The Wrong Man

by Jason Dean

  ‘What do you think? Oh, man, you’ve no idea how glad I am you made it out. Life was starting to get monotonous and you’ve already tied up one loose end for me without even being asked.’

  Bishop noticed Mandrake pulling on his headgear. Probably the cops trying to contact them on the two-way from the comms room. He reached over and turned the radio off. Mandrake shrugged and removed his headgear again.

  ‘Hey, what’s that noise in the background?’ Thorpe asked. ‘You making use of Metroblade’s aerial services?’

  ‘Yeah.’ The Hudson was visible in the distance, and beyond that the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline. About three or four minutes before they hit town. ‘The cops conveniently showed up just after I arrived. I got you to thank for that?’

  ‘Uh, uh. Not me, partner. I want you free as that whirlybird for the time being.’

  Bishop nodded to himself. So Art Mandrake had seen through Jenna’s story and notified them somehow, or maybe he’d refused to talk unless she came clean. But then, he couldn’t realistically expect a fed to do anything else. Retired or otherwise. ‘So why kill those people back there?’

  ‘Forget about them. We got business, you and me.’

  Bishop snorted. ‘Not in this life.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Jenna already.’ When Bishop didn’t respond, Thorpe said, ‘I didn’t get what I was after three years ago, Jimmy. This time it’s gonna be different. You’re gonna make sure of it.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’

  ‘Yeah, it is. Now I’m guessing you know what it is I’m searching for by now, right?’

  ‘Some kind of FBI file on the Zodiac killer,’ Bishop said, shaking his head at the thought of all the lives it had cost so far.

  ‘Clever lad.’ Thorpe laughed. ‘Brennan had it. I want it. You’re gonna get it for me. The little lady’s banking on it.’

  ‘You seem pretty sure I’ll risk everything for a woman I’ve only just met,’ he said.

  ‘Well, we did work together for almost five years straight, and you learn a lot about a person after that amount of time. These days, I can pretty much predict how you’ll react to almost any given situation. And the way I figure it, this sweet thing came under your protection the second you started exchanging bodily fluids. It’s one of your weaknesses, Jimmy. People like you can’t change your nature, so don’t even try pretending otherwise. You’ve seen what I’m capable of, so don’t force me to describe the things I’ll do to her if you don’t come through.’

  Bishop saw they were over the Hudson and about to reach the verboten financial district. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand and said to Mandrake, ‘No encroaching on Manhattan airspace, we got enough trouble. Take us around the shore and head for Brooklyn.’ Without waiting for a reply, he took his hand away and said, ‘So how do I find this file?’

  ‘That’s better. I was starting to think I’d have to do something regrettable before you took me seriously. And you don’t need to search for it; I already know where it is. You’re gonna love it.’

  ‘I doubt that. So where is it?’

  ‘In the private offices of your old boss, Morgan Royse.’

  SIXTY

  ‘You still there?’ Thorpe asked when Bishop didn’t immediately reply.

  But Bishop was already thinking of RoyseCorp Tower at East 66th and First. The headquarters of his ex-employers. He’d only been there three times, but he’d seen enough to be impressed.

  ‘You’re talking about one of the most secure private buildings on the island,’ Bishop said.

  ‘It gets better,’ Thorpe said. ‘You’ll find it somewhere on the uppermost level where mere mortals can never set foot. Not even yours truly. In a special vault old Morgan had built up there a while back. What do you think?’

  ‘You don’t want to know. Why me? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no safe-cracker and I’ve got half the country out for my blood.’

  ‘But you are resourceful. Given the right motivation, a man like that can accomplish anything. And I figure the safe return of your woman is just the kind of inducement that works best on you. But just in case I’m wrong, I’ll offer you additional incentive: footage of you three years ago in Brennan’s kitchen. Before, during and after your fight with Cortiss. How’s that sound? Definite proof that you couldn’t have killed the Brennans. Your passport to freedom.’

  ‘Sounds almost too good to be true. Especially coming from you.’

  ‘But you know it is true, don’t you, Jimmy? If you saw the shoeprint, you must have found that broken lens in the smoke detector.’

  ‘I found it.’

  ‘And if you found that one, you know there were others,’ Thorpe said. ‘Now I’ve managed to collect schematics and plans of the RoyseCorp building, including the top floor. And I’ve made plenty of notes of security arrangements throughout the building and other odds and ends. I’ve sent everything to that email address you were kind enough to supply. Now, what else?’

  ‘What’s my time scale? It’ll take me three or four days just to scout the place.’

  ‘You got till midnight tomorrow,’ Thorpe said.

  Bishop almost laughed out loud. He looked at his watch. 19.27. Midnight tomorrow was less than twenty-nine hours away. ‘That’s funny,’ he said. ‘And impossible.’

  ‘Nothing’s impossible. You, of all people, should know that. To be honest, my colleague here has taken a shine to Jenna and I’m not sure I can put off the inevitable any longer than that. Danny’s proclivities are a little . . . off the wall, shall we say? Midnight tomorrow, that file will be in your hands or she won’t be the same person you remember when you get her back. Either physically or mentally. I might even join in if you don’t come through, although I usually prefer them a lot younger. Am I making myself absolutely clear?’

  Bishop watched Mandrake ease them round Battery Park towards Brooklyn. ‘Yes,’ he said.

  ‘That’s the word I like best. Now listen to me. I even smell a cop in my vicinity within the next thirty hours and the deal’s off. I can’t see you tipping them off, but I figure you’re gonna need help with this, so you’ll need to be real careful about who you talk to from now on. Loose lips and your lady friend gets an identity change she didn’t plan on.’

  ‘Put her on,’ Bishop said, ‘or forget it.’

  ‘Why, of course, Jimmy. Just don’t expect riveting conversation.’

  While he was waiting, Bishop covered the mouthpiece again and said, ‘You see an apartment block in Brooklyn with a roof large enough to land on and we’ll part ways.’

  Mandrake nodded once as they passed over Prospect Park, and began to lose altitude.

  ‘James?’

  The voice was slurred, but Bishop knew it was her. ‘Hey, you hang in there, okay?’

  ‘Heybaby,’ she said in a singsong voice. ‘Dopey dope. Doped right up. Poor Art. Sorry. Kyzatoo.’

  Kyzatoo? What was she talking about? ‘You got nothing to be sorry about,’ Bishop said. ‘I’m gonna get you out.’

  ‘See what I mean?’ Thorpe broke in.

  ‘What did you give her?’

  ‘Just one of my special concoctions to keep her out of mischief for a while. Don’t worry about her, partner, focus on the problem at hand. We’ll talk again real soon, though.’

  The line went dead.

  Bishop pocketed the phone and slowly picked up his headset from the floor. He took the time to place the earpieces so they fit precisely over his ears. He made sure there were no gaps. Then he made minute adjustments to the mike so it was positioned an inch away from his mouth. Exactly one inch. As he made the adjustments, he stared ahead at the night lights of New York and thought through the various methods he could use to ease Thorpe’s departure from this world. Because that time was coming. Soon.

  ‘You found us a place to land yet?’

  ‘You’re Bishop,’ Mandrake said. ‘The one on the news.’ When Bishop didn’t reply, he said, ‘That was the man you�
��re after, right? Who is he?’

  Bishop breathed a sigh. ‘If I tell you, you’ll have to tell the police and that puts my friend at risk.’ He turned to face him. ‘Look, I need your help here, Cornell. As far as you’re concerned, I didn’t call anybody on my cell just now and it’d be best if you don’t even mention my friend’s presence when you get back. Cops might check the vehicles parked out front and get her name from that, but that’s out of my control.’

  Mandrake paused, then said, ‘If I don’t tell them, they’ll figure you killed Gregg and Alex, won’t they?’

  Bishop shrugged and said, ‘I’m used to it.’ But Mandrake’s comment raised an important question. Once things slowed down, the cops might realize Bishop didn’t have much in the way of motive to shoot a bunch of strangers. They might start delving deeper into Art Mandrake’s appointments for today and find the mention of another Falstaff more than just coincidence. Again, beyond his control. He could only hope Jenna’s visit hadn’t been logged.

  He pointed down at his left towards a five- or six-storey apartment block with a long flat roof and external fire stairs at the rear. ‘Over there looks good.’

  Mandrake nodded and circled the building as he dropped altitude. As he got nearer, he switched on the landing lights.

  Bishop kept his eyes on the rooftop, which was sprinkled with satellite dishes, but his thoughts were on how close he’d come to getting his hands on the man he’d set out to find. And how little it mattered now that Thorpe had Jenna. His own problems had immediately taken a back seat to the new situation placed before him. Getting Jenna back in one piece was all that counted now. And his increasing feelings for her were only part of the reason why. Mostly, it was because she’d ignored all the evidence against him and believed in him when nobody else would. That was something he’d never forget. So now, since he’d placed her in harm’s way, it was up to him to get her back. It was that simple.

  Thirty seconds later, the skids touched concrete. Bishop took off the headset and unbuckled his belt. He was reaching for the door latch when Mandrake said, ‘What vehicle does she drive?’

  Bishop frowned. ‘Honda Accord. Why?’

  ‘If they ask, I can tell them it’s my girlfriend’s I’m borrowing while mine’s in the shop.’

  A corner of Bishop’s mouth lifted and he said, ‘Thanks. That would help. And I hope your old man’s okay.’ He pushed the door open and stepped out with head lowered. Then he slammed the door shut, nodded once at Mandrake and ran for the stairs.

  SIXTY-ONE

  Martin Thorpe slotted a new SIM card into the phone and flicked the old one out into the busy street. Now that Bishop had contaminated his old business number he no longer had any use for it. He pressed the button that raised the tinted window, concealing them from any curious onlookers as they made their way towards East 3rd Street.

  Not that there would be any. It was a common enough Ford work van he’d purchased almost a year ago. The streets were filled with them. He turned to smile at Danny in the driver’s seat, then swivelled round with his left arm over the back of the seat to watch their guest.

  Jenna was currently sitting cross-legged against the side of the van with her hands bound together in front of her. Rocking her head back and forth. Thorpe had to admit she was very cute. Not really in his age bracket, but he could see why both Bishop and Danny were drawn to her. Not only that, but she had brains, too. Not that you’d know it by looking at her now.

  If somebody had asked him why he’d picked now to grab her he wouldn’t have been able to explain it. It just felt like the right time after Danny’s regular reports had shown just how close Bishop and Jenna were getting to the truth. Far too close, in fact. Sensing they might not get a better opportunity, Thorpe had decided to take the van and meet up with Danny at Metroblade and take Jenna while Bishop was out of the picture. He hadn’t figured on there still being staff around, but he and Danny had been able to dispose of them with a minimum of fuss.

  ‘How we doing back there, Jenna?’ he said. ‘Nice and comfy, are we?’

  Jenna stopped rocking her head and looked up at him with an unfocused expression.

  ‘Won’t do it,’ she said.

  ‘Who? Bishop?’

  She shook her head. ‘Mnothintoim.’

  Thorpe made a clicking sound with his tongue. ‘Now that’s negative,’ he said. ‘You better hope you do mean something to him, Jenna, or it’s never going to get better than this.’

  He gave her a big smile and said, ‘Do you know, there’s an old Buddhist principle that speaks of a limit to the amount of pleasure the physical body can experience. For example, you can gorge yourself on good food for as long as you like, but eventually you’ll feel sick. Or you can screw yourself till you’re blue in the face, but at some point your weenie’ll start aching. It’s a fact of life. Conversely, it states the amount of pain a body can withstand before packing up is practically limitless. Imagine that, Jenna. Limitless.’

  He faced forward, still smiling, and said, ‘Now that’s something to think about, isn’t it?’

  SIXTY-TWO

  ‘Does everything you touch turn to shit, Bishop,’ said Luke Shelton, ‘or did you just decide to save up all that bad karma for the first good woman to cross your path?’

  Bishop let out a long sigh. They really didn’t have time for this.

  They were facing each other in the small living room of Luke’s four-room apartment in Brooklyn’s Loft Street. A widescreen TV showed a movie with the sound turned off. Aleron sat slumped on a faded blue couch. Bishop turned to him, eyebrows raised.

  The muscles in Luke’s jaw tensed. ‘Like you even care, asshole,’ he said. ‘I make one call . . .’

  ‘You won’t call anybody, Luke,’ Aleron said. ‘And I didn’t bring him here for a dick-swinging contest. Jenna’s in trouble. You gonna help or bitch?’

  Bishop saw Luke visibly sag at his friend’s words and almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.

  Aleron hadn’t been too happy to see Bishop when he showed up at his house and explained the situation, but Bishop knew he couldn’t save Jenna and do what was required alone. He needed them both. He also had a strong feeling that Luke was the fifth member of the hacking network Jenna had been talking about before. The one who’d escaped the FBI’s clutches, along with Jenna. Which meant his computer skills were probably on a par with hers. Bishop hated to admit it, but he felt those skills might soon be needed. They didn’t have to like each other. Jenna was all that mattered.

  Bishop sat on the couch next to Aleron and Luke pulled his La-Z-Boy round to face them. He still didn’t look happy, but Bishop guessed that this was just his natural state anyway.

  Aleron said to Bishop, ‘So what we got to do? You make this RoyseCorp building sound like Fort Knox. Why? What are they protecting?’

  ‘Information, mostly,’ Bishop said. ‘You got to realize they’re the largest private security organization in the country, which basically translates as the largest in the world. My old racket, close protection, is only a small part of what they do. Their main bread and butter comes from general combat and law enforcement training at their massive compound in Virginia. And if you get through the course, it’s pretty much guaranteed they’ll find you high-paying work somewhere in the world along with the twenty thousand other contractors on their books. They’re at the top of a very short list when friendly foreign governments need highly trained personnel to keep the peace during times of civil unrest.

  ‘On top of that, Royse has negotiated over twenty billion dollars in federal law enforcement contracts that I know of. And that doesn’t include those black contracts that slip through the cracks.’

  Luke shrugged. ‘So?’

  ‘So they’ve got lots of fingers in lots of pies, with lots of sensitive information picked up along the way. The CIA, for one, would just love to get a crack at the stuff stored on their servers, so you can imagine how other countries might feel. All of which means they take th
eir internal security very seriously.’

  Aleron nodded. ‘And we’ve got to find a way through it to get Thorpe’s file.’

  ‘And we will,’ Bishop said. He just hoped it was true. He turned to Luke. ‘But first, I need to check my emails. Where’s your computer?’

  SIXTY-THREE

  ‘That could be it,’ Bishop said, pointing at the screen. He and Luke were in a converted bedroom, with most of the wall space around them taken up by seventies-era movie posters. He watched as Luke zoomed in on the only unmarked area they’d seen so far on the penthouse level. All the other rooms on the floor plan were named for their purpose and had the symbol of a partly open door inserted into one of the four walls. This one’s central location meant it had no windows and there didn’t seem to be an entrance or exit, either.

  ‘Huh,’ Luke said, inching his face closer to the screen. ‘Unless it’s his secret bowling alley. He’s already got everything else up there. Library, bathroom, gym, steam room, projection room, shooting range. Christ.’ He shook his head and continued scrolling down, stopping at another unmarked box. ‘Hey, what’s this?’

  ‘Elevator bank running through the centre of the building,’ Bishop said. ‘Probably blocked off at the penthouse level years ago.’

  ‘So how does he get to his office? Teleportation?’

  ‘Pilots his own chopper,’ Bishop said. ‘Enters through the roof so he doesn’t have to meet any other human beings along the way. A Howard Hughes for the digital age.’

  ‘Huh, so they’re allowing night-time flights in Manhattan again?’

  Bishop shrugged. ‘Probably safe to assume he bought somebody off and got special dispensation from the city.’

  Luke grunted and closed that file and opened another marked 7. He scrolled all the way down until he reached a dark blue bar that ran across the bottom. ‘Fill me in, Bishop. Every floor plan except the first floor and the penthouse has got a coloured bar like this on it. Floors two to four are purple, five through eight are blue . . .’