The Outsider (James Bishop 4)

by Dean, Jason

  Swallowing her misgivings, Delaney motioned to Lomax and Hammond, who both nodded back. Lomax, the larger of the two, went out first. There were three lawn chairs stacked up against the left-hand fence and he brought one over and set it down five feet from the rear doors. Then he came back and stood by the door, waiting.

  ‘I don’t like that low fence back there,’ Delaney said, ‘so do your smoking sitting down, okay? I’ll give you ten minutes to finish your smoke and then you get back in here.’

  Strickland nodded and stepped outside with Reiseker and Hammond on either side of him. Then he just stood there for a moment, breathing in like a man just released from prison. ‘Man, air never tasted so good,’ he said, raising the cigar to his lips.

  Delaney strode over to him and hissed, ‘Sit down, I said.’

  She was in the act of placing a hand on his left shoulder when Strickland’s head suddenly snapped round violently to the left and a sharp crack echoed through the air.

  Delaney had just enough time to see a blood-red dot appear on Strickland’s left temple before he dropped to the ground like wet cardboard.

  FIVE

  The shooter watched from his hiding place as the four deputies moved in a blur of motion around the fallen target. He smiled. His patience had been rewarded. As he knew it would be. Almost thirty hours in this same spot, but it had been worth it. He knew there would be at least one opportunity, however minimal, but that’s all he needed. All he’d ever needed.

  He watched the woman immediately dive to the ground and cover the victim with her body. The others had already pulled their pieces and were scanning their designated areas like they’d been trained. The one with the thermal scope kept the device at his eye and swept the desert again, frantically searching for him.

  Yeah, good luck with that, the shooter thought.

  He was currently in a shallow trench of seven feet by three feet, about three hundred yards away from the rear fence. It had taken twenty minutes of intensive digging the night before last. Then he’d placed his equipment, rations and water supplies in there, laid himself down and carefully covered himself in the thick foil thermal sheet he’d brought along. He’d taken great care to camouflage it so it would be indistinguishable from the rest of the desert. At least when seen from a distance.

  The marshals were very disciplined in their movements. Calm and collected. None of them panicked. The second man was covering the west side, while the other took the east. Impressive. They’d obviously gone through enough drills to ensure every movement counted. For all the good it would do them.

  Three seconds had passed already.

  The shooter slowly brought his left hand away from the trigger and, without looking, slid it along the dirt to the cell phone he knew was there. He felt along the keypad and pressed a single button and waited. In his earpiece, he heard the familiar ringing tone begin.

  Through the rifle’s viewfinder, he watched the magnified face of the woman as she frantically gave orders to her people. He saw her look down at the principal under her as she talked. Then she frowned and said something else. Looked like she was shouting. She got to her knees and pulled the principal onto his back. The shooter noticed the principal’s hands seemed to be moving. The female deputy reached into her inside jacket pocket and pulled out a cell phone. She looked at the screen before bringing it to her ear, looking in every direction.

  ‘Who’s this?’ she said into his earpiece.

  ‘The guy who just took out your witness,’ Bishop said. ‘I think I just found one of those weak spots you talked about.’

  SIX

  Bishop slowly got to his knees and let the thermal blanket slide off his back. He felt like he’d aged twenty years overnight. His leg muscles were almost totally numb, which wasn’t too surprising after spending over thirty hours in one position.

  He slowly arched his back muscles, then raised his hands and clasped them behind his head. And kept them there. He sat with his legs folded under him. Pointless trying to stand. It would be a few more minutes before the blood started circulating down there again. Besides, it was safer this way. Two of the deputies were sprinting towards him, handguns at the ready. About fifty feet away and closing. One was shouting, ‘Down on your stomach. On your stomach. Do it NOW.’

  The guy’s voice sounded a little shaky, which was understandable under the circumstances. So Bishop carefully lowered himself onto his stomach again. When they reached him, the one who’d been yelling pressed his gun barrel hard against the back of Bishop’s head and said, ‘Don’t move.’

  Bishop wasn’t sure he could even if he wanted to. His hands were pulled behind his back and cuffed. There were pretty rough about it, but that was okay. Bishop understood. They’d just been made to look bad and needed to assert their authority again.

  After giving a complete body search, they pulled him to his feet and silently marched him back to the house, keeping him upright whenever he stumbled. Which was often. Delaney was waiting by a door-sized gap in the fence and shaking her head. She looked as angry as her colleagues. Bishop didn’t blame her. Nobody liked being made a fool of.

  His two guards brought him to a stop a couple of feet away from her. One of them passed Delaney the RAP4 T68 sniper paintball rifle. The other one handed over the camo sheet Bishop had brought with him from New York.

  ‘You know, I’m seriously considering having you placed under arrest,’ she said. ‘Or shot. Of all the arrogant, thoughtless, idiotic—’

  ‘It could have been much worse,’ Bishop said, ‘don’t you think?’

  Delaney blew air out of her cheeks and said nothing. She studied the two items in her hands, still shaking her head. Bishop glanced past her shoulder and saw the principal sitting on the ground by the rear doors with two more deputies around him. One was offering him a glass of water. The principal had a hand pressed to his left temple, but otherwise didn’t look too bad for a dead man. Better than he had any right to be. His son was there, too. He was saying something to his father while staring hard at Bishop.

  ‘Where did you get this thing?’ Delaney asked, inspecting the rifle.

  ‘A specialist paintball store just off the Strip,’ Bishop said. ‘Even second-hand those things aren’t cheap. I kept the receipt, though. You can put it on your expenses.’

  ‘Yeah, right. And this thermal sheet?’

  ‘That’s my own property.’

  ‘How the hell did you even find us?’

  ‘How long are you planning to keep me tied up?’

  Delaney rolled her eyes and said, ‘Okay, Lomax, you can uncuff him.’

  ‘You sure, boss?’ asked a voice behind him.

  ‘Yeah. This is the same guy I went to see on Friday. Go ahead, take them off.’

  The cuffs were removed and Bishop brought his hands round and rubbed his wrists.

  ‘Now answer the question,’ Delaney said. ‘How did you find this place?’

  ‘Well, all I had to go on was neon.’ Delaney winced slightly, no doubt remembering her little slip back at the Maryland apartment, and Bishop went on quickly, ‘So I played a hunch it wouldn’t be too far from your last place, and Vegas fit the bill nicely. I also scanned the news sites until I found a story about a shooting in a house in Apple Valley, then did a little research until I found the house in question and the name of the person who rented it. Turns out a Simon Garrett signed the papers for that place on September seventeenth. Then it was a case of calling every realty agent in Vegas to see who’d rented houses on the day of the murder. You know, it’s amazing how most people on the phone believe you’re a cop if you simply say you are.’

  Bishop saw the principal was watching their impromptu gathering. He got to his feet and looked about to walk over, but the other deputies quickly got him and the boy inside, then slid the doors closed.

  ‘And?’ Delaney prompted.

  ‘And,’ Bishop continued, ‘it turns out there was a Stephen Garland who rented a one-storey house in a fairly remote p
art of North Vegas on that day. If your guy’s going to change his name, Delaney, tell him to change the initials too. It’s a common mistake. Anyway, I flew over here to check the place out from a distance and it didn’t take long to discover I’d hit pay dirt. Your guy sitting on the chaise longue in the front yard, under the big umbrella. That’s a really nice touch. He looks very natural sipping from his endless supply of beers, lazily watching the day go by as he listens to the radio. What’s he really drinking?’

  ‘Iced tea.’

  ‘Any spares in that cooler of his? All I’ve been drinking for the last thirty hours is stale water.’

  Delaney studied him. ‘You’ve been waiting out there since the night before last?’

  Bishop shrugged. ‘I’ve been stuck in worse locations, and for far longer. Course I was a lot younger, too. Still, I figured you’d allow your principal some fresh air at some point, even if it was for a few minutes. It was worth a shot. And one was all I needed.’

  Delaney looked skyward and quietly said, ‘I knew I shouldn’t have given in.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, I was watching your guys’ reactions and I couldn’t see any weak areas there. Of course, that would have all been academic had I been the real deal.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ a second voice said from behind him. ‘So if this guy found us, that means we’re compromised again, right?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Delaney said.

  ‘She’s right,’ Bishop said, turning briefly to the two men. ‘I was privy to certain information nobody else would have known. At least in theory.’ He turned back and added, ‘But I would suggest no more smoking breaks for your boy from now on.’

  ‘So you plan to stay the course, then?’

  ‘If the door’s still open. I’m thinking of that special favour clause, in particular.’

  ‘It’s still open. But what’s changed since we last spoke?’

  ‘You’re a good-looking woman. I realized I like being around you, that’s all.’

  Delaney gave a faint smile in return.

  ‘I could also really do with a shower. And maybe a change of clothes if one of your deputies can oblige. I didn’t pack any extras with me.’

  ‘I’m sure we can arrange something. Lomax, Hammond, go and collect the rest of his stuff. Bishop, come on inside and I’ll introduce you to everybody.’

  SEVEN

  The principal was leaning on the counter of the kitchen island and wincing as he touched the darkening bruise on his left temple. He was about five-ten, stocky, dark complexion, with thick longish black hair that was greying at the sides, and a symmetrical face with dark eyes set far apart and deep creases running from the sides of his nose to his mouth. Bishop put him somewhere in his late forties.

  Next to him, his son was carefully cutting two strips from a roll of Elastoplast. He was a slim, good-looking boy with dark blond hair cut very short, dark blue eyes and skin a lot fairer than his father’s. So he probably took after his mother, at least physically. He wore blue jeans and a black T-shirt with a huge white barcode on the front. Bishop put his age at somewhere between twelve and thirteen.

  As Delaney led Bishop over to them, the man said, ‘So you’re the son of a bitch who shot me. I’ll have this stinking headache for the rest of the day, thanks to you.’

  Bishop shrugged. ‘Better than being dead, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I don’t take kindly to being made a target, even if it’s just a paint pellet. You can believe if Barn wasn’t in the room I’d lay you out right now.’

  ‘Maybe once this is all over, you can give it your best try.’

  The man nodded slowly. ‘Maybe I will at that. It’ll give me something to look forward to.’

  Bishop smiled. It seemed they’d already gotten off to the best possible start, and he had to admit the guy had some balls. He kind of reminded Bishop of a compadre from his old Bravo Company called Hurley who’d always been quick off the mark to right any and all perceived wrongs to his honour. Especially in front of witnesses. The two men even shared the same body shape.

  Delaney introduced Bishop by name, and added, ‘So you’ve met our witness, John Strickland, and this is his son, Barney.’

  ‘Hello, Barney,’ Bishop said. But the boy just gave a curt nod as he fitted an Elastoplast to his father’s temple.

  Strickland winced. ‘Jesus, I feel like I’ve walked head first into a cannonball.’

  ‘There’s an old quote that goes “Pain is just weakness leaving the body,”’ Bishop said. ‘If that helps.’

  ‘It doesn’t. And I bet whoever said it never had some idiot shooting at them.’

  ‘Actually, it came from the mouth of a Marine Corps general, so he probably did have some experience there.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Barney said. ‘What was his name then?’

  Bishop turned to the boy. ‘Who, the general?’

  ‘Yeah, what was his name? Bet you don’t know.’

  ‘I do actually. His name was Lewis Puller.’

  The boy gave a snort. ‘Yeah, sure. Probably just pulled his name out of a hat to make yourself look smarter.’

  Bishop smiled at the kid. ‘That’s right. You’ve seen right through me.’

  Barney gave him his best sneer back. ‘So you know any others? Real ones, I mean. Not made up, like that one.’

  ‘One or two. There’s an old Chinese one that goes “It is good to strike the serpent’s head with your enemy’s hand.” You ever hear that one before?’

  Barney paused for a moment, appearing deep in thought. Then he said, ‘Oh yeah, yesterday morning on Sesame Street, Burt said it when Big Bird took a dump on Ernie’s head.’

  Bishop’s smile widened. He couldn’t help it. The kid was quick on the draw, no doubt about it. He reminded Bishop of himself as a boy. Combative, always questioning, never accepting, always answering his elders back. Even though they’d only just met, he had a feeling he and Barney were going to get along just fine.

  Strickland, looking at his son with unconcealed pride, said, ‘Don’t ever try and match wits with my boy, Bishop. You’ll come off second best every single time.’

  ‘I’m beginning to see that.’

  ‘Well, you sure know how to make a first impression on people,’ Delaney told Bishop. ‘Maybe now would be a good time to give you the ten-cent tour.’

  ‘Good idea.’ He nodded once at Barney, and let Delaney lead him out of the room.

  The single-storey house was twice as wide as it was deep. Around a hundred and twenty feet by sixty, Bishop estimated. The interior layout was simple enough. Upon leaving the kitchen and dining area, he and Delaney entered a short hallway with a bathroom on the left and a narrow utility room on the right. This room also allowed direct access to the garage via another door at the end. Then it was mostly open-plan at the front of the house, while the bedrooms continued along the rear. Delaney’s room was followed by the Stricklands’ room, then two shared bedrooms, and finally another short hallway with another bathroom on the left and the door to a fifth, front-facing bedroom directly opposite.

  On the right was a large recreation room with a pool table, with the huge main living area taking up the space on the other side of the house. The front door was located halfway down, with two long wooden divider shelves serving as a makeshift entrance hall.

  Bishop made mental notes of everything, especially the Stricklands’ room, looking for weak spots. He could probably have written a book, there were that many. But then no location was ever perfect. It was impossible. All you could do was make sure the weak areas were covered adequately.

  He also met two more marshals; Reiseker had been the one in the kitchen, and another, Jiminez, had been watching the street from one of the windows in the living room. Neither man acted pleased to see him, but that was okay. Bishop was here to do a job. As long as they did theirs, everything else was secondary. Delaney said another marshal, Sweeney, was currently resting in his room.

  She finally led
him back to the utility room and opened the connecting door to the garage. She turned on the lights and Bishop saw spaces for three vehicles. Only two bays were currently in use. The nearest one held a five-year-old silver Ford Taurus. The middle bay was left empty, while the far bay held a large black Toyota Highlander SUV.

  ‘The Ford we use for day-to-day stuff,’ Delaney said. ‘Food shopping, and the like. The SUV’s solely for transporting the Stricklands to and from whatever airfield we decide to use. Both vehicles have also got police scanners, tuned to the local police frequency.’

  ‘Both fully armoured?’ Bishop asked.

  ‘The SUV only. The body’s bolstered with steel plates, ballistic nylon and Kevlar. Ballistic nylon in the floor and ceiling. Windows are half-inch-thick polycarbonate mixed with leaded glass.’

  ‘What about tyres?’

  ‘We’ve got polymer run-flats clamped around the wheel’s centreline. They’re good for fifty or sixty miles of driving even after being shot out.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve used them before. Don’t these vehicles also have built-in GPS trackers?’

  Delaney nodded. ‘Hidden in the armrest on the driver’s side.’

  ‘Uh-huh. And the keys are kept where?’

  ‘One key in the ignition at all times, the spares I keep in my pocket.’

  ‘Good,’ Bishop said. Straight out of the manual. He walked to the front of the garage and checked the three wooden doors. They were single-panel overheads, operated both manually and remotely from the looks of things. Bishop looked to his left and saw a slit of a window at the side of the garage that looked out onto the front yard. He went over and peered through and saw the same deputy as before, lazing on the chaise longue.

  ‘That’s Gordon,’ Delaney said. ‘Goes out at eight every morning and comes back in at six. Any longer would bring unwanted attention from the neighbours. As it is, he’s just another deadbeat drinking his days away.’

  ‘What about when he has to go?’