The Outsider (James Bishop 4)

by Dean, Jason

  After a couple of hundred yards, Bishop saw the Explorer at the side of the road with Clea and Strickland standing at the rear, waiting for him. Bishop slowed and brought the Nissan to a stop a few feet away. He got out and joined them.

  ‘This is where we part ways, Clea,’ he said. ‘We couldn’t have gotten this far without you.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Strickland said.

  Clea gave a faint smile. ‘I could say it was a pleasure, but we know it would be a lie. You two live in a world very different from mine. And I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forget what happened back at that apartment. Not ever.’

  ‘You’d be surprised at how well the mind can cope with unwanted memories. But you’re right. What happened today isn’t for you.’

  ‘But it is for you?’

  Bishop shook his head. ‘Not out of choice, believe me.’

  ‘I’m not sure I do believe you. I think a part of you actually craves these kinds of situations.’

  Bishop said nothing, although he saw an element of truth in there. Maybe he’d look into it further one of these days. Or maybe not.

  Strickland offered Clea his hand. ‘Thanks for coming back to the diner. You didn’t have to do that.’

  Clea shook the hand. ‘Yes, I did. I really hope you make it back to Ohio okay. And I’ll be thinking of Barney all the way back, and praying he comes out of this all right.’

  ‘I’ll makes sure he does,’ Bishop said.

  He gave her a final nod, then got back in the Nissan and waited as Strickland joined him on the other side. Bishop drove them away from there on the empty road. In the rear-view, he saw Clea get in the Explorer and close the door. A second later, the vehicle made a U-turn and took off in the opposite direction. Bishop kept watching until it had completely disappeared from view. Then he focused on the road ahead, making sure the needle stayed around the seventy mark.

  The dashboard clock said it was now 14.13. They still had a little less than sixteen hours left and a little under seven hundred miles to cover. Which, barring further obstacles, should be easy enough, even with what Bishop had in mind.

  ‘Weird,’ Strickland said.

  Bishop turned to him. ‘What?’

  ‘I was starting to get used to having Clea around. Feels funny with her gone. But look, are you sure it was a good idea letting her go? If the two of us get stopped now we’re really screwed. At least with her here we had a chance.’

  ‘If Guzman’s men hadn’t grabbed us I’m sure she would have stayed the course without a problem, but those few hours at the apartment took her close to breaking point. If she was here now and we got stopped, the slightest provocation would cause her to break down entirely. No, best we go our separate ways while we’re still able.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Strickland paused, then said, ‘Still, one good thing that came out of it is you sticking Hartnell in the meat grinder like that. Whatever happens to me now, at least I know that bastard’s not long for this world.’

  Bishop smiled. ‘He did it to himself. I’m just glad I could speed things along.’

  Strickland snorted. ‘Yeah, you did that, all right. So what now?’

  ‘Well, from here it’s a straight north-easterly route to St Louis three hundred miles away, then on through Indianapolis, and then another couple of hundred miles till we hit Ohio, I think. We’ll want to skirt the cities themselves, but I’ll use the I-44 for the initial part of the journey, which should speed things up. We’ll get off it just before St Louis, then find a Walmart or something where we can get ourselves a GPS unit for the rest.’

  ‘And some coffee.’

  ‘Yeah, coffee would help too.’

  Bishop also knew that roadblocks would remain a risk whichever route they took, but he felt the odds would be with them in this case. Assuming Charlie had talked to the feds, then they’d be expecting Bishop to head for Ohio from the west, via Colorado and Kansas. But instead, thanks to Guzman’s intervention, they were now approaching from Oklahoma, which should be the last thing they expected. The cops couldn’t cover every single road in and out of this part of the country. It simply wasn’t possible.

  Bishop slowed when he saw a sign pointing right for the entrance to the turnpike for the interstate. He signalled, took the next turn and starting accelerating again. ‘By the way, once we get to Indianapolis I’ll be making a short detour.’

  Strickland frowned at him. ‘Detour? What detour? What are you talking about?’

  ‘That marshal, Lomax, has got a house in Bloomington, Indiana, which is practically on the way. I want to check it out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why? Because the way things currently stand I’m the odds-on favourite for being the one that started all this, and I’d like to do something about it while I’m still able.’

  Strickland slowly nodded his head. ‘Okay. So?’

  ‘So I think Lomax’s wife was held as a bargaining chip to force him to give away our location and to make things easier for Hartnell’s hit team when they showed up on Tuesday morning. Like hiding that ignition key under the mat, for example. And maybe a few other things too. I’ve been thinking about the busted axle on that SUV, for example, and the more I think about it the more I’m convinced the damage was done before the assault. I’ve had plenty of experience with armoured vehicles in the past, and I just can’t see how automatic gunfire, no matter how intense, could have affected the axle like it did.’

  ‘But you don’t know.’

  ‘Exactly. I don’t know. But a search of Lomax’s home might give me something I can use against him. Something I can show to the feds when they eventually stick the cuffs on me, which they undoubtedly will the moment I turn Barney over to them. I already served time for a crime I didn’t commit, and I’m not about to let it happen again.’

  ‘Sure you’re not overreacting here, Bishop? I mean, all they got against you now is vague circumstantial evidence.’

  ‘Circumstantial evidence was enough to put me behind bars before. If it happened once it can happen again.’

  Strickland was silent for a moment. ‘So how long will this detour take?’

  ‘Not long. Bloomington is still on the way to our final destination. Kind of.’

  Strickland faced front again. ‘All right, I guess we can do that. As long as we’re at the exchange before the six o’clock deadline.’

  ‘We will be,’ Bishop said.

  SIXTY-THREE

  The first part of the journey went as well as could be expected. The I-44 was pretty much plain sailing, although the traffic started getting heavier the closer they got to St Louis. But there were no roadblocks at all, which was the best news possible. Strickland stayed quiet most of the time, allowing Bishop to spend much of the drive alone with his thoughts. Thinking about Frank Lomax, about what he might or might not find at the house, but also thinking about the dawn exchange and what he could do to prepare for it.

  The problem was all the odds were currently on Callaway’s side. Not only did he have the manpower advantage, but more importantly he had the choice of final location for the switch, and he was sure to know the terrain like the back of his hand. In fact, he was probably there now setting everything up. Whereas Bishop had only himself, and wherever this location was it was sure to be completely alien to him.

  But there were ways to counteract each of those problems. Possibly. One he could get on to fairly soon, but the other he couldn’t do anything about until much nearer the time.

  They left the interstate at the Valley Park exit at 18.55. It was already dark by that point, which immediately made Bishop feel less exposed. Once in town, he soon found a medium-sized shopping centre containing a Target and a Caribou Coffee store. While Strickland got them some caffeine and sandwiches, Bishop made a phone call and when he got the answer he wanted, he went into the Target store and used some of the money to purchase a TomTom GoLive GPS unit. He also picked up a Cobra Handheld CB radio, since that was still the best early-warning s
ystem around for avoiding roadblocks. Even better, this one had a Close Call RF Capture function, where the radio instantly tuned itself to signals coming from nearby transmissions.

  Back in the car, Bishop placed the CB radio on the dash, switched on the Close Call function and made sure the volume was turned up. Almost immediately a ragged male voice began blaring from the speaker as he cursed in colourful language about the state of the road he was driving on. Bishop immediately reduced the volume until the tirade became little more than background noise. He expected to hear a lot more transmissions like that one, but you had to take the bad with the good.

  Then Bishop quickly planned out the quickest route to Bloomington on the GPS, which seemed to involve getting them onto US 50 as soon as possible. After topping up the tank at a nearby gas station, Bishop decided it might be a good time to get a couple of hours’ shuteye while he could. He switched seats with Strickland, and then watched the road for a few minutes until they both saw the signs for US 50.

  It seemed to Bishop he’d only just shut his eyes when he felt a hand shaking his left shoulder. Instantly awake, he sat up, taking in everything at once. It was 21.33. The CB radio was transmitting white noise. On the GPS display he saw they were a couple of miles west of a place called Lawrenceville, not far from the Indiana state line. They were also slowing. But there were no police lights ahead of them, and no traffic coming towards them either. Just a set of tail-lights in the distance, and slowly getting further away. He could also see a small intersection ahead. He was about to ask what the problem was when Strickland handed him his cell phone. It was vibrating and the display was flashing Unknown Caller.

  ‘Callaway,’ Bishop said.

  ‘Has to be,’ Strickland said. ‘You answer it while I get us off the road.’

  Bishop pressed the green button, raised the phone to his ear, and said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘That you, friend?’ It was Callaway’s voice.

  ‘It’s me,’ Bishop said, not wanting to get into semantics again.

  ‘Where’s the other guy?’

  ‘He’s driving. Just finding a place to stop so he can talk to his boy.’

  While Bishop had been speaking, Strickland had taken the left turn at the intersection. It was just a dark dirt track, probably leading to a farm or a ranch further in. Strickland stopped the car after twenty feet and turned off the headlights. The only illumination now came solely from the dashboard light.

  ‘So how goes the journey?’ Callaway asked. ‘Making good progress?’

  ‘We’re doing okay,’ Bishop said. ‘And we’ll be on time.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. And so is the boy … Yeah, he’s here, nodding his head. So here we are again. I’m keeping my word, like I said I would. Aren’t I good?’

  ‘So put him on.’ He saw Strickland looking at him, waiting for the phone. Bishop pressed the loudspeaker button and handed it to him.

  ‘Son?’ he said. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘I’m here, Dad,’ Barney said. ‘It’s real good to hear your voice again.’

  ‘It’s great to hear yours too. So how you doing over there? You still okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m all right, I guess. I tried playing Tetris but I lose track of the lines after an hour and I have to start again. I keep thinking about you, and about Mom. I been thinking about Mom a lot lately. I try not to but it’s real hard. I … I really miss you.’

  Strickland closed his eyes. ‘I miss you too, son. More than you can imagine. I wish … I just wish there was some way …’ He trailed off into silence.

  ‘Me too, Dad, but it’s done now. And at least I know I’ll see you tomorrow. That’s what I’m looking forward to now.’

  ‘Good. I know it’s hard, but try and remain positive. And stay strong. We’re on our way.’

  ‘I know you are, Dad.’

  There was a second’s silence. Then two.

  ‘Excuse the interruption,’ Bishop said, ‘but have you ever heard of a guy named Lao Tzu?’

  ‘No,’ Barney said. ‘Why, who is he?’

  ‘An ancient Chinese philosopher. He founded Taoism. He also came out with a lot of wise proverbs, including one my sister told me when I was younger. He said, Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. It’s a bit hokey, I know, but I’ve always liked it. How about you?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s pretty good. Can you say it again?’

  Bishop repeated it, and Barney said, ‘Yeah, I really like that. I’ll try and remember it from now on. Thanks.’

  ‘Now isn’t that touching?’ Callaway broke in. ‘I’m getting teary-eyed here.’

  ‘You bastard,’ Strickland shouted into the phone. ‘Put him back on. Now.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Callaway said, unruffled. ‘I already explained why we need to keep these conversations brief, so suck it up and get your asses back on the road. I’ll call you again at around five so we can talk location.’

  The line went dead.

  ‘Son of a bitch,’ Strickland said, smacking his palm against the wheel.

  ‘You all right?’ Bishop asked.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘In that case I better drive. Let’s switch.’

  Strickland gave a long sigh, then opened his door and got out. Bishop did the same. Once he was in the driver’s seat again, he pressed the GPS display to zoom out and saw the turn-off for State Road 67 was only a few miles away. That would then take them most of the way to Bloomington, which was currently about eighty miles to the north-east. Bishop wanted to get there before 23.00, if possible. It was now 21.38.

  He turned on the headlights, swung a U-turn and took them back to the intersection. There was a pair of headlights approaching from the east, about thirty yards away. He waited for them to pass.

  ‘Hey, Bishop,’ Strickland said quietly.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘What for?’ The oncoming vehicle, a large pick-up, sped past and Bishop pulled out after it and stepped on the gas.

  ‘For what you said to Barn just now, that quote from that Chinese guy. That was a good thing to say.’

  ‘I just wanted to keep his spirits up, and that was the first thing that came to mind.’

  ‘Well, I think it worked, and not just for him.’ He paused, then cleared his throat. ‘So, anyway, thanks.’

  ‘No problem,’ Bishop said, and increased their speed.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  They reached West Evergreen Drive without incident by 23.03. It was located just off State Road 37 on the north-west side of Bloomington, in a very quiet section of town. The street had no lights, no road markings, and not that many residences, but there was no shortage of evergreens in the vicinity. They were everywhere you looked, with large copses covering the grounds between the houses and lining almost every driveway. All in all it seemed a nice, peaceful, rural setting. Bishop could see why Frank Lomax had chosen it for his base.

  Bishop cruised slowly down the street with his headlights off. He didn’t want to announce his presence if he could help it. The quarter-moon peeking through the thin clouds provided them with just enough light to see by. They passed about two dozen single-storey houses. These varied in size, but most were dark, which suggested early nights were the norm around here. Bishop checked the numbers of each mailbox they passed. As they approached the end of the road the trees gradually became thicker and the houses fewer and farther between. Finally, just before the woods threatened to take over entirely, Bishop saw a mailbox on the right with 844 on it.

  Just past the mailbox was a narrow driveway that angled through more trees. Bishop could just about make out part of a single-storey brick house beyond, maybe fifty feet away from them. He couldn’t see much from the road, but the house looked dark.

  ‘That it?’ Strickland asked.

  ‘That’s it,’ Bishop said. ‘Let’s go take a closer look.’

  He swung a U, parked on the other side of the road
and killed the engine. After deactivating the interior light, he got out. He carefully closed the driver’s door without a sound, and was glad to see Strickland acting with the same caution. Then they crossed the road and walked down the dirt driveway towards the house.

  As they got closer Bishop could see Lomax’s place was a fairly large brick bungalow, with a couple of steps leading to a front porch with a wooden railing. There was a prefab double garage to the right of the house, also wooden, with a narrow pathway running between the two buildings. There were no lights on in the house, and no vehicles parked on the driveway. The only sounds were some faint traffic noises far off in the distance.

  They stopped before the house and just stood there for a moment.

  ‘So we breaking in, or what?’ Strickland whispered.

  ‘Only as a last resort,’ Bishop whispered back. ‘Lomax told me they’ve got a German shepherd and I don’t want to get him worked up if I can avoid it. I’m hoping for an unlocked door or maybe an open window. I’ll try the front. You check the back, but do it quietly. If you see anything come get me.’

  Strickland nodded and disappeared down the pathway towards the rear while Bishop climbed the steps to the porch and moved carefully over the wooden decking towards the front door. There was an elaborate lion’s-head steel knocker in the centre and an oval doorknob on the right. Bishop tried turning the doorknob, but there was no give at all. Locked.

  He stepped off the porch and began walking towards the large window on the right-hand side of the house when he heard a psst from the direction of the pathway. He saw Strickland waving. Bishop went over to him and Strickland said, ‘Both back doors are locked, but I found an unlatched window we can use to get in.’

  ‘Good.’

  Bishop followed him down the pathway, passing a couple of dark windows, and soon entered a vast backyard bracketed by even more trees. He turned to the house and saw a pair of sliding window doors in the centre, but with the drapes drawn. There was a frosted window to the right of it, which suggested a bathroom. At the far left of the house was a panel door with a sash window next to it. The window’s lower panel had already been raised a couple of inches.