by Jason Dean
‘Is that Lyle Kinney?’ she said a few seconds later. ‘Hi, this is Kate McGowan. Do you remember me from . . . Wow, I’m flattered. Look, I was wondering if you still had the licence numbers for those SUVs Grant Olander conned you out of . . . Yeah, those . . . Well, I might be on to something, it’s too early to tell . . . Sure, I don’t mind. Take your time.’
She covered the mouthpiece. ‘I caught him at his office. He’s just checking for me.’
I bet he is. Bishop had no idea what the guy’s marital status was, but he felt confident Kinney would make a pass before the conversation was through. Call it instinct.
‘Hold on,’ she said a minute later and rummaged through her bag. She pulled out a notebook and pencil and said, ‘Okay, go.’ She wrote down numbers for about a minute and said, ‘That’s great, Lyle. I really appreciate it . . .’ She listened for a moment, then in a quieter voice said, ‘I don’t think I can, Lyle . . . No, that’s okay, but I just don’t think it would be a good idea . . . Exactly right. We all do . . . Okay, bye.’ She ended the call and blew out a breath.
‘Let him down easy, did you?’
She smiled at him. ‘He really should know better. I saw the framed pictures last time I was there. Beautiful wife, nice kids. I just don’t get it. Why do some guys want to risk all that for a few sweaty moments with someone they barely know?’
‘Because men can be stupid. Especially when it comes to attractive women.’
She took a sip of her beer, clearly pleased with the compliment. ‘And what about you, Bishop? Are you ever stupid?’
‘Sometimes. None of us are perfect.’
‘I meant with women.’
‘I know you did.’
Kate smiled at him again. It was a great smile. One with a hint of the devil in there. She took a long slug of her beer, put the bottle down and then slowly slid her way out of her side of the booth. She came round and sat down next to him, close enough for their hips to touch. Despite the task still ahead of him, Bishop found himself enjoying the moment. He was also more than a little curious to see what she’d do next.
‘Believe it or not,’ she said, ‘I can be stupid sometimes, too.’
‘I doubt that.’
‘No? Watch me.’
Then she placed a palm against his cheek and pulled his face down to hers. They kissed. Bishop didn’t know for how long, but when he finally broke away he found he was short of breath. She’d tasted as nice as he’d imagined. He said, ‘Pretty forward, aren’t you?’
Kate shrugged. ‘Grab the moment, I say. How about you?’
Bishop had never been the impulsive type, but in this particular case he was inclined to agree. Except there was still Jenna to consider. And cheating on people he cared about had never been part of his nature. But his attraction towards Kate clearly showed that long-term relationships weren’t part of his nature, either. Pity. But to thine own self be true, as the old Shakespearean quote went. Bishop just hoped Jenna wouldn’t end up resenting him for it when he told her of his decision.
And as for Kate, as much as he liked her, he couldn’t afford to get sidetracked now. Not with Selina’s fate in the balance. It was past nine already. He only had twenty-seven hours to play with. Maybe less. ‘I say, I’ll definitely give it some serious thought. But for now, do you want to show me those plate numbers?’
‘Oh. Sure.’ Kate reached over for her pad. She tore the page out and passed it to him.
Bishop looked at them. As he’d expected, the numbers were sequential. Straight out of the factory. Shouldn’t be too hard to check who the current owners were.
‘You’re a journalist,’ he said. ‘You must know somebody at the DMV, right?’
‘Wrong,’ she said. ‘But it just so happens I’ve got something even better.’
SIXTY
Kate drove them south along Saracen Road for a mile before taking a right into West Tyler Avenue. Bishop noticed a smattering of businesses and stores near the intersection on both sides, while further back it looked to be mostly private residences.
She parked her Subaru Forester outside one of the former, a small, nondescript brick building with an awning outside. Above it a sign read Massingham Computer Sales & Repair. It was dark inside, and the windows and door had shutters over them. Bishop had a feeling they’d entered one of the less desirable sections of town.
They both got out. Kate locked the station wagon’s doors and said, ‘Friendly warning. You need to be careful around Raymond, okay? I’ve known him a long time, but he’s prickly and doesn’t get on with too many people. First thing he’ll do is see how far he can push your buttons. So be cool and for God’s sake don’t call him Raymond.’
‘I’ll try to remember,’ Bishop said.
Kate led him down the side of the building. It was dark and went back quite a way. So far that Bishop thought maybe the place doubled as living quarters for the guy. At the rear were two small, barred windows and a steel door. There was also a spotlight near the roof that illuminated the area, and just under that Bishop noticed a very small surveillance camera behind a grille. Kate rapped her knuckles against the door and they waited.
After about thirty seconds, he heard latches being drawn, locks being turned. The door opened outwards and a medium-sized blond man stood there looking at each of them. Bishop had been picturing an older version of Milhouse off The Simpsons. But this Raymond was about Kate’s age. His short hair was brushed forward and he had a face that wasn’t far off handsome. He wore glasses, though, so Bishop had got that part right.
‘Hey, Lady McG,’ he said, ‘how y’all doin’? Who’s the mouth-breather?’
‘Charming,’ Kate said, ‘and you can drop the southern shit-kicker accent, Raymond. It doesn’t suit you. This is James Bishop. Can we come in?’
‘McG always be welcome here.’ He opened the door further to let them through and locked it behind them. He frowned briefly at Bishop, then led them down a short hallway, past a couple of doors and into a large workroom.
There were computers, laptops, hard drives and parts everywhere. Shelves lined two of the walls, all full to the brim with items Bishop couldn’t even begin to identify. Framed pictures and posters covered most of the other two walls. Books and magazines all over the floor. Raymond cleared one chair of stuff so Kate could sit. Then he took the only other one and rested an elbow on the only clear spot on his desk. ‘Bishop, huh?’
‘That’s right,’ Bishop said.
‘So you known McG here long?’
‘Not long. Just a few hours.’
‘Uh huh. So what’s the deal with you, Bishop? You law or something?’
Bishop smiled. ‘Something.’
Raymond gave him a malicious grin back. ‘Something. You a tough guy, Bishop?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘So if I were to tell you that I don’t like your face, or your attitude, and to get the hell out off my property, what would you do?’
‘Leave, I guess. Why, is that something you’re likely to say?’
‘Raymond . . .’ Kate said in a low tone.
‘Hey, I’m just having a conversation with the man, McG. Don’t sweat it. Besides, you barely know him. He could be anyone. Maybe he’s a closet pantie sniffer. He looks the type. How about it, Jimbo? That the kind of thing that gets you hot?’
Bishop shrugged. ‘Sure, Ray. Whatever you say.’
Raymond’s face immediately went stony. Bishop kept his a blank mask. Nobody spoke for a few moments. Then Raymond adjusted his glasses and smiled slightly with one side of his mouth. ‘Yeah, thought so,’ he said.
‘If I can cut in on your king-of-the-castle act for just a second, Raymond,’ Kate said, ‘we came here hoping you could help us out with something.’
He turned to her and his smile got wider. ‘Hit me, McG.’
‘If only it were that easy.’ She passed over the page from her notebook. ‘We want to know who these vehicles are registered to. Pretty simple stuff, but I told Bish
op you were better than the DMV at this kind of thing.’
He turned to his desk. ‘Not better, exactly,’ he said and started typing on the laptop as he spoke. ‘See, it’s all about who you know in this world, McG. And I happen to know one of the guys who helped design the firewalls for their servers. Met him back when I was still working for the phone company and we stayed in touch ever since. We still do each other favours, swap passwords and back doors, that kind of thing.’
Raymond went quiet and continued typing, occasionally using the touchpad. Oblivious of everything else. Jenna was the same. Bishop had seen her get wired in to the point where he could set off a firecracker next to her ear and she wouldn’t notice.
After a while, Raymond turned to Kate and said, ‘What are you expecting to find, McG?’
‘That they’re all registered to a company called Catalyst Incorporated.’
He turned back to the screen. ‘Well, they used to be. Catalyst sold them all on three years ago. Two went to private buyers, an A. Mendoza in Glendale, and an R. Trevane in Gila Bend. The other two were bought by a company called Distar Associates.’
Kate sighed. ‘There goes that theory, then.’
‘Not necessarily,’ Bishop said. ‘Where’s this Distar company based?’
Raymond leaned in closer. ‘They got an office over in Flagstaff.’
‘Any way of finding out who the owners are?’
‘Sure, you just do a search on the Arizona Secretary of State website.’ Raymond turned to the second laptop and went back to work. After a while he said, ‘Looks like I spoke too soon. I’m getting a big fat nothing.’
Kate turned to Bishop. ‘They didn’t register the business in this state then.’
‘Try a search on the Nevada website,’ Bishop said.
Raymond said, ‘O-o-kay,’ and went to work.
‘Why there?’ Kate asked.
‘Nevada’s a major corporate haven,’ Bishop said. ‘You can get incorporated there even if your company headquarters are in another state, but you’re still protected by their strict disclosure laws. Plus you don’t pay corporate income tax.’
‘I guess you read the right magazines, huh?’
Bishop smiled. ‘I do, but that’s not it. In my old life, I provided personal protection for a lot of rich businessmen, and if there was a legal way to save a buck they’d find it. This was one of the ways.’
‘I knew it. Under the skin of every millionaire beats the heart of a piker.’
‘That’s probably why they stay millionaires.’
‘Bingo,’ Raymond said. ‘We got us a hit.’
‘We’re listening,’ said Kate.
‘Well, the company was registered in Nevada on March 11, three years ago. That’s four months before they bought the vans.’ He made a face. ‘And can you believe this? It’s owned by a John Smith.’
Kate chuckled. ‘You know, that could be his real name. They do exist.’
‘Sure they do,’ Bishop said. But he didn’t think so in this case. He strolled over to a bare patch of wall and leaned his back against it. He was thinking about human nature, and how often even the smartest people often resorted to sentimentality. Even when it was against their best interests. And you didn’t get any more sentimental than family.
He turned to Kate and said, ‘Is Olander married? Does he have kids?’
‘Yeah. He’s still married to his high school sweetheart. She’s not the nicest person you could ever meet, believe me. Got two kids, I think. Both boys and both grown, of course. One’s a corporate lawyer in Phoenix. I don’t know about the other one.’
‘You know their names?’
‘Um. The lawyer’s Peter. The other one’s Patrick. I think.’
Not what he was after. ‘What about the wife?’
‘What about her?’
‘Would her name be Diana, or Diane? Something like that?’
Kate brought her eyebrows together. ‘No, but you’re close. It’s Dionne.’
‘And her middle name. Is it Stephanie? Or maybe Stella?’
Then Kate’s frown turned to a smile as she got it. ‘Hold on a second. Let me check.’
‘Her maiden name, too, while you’re at it.’
She nodded as she pulled her cell from her bag and pressed a number. Waited. Then she said, ‘Hey, Arnie. Yeah, it’s me. Look, you researched that Olander puff piece we did a few years back, right? You wouldn’t happen to remember the wife’s middle name, would you?’ She looked at Bishop, smiled and said, ‘Okay, and what about her maiden name?’ A moment later, she said, ‘Great. I owe you a beer, Arnie. Thanks.’
Bishop said, ‘Stella.’
‘Stephanie,’ she said. ‘Dionne Stephanie. And her maiden name was Arbor. Distar. Pretty cool, Bishop. So Olander sets up another company out of state to remove any annoying trails that might lead back to him. Like the change in ownership of two of Catalyst’s vans. You think he uses these vehicles for his felonious activities?’
Bishop frowned. ‘Possibly. Could be any number of reasons for wanting to hide the ownership.’
Raymond was watching each of them in turn. ‘Okay, which one of you is gonna tell me what the hell’s going on? What felonious activities?’
Kate turned to Bishop with raised eyebrows.
Bishop tapped his head lightly against the wall and tried to think why Kate shouldn’t fill Raymond in. If Neeson knew, why not Raymond? He could be a useful asset in the hours to come if he was kept in the loop.
‘Okay,’ Bishop said, pushing off from the wall. He looked at his watch. 21.34. Getting late. ‘But, Raymond, keep what you hear to yourself, okay? It’s important. Kate will explain why.’
Kate looked at him. ‘You’re going? I thought . . .’ She paused.
‘Sorry, Kate. I have to. I’m up against the clock here.’
‘Well, where are you headed? I can give you a left.’
He walked over to the hallway and shook his head. ‘You stay here and fill Raymond in. It’s only a ten-minute walk back to my car and I need some time to think. I’ll be in touch, though. With both of you.’
Raymond grinned and said, ‘Can’t wait.’
SIXTY-ONE
Bishop got back to his Buick and drove out to the Heritage Apartments. He parked in the same lot as before and stayed in his seat, slowly scanning the area, alert to any kind of movement. The occasional vehicle passed by behind him. Each time he noted its progress in the rear-view until it was out of sight. But other than a pedestrian here and there, he saw nothing that gave him pause. Through the rear gates he could make out that old couple again, still sitting outside their ground floor apartment. Still in the same positions. Maybe they slept there. The old guy certainly looked as though he was out for the count.
He stuck the Sig in his waistband under his T-shirt and got out the car. He walked towards the stairs and the woman looked up from her book and smiled.
‘Hello again,’ she said. ‘Nice night.’
‘Sure is,’ he said and stopped. The husband remained asleep in his chair, snoring slightly. ‘You must see most people coming in or out, right?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Anyone come around here today who didn’t belong?’
She pursed her lips. ‘Well, there was Mr Baynard at No. 12, but I’m not sure he belongs on this planet. Or did you mean somebody new?’
‘That’s what I meant.’
‘In that case, no. Just the same old faces. Why, are you expecting someone?’
Bishop smiled. ‘No, just checking. Thanks.’ He kept walking, took the stairs, and when he reached No. 40 paused outside the door and listened. He heard nothing. Taking the Sig from his waistband, he quickly unlocked the door and pushed it open.
He could immediately sense he was alone in the apartment, but he checked the rooms anyway. Once he was satisfied, he took a quick shower and put on some clean clothes. Black shirt, black pants, black windbreaker. He also took a Brunton pocket scope from his bag and put it in his pocket. He
checked the inner pockets of the bag and smiled when his fingers found the black cotton ski mask and the roll of duct tape. They might come in handy again. Then he picked up his cell and called Vallejo.
She picked up on the fifth ring and said, ‘Hey.’
‘Hey yourself. How you doing?’
‘Not so great. I’m thinking I probably would have been better off staying with you guys and grabbing something to eat. I’m in room No. 17 now, but I’m still looking at the same four walls and thinking of Sam.’
‘In that case,’ Bishop said, ‘I’ve got something that’ll take your mind off her.’
SIXTY-TWO
Vallejo let Bishop drive. If something happened, the Buick was definitely the more expendable vehicle. Bishop was tired of it already. However long he kept the windows open, he could never quite get rid of the musty smell. The manual stick shift kept sticking, too.
After stopping off at a fast-food place so Vallejo could get a take-out, he took them out of town and east onto Highway 60 again. Vallejo had finished her food by the time he came to the sign for Gareth Rhodes Business Park. The clock on the dash said it was 22.19. He pulled in, turned off the headlights and cruised slowly along the paved access road, navigating by moonlight.
The main road went on for about five hundred feet before veering off to the right. Then it straightened out again. To their right was just desert. On the left were various large single-storey warehouses, broken up by smaller roads branching off from this one. By the time he’d reached the end of the main road, he’d counted three in all. And none of the warehouses he’d passed looked like the one Kate had described. There was also nobody else around that Bishop could see.
‘It probably wouldn’t be along this main section, anyway,’ Vallejo said, sipping from a large cup of coffee. ‘Too wide open.’
‘I had to check,’ Bishop said and made a U-turn. ‘Let me have some of that.’
She passed him the cup. He took a few swallows, made a face and handed it back. Vallejo’s sweet tooth was too much for him. He then took a right into the first offshoot road. It descended on a slight gradient and Bishop counted four more warehouses. Two on each side. All protected by perfunctory chain-link fencing and steel gates. Again, nobody in sight. At the end of the road, he made another U-turn and came back.