

  ‘You mean your Hollywood movies have been lying to us all this time?’

  ‘Depends on the movie,’ Bishop said. Then there was Gerry, whose recent behaviour still puzzled him. What did he have to do with it? He decided to try his cell phone again. They needed to arrange a time to meet and talk. Because Bishop was going to get some answers today, one way or another.

  He tried the number and waited. And waited. But there was nobody answering.

  Bishop hung up and sighed. Brilliant. Either I can’t get rid of the guy, or I can’t get hold of him. No middle ground.

  But there was something else swirling around Bishop’s brain that was still bothering him. Something to do with Gerry. What was it, though? He closed his eyes and thought back.

  After about a minute, it came to him. Gerry’s cell phone. That was it. Back at the apartment, Lisa had used her dad’s phone to key in a number that turned out to be Klyce’s office line. But when Bishop had taken the phone from her, instead of a number on the display there had been a name. Just a flash, not long enough to make it out clearly, but Bishop was sure it hadn’t been Roger Klyce. He would have remembered seeing that. That meant not only did Gerry have Klyce’s number in his regular contacts list, but he had it under an alias. Which indicated that, for whatever reason, Gerry was keeping his association with Amy’s boss a secret from everybody.

  Bishop very much wanted to know that reason. And sooner rather than later.

  He tried Muro’s number. It was picked up after only two rings.

  ‘Good morning,’ the private detective said.

  ‘If you say so. How’s Amy?’

  ‘Well, she’s still unresponsive, but she’s no worse.’

  ‘Well, that’s something, I guess. Any sign of her husband since we last talked?’

  ‘Yeah, I saw him yesterday.’

  That got Bishop’s attention. ‘Really? At the hospital? When?
’

  ‘Mid-afternoon. About three, I guess. He just came in and whispered some stuff to Amy for a few minutes and left. He barely looked my way the whole time. I don’t think he likes me.’

  ‘Join the club. Look, if you see him again, call me immediately, okay? I really need to talk to him and he’s not answering his phone.’

  ‘Sure, no problem. Anything else?’

  ‘Not right now, thanks,’ he said, and ended the call.

  So Gerry was purposely avoiding him for some reason. That was interesting. Once he got back to the city, he was going to make finding Gerry his number one priority. He’d had enough of being screwed around by that guy.

  ‘No change with your sister?’ Kidanu asked.

  ‘Still the same.’ Bishop checked the dash clock and saw it was just after five a.m. He closed his eyes and decided to try and get a couple of hours’ shuteye.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  Bishop was woken by the vibration of the cell phone in his pocket. The dashboard clock said it was 07.22. He pulled out the phone and saw Arquette’s number on the display. He pondered for a couple of seconds on whether to answer it.

  Red or green? Red or green?

  He finally pressed the green button, and said, ‘I was asleep.’

  ‘Sorry, but I’ve been on yet another all-nighter,’ Arquette’s voice said. ‘Sometimes it’s easy to lose track of other people’s sleep habits. I was just curious to see if you’ve made any progress.’

  Bishop paused and thought about what to say. Or more accurately, what not to. Was there any benefit in giving Arquette anything at all? What could Bishop get out of sharing information with him? His instinct was to tell him nothing, but those files on Amy’s CD still held unanswered questions. Maybe Arquette could come up with some answers. Maybe find a connection that he and Kidanu had missed. Having an extra brain on board might speed things along. Anything that would aid him in his quest to find those responsible for Amy’s assault was worth trying.