by Jason Dean
Bishop pulled the folded sheet containing the fingerprints from his jacket pocket and passed it to McIntyre. He also took out his cell phone, found the shot of the dead man and placed the phone on the desk.
McIntyre was smiling at the sheet in his hand. ‘Graphite and Scotch tape? Seriously?’
‘I forgot to bring my fingerprint kit with me,’ Bishop said. ‘Are they good enough?’
‘Well, I’ve seen worse. At least you didn’t smudge them.’ McIntyre put down the sheet and picked up the cell phone. He stared at the photo on the display and Bishop thought he saw a spark of something in McIntyre’s eyes. Just a flash.
‘You recognize him, don’t you?’
McIntyre bit his lip. ‘I might. I’m not sure.’ He stared at the photo for a few more seconds. ‘There’s something not quite right with the face, but he does look very similar to somebody on our files.’
‘And would this somebody be a Serb, by any chance?’
McIntyre tilted his head at Bishop. ‘How did you know that?’
‘I didn’t. But Klyce has recently been involved in tracking down war criminals left over from the Bosnian conflict. I thought maybe this guy’s one of them.’
‘Well, I know we’ve got his prints on the database, so I’ll check these against them later, but I’m pretty sure it’s him. But he’s had something done to his face. The cheekbones were never that pronounced before, and his nose is longer and wider. The hair’s the wrong shade, too. In fact, everything’s different. Only slightly, but enough to make you question your own powers of recall. Whoever the surgeon was who did this, he was good. The contours of the face and the basic bone structure have been changed enough to mean he could probably pass through our facial recognition software without raising an alarm.’
‘You gonna tell me his name?’
‘Well, I don’t know what it is now, but it used to be Janko Kordić.’ McIntyre folded his arms and looked at both men. ‘He’s fairly high up on Interpol’s Most Wanted charts. Neither of you ever heard of him before?’
Bishop shook his head, while Kidanu said, ‘No.’
‘Well, there’s no reason you should, I guess. He was one of Milošević’s boys, which gives you an idea of what kind of man he was. And probably still is. Interpol have been after him for years, but nobody’s laid eyes on him since 1996.’
Bishop pulled out a seat and sat down. ‘So who is he, exactly?’
‘He held a senior position in Milošević’s secret police. During the Balkan conflict, he was a key strategist in covert campaigns that terrorized and killed thousands of civilians. Witnesses say he got a little too zealous in seeking out spies and informants, too. They claim he personally rounded up and arrested untold numbers of civilians on trumped-up charges, then brought them back to the basement of the police building and tortured them for his own amusement. Sometimes for weeks. Men and women, that is. He even had his own incinerator down there to get rid of the bodies once he was done with them.’
Bishop’s face showed nothing, but a definite weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders. Kordić’s death had clearly been overdue for some time. Bishop had merely speeded up the process, that’s all. The only shame was that he hadn’t suffered as much as his victims had.
‘This is nothing new,’ Kidanu said, shifting in his seat. ‘Certain officials in my country’s recent past have been accused of doing exactly the same thing.’
‘And summarily executed,’ McIntyre said, ‘from what I hear.’
‘We are a new country, Mr McIntyre, but we are steeped in the old traditions. The eye for an eye rule is one of those traditions. The world will not miss scum such as they.’
‘You sound like some senators I know.’ McIntyre turned back to Bishop. ‘Anyway, Kordić and Milošević got together back in the eighties, but before that Kordić was already making a name for himself as one of the underworld’s most talented counterfeiters. A real rising star in certain circles, apparently. That’s probably how Milošević first heard of him. He began showing up on the Secret Service’s radar as someone to watch, and then nothing. But it doesn’t surprise me that he’s back in the currency game again. I guess the small fortune he stole in bearer bonds before fleeing the homeland finally ran out.’
Bishop had his own theory on that. Things were finally starting to come together in his mind. Not everything. Not by a long shot. But in light of this new information, the few available facts were beginning to make a little more sense.
He picked up his cell phone and rose from his seat. ‘Okay, thanks, McIntyre,’ he said. ‘It’s been educational. You can consider the favour paid in full.’
‘Not so fast, Bishop,’ McIntyre said. ‘Now I’d like that address.’
‘And you’ll get it. But not for a couple more days. Like I said.’
‘That’s unacceptable. If you’re right, then Kordić’s presence there is exactly the kind of bargaining chip I need to get the Canadians to chase this up. There are a lot of war criminals like him living in their country illegally, and they’ve been rabid in their efforts to hunt them down and bring them to trial. Especially after their parliament passed the War Crimes Act in 2000. Somebody like Kordić would be a big feather in their cap.’
‘Like smashing Klyce’s operation wide open would be a feather in yours?’
McIntyre stood up and exhaled loudly. ‘Don’t force me to get tough with you on this, Bishop.’
Bishop smiled. ‘I’m not forcing you to do anything, McIntyre. And if you’ve read my history, which I’m sure you have, then you know there’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t already been done. So go ahead, take off the gloves. See where it gets you.’
They just stood there eyeballing each other until Kidanu said, ‘It was my understanding the two of you were on the same side once.’
‘People change,’ McIntyre said.
Bishop kept staring at him. ‘Some more than others, apparently.’
‘I don’t apologize for placing national security before other considerations.’
‘Spoken like a true patriot. All that’s missing is the Star-Spangled Banner playing in the background.’
There was a long pause. Then McIntyre slowly sat down again. ‘I’ll expect that location within the next forty-eight hours, Bishop. It’s in your very best interests not to make me wait any longer than that. You do get my meaning?’
Bishop smiled again. ‘So long, McIntyre,’ he said, and walked to the door.
SIXTY-EIGHT
They were heading north on the New Jersey Turnpike when Kidanu said, ‘That meeting with McIntyre did not go the way you expected.’
Bishop shrugged as he changed lanes. ‘McIntyre said it himself, people change. Especially over sixteen years. And we weren’t exactly bosom buddies to begin with.’
‘And that was because of this favour he owed you?’
‘Kind of.’
Kidanu nodded. ‘Intriguing. I would like to know more.’
Bishop just drove in silence for a while, trying to think of an excuse not to tell him. He really didn’t like talking about the past, but Kidanu had shared an important part of his own history the other day. If not the most important. The guy deserved something in return, even if it was pretty insignificant in comparison.
Finally, he said, ‘Back in the Corps, I was on the Security Guard Program. That’s where they assign you to a US embassy somewhere and you get to wear your blue dress uniform. The first of my two fifteen-month tours was at the embassy in Haiti.
‘One day my detachment commander told us the US Secretary of State would be arriving for talks with the newly elected Haitian president, and that due to my combat experience I’d been assigned to help the Secret Service keep a watch at his hotel. In civilian clothing, of course. McIntyre was one of the agents there. We got along okay.
‘The second day, the Secretary was out at the National Palace with his protective detail. McIntyre and I were left behind at the hotel. The Secretary had been given the w
hole floor so we were spread pretty thin. When the three cleaners arrived at their usual time, I gave them a body search while McIntyre made a check of their carts, and then we let them carry on with their work. But something was bugging me. I didn’t know what. Just a feeling.’
‘Yes,’ Kidanu said. ‘I have had such feelings before.’
‘Well, I kept checking on the cleaners as they did the Secretary’s suite, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. But when they were finished my radar picked something up. I searched them again at the elevator. Nothing. Then I checked the carts and realized one of them was missing a box of detergent. When I questioned the cleaner, he said he didn’t know what I was talking about. But he seemed nervous. I radioed McIntyre and that’s when the guy suddenly pulled a pea shooter from the yarn of one of his mops, took a couple of shots at me and ran for the emergency stairs.
‘I pulled my piece and winged him just before he reached the door. McIntyre sprinted past me and cuffed him. We found the detergent box inserted into a space in one of the bedroom wardrobes. Inside the box was enough plastique to take out the entire floor, and maybe the one above. And timed to go off at midnight, when the Secretary would be fast asleep.’
‘And the cleaner?’ Kidanu asked. ‘Who was he?’
‘Just another lone crackpot who didn’t like the USA nosing into his country’s business. The Haitian president had him executed the next day. Justice works fast over there.’
Kidanu nodded. ‘But McIntyre missed the gun hidden in the mop.’
‘Well, it was a little Kel-Tec P32, so it was fairly easy to miss, but, yeah, he should have spotted it. But since we both ended smelling of roses, neither of us ever mentioned it again. But McIntyre did say any time I needed a favour I should give him a call. He gave me his number and said I should also think about a career in the Secret Service when I got out.’
‘And that held no interest for you?’
‘Working for the Man? Not really my style. Besides, by the time I’d finished my eight years I’d realized I wanted a little more control over my own life. And I wasn’t likely to get that working for the Secret Service, was I?’
Bishop glanced at the clock on the dash and saw it was just after three. His stomach was reminding him he hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday. And they were running dangerously low on gas. The needle was already well into the red.
He got off at the next exit and took the US-1 into North Brunswick, hoping to find a gas station pretty soon. As he drove, something suddenly occurred to him and he said, ‘Back at the embassy the other night.’
Kidanu turned to him. ‘Yes?’
‘How did you know I was on the premises?’
Kidanu smiled. ‘Oh, that. I received a call from one of the police officers who patrol the street outside. He said he thought he might have seen some movement near the roof. I was preparing to check when I received that fake call about the pizza. I rewound the upstairs footage and spotted you walking towards the stairwell with a phone at your ear. After that, I simply searched every floor until I found you in the basement.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Bishop thought he’d kept himself well hidden from that patrol car. Obviously he’d been mistaken.
After a couple more miles, he spotted a small shopping centre just up ahead, and a gas station a little further on. He passed the shopping centre, pulled into the station and parked next to a vacant pump. He looked over and saw the place doubled as a convenience store, of which a large section was taken up by a burger joint containing several tables and chairs. There was also a coffee bar with a couple of high tables to rest against.
Perfect.
Handing the keys to Kidanu, Bishop said, ‘I’ll give the attendant enough for thirty bucks’ worth, but you fill the tank, okay? I’m gonna order a burger or something inside. You need anything?’
Kidanu said a burger was fine and Bishop nodded and got out. He went in and handed the young male cashier three tens for the pump and then walked to the burger bar.
There was a young Indian guy in an apron behind the counter, and an elderly couple sat at one of the tables munching on their burgers and fries. The food didn’t look all that great to Bishop. Probably reheated rather than made from scratch. Not that he particularly cared. A young couple were propped against one of the high tables in the coffee bar section twenty feet away, drinking from large disposable cups. A young, attractive black girl sat behind the counter beyond them, waiting for her next customer. That was all. It wasn’t a busy place. He spotted a hallway close by, with signs for the restrooms and fire exit.
He went over to the counter and ordered two burgers and two fries. The Indian guy said he’d bring it over to the table in five minutes. Bishop paid and took a seat at one of the tables. A minute later, the guy brought over two tumblers of water.
Bishop picked up one of the tumblers and was taking a sip when Kidanu arrived.
‘Got you a burger,’ Bishop said.
Kidanu said, ‘Thank you, but first I must report to Colonel Bekele and my battery is down to almost nothing. I saw a cell phone store in that shopping centre we passed, so I will go and get a replacement now.’
‘You can always use my phone.’
Kidanu smiled. ‘The colonel insists on face to face reports. He is peculiar that way. We use video conferencing and I know your cell phone lacks that capability. I will get a new battery.’
Bishop shrugged and watched as Kidanu walked back the way he had come. Then the Indian guy brought over the food he’d ordered and Bishop began to eat. It was edible, but only just. He took a sip of his water and watched two businessmen in suits come in and sit at the coffee counter. They looked like salesmen. The black girl laughed at something one of them said and then went to prepare their drinks.
Bishop went back to his meal and played over what he’d learned so far.
Thanks to McIntyre, he now had the answer to a minor piece of the puzzle. Janko Kordić. But that wasn’t the most interesting thing McIntyre had said.
He’d also mentioned something that reminded Bishop of a piece he’d read in Time magazine a while back, about the Crimes Against Humanity and War Crimes Act the Canadians had passed over ten years before. And then there were those extra bedrooms at that annexe. That was important. And it also went some of the way towards explaining a few things on Amy’s CD.
And then there was the other thing. That one extra item that possibly gave everything a whole new slant.
Bishop went through it all again. He noted where the problem areas were – like all those generic names, and those three letters, N, C and L – and tried to come up with plausible, or logical, explanations based on what he’d learned today. He was munching a soggy French fry when the answer came to him. One that explained the significance of the names. And the three letters. He’d been right. Once you knew what those three letters stood for, everything else fell into place.
Almost. There was still the problem of those fake phone numbers. But he even had an idea about those, too. And that extra name, S. Bainbridge, might also hold the answer. Bishop had no doubt Muro could check it out easily enough.
I’m not far from the finish line now, Amy, he thought. And then you’ll be safe again. I promise.
He absently reached down for another fry and discovered the plate was empty. He looked up and saw the elderly couple had already left. So had the young couple drinking coffee. Bishop hadn’t even noticed. The two salesmen were still there though, quietly drinking their coffee at one of the high tables. Bishop looked at his watch and saw over fifteen minutes had passed since Kidanu left.
He pulled out his cell and tried his number. It went straight to voicemail. Perfectly reasonable, of course, since Kidanu’s battery was almost dead. But he was getting that old feeling in his gut. The one that warned him whenever something was out of kilter. Maybe he should visit that phone store and see what Kidanu was up to.
Bishop wiped his hands with a napkin, then got up and walked down the hallway towards
the restrooms. The men’s room was on the left. He went inside. It was empty.
A minute later, Bishop was washing his hands when he heard the door open behind him. He was turning his head when there was a sudden, sharp pain at the base of his neck. Every muscle in his body immediately tightened up as his nervous system went haywire. He fell to the floor and for the next several seconds it felt as though someone was reaching in and ripping his muscles apart with a fork.
Then everything went black, and he felt nothing at all.
SIXTY-NINE
Bishop’s first thought upon waking was that he’d been tasered, and then given an extra something to put him out. Chloroform, maybe. Whatever it was, he still felt groggy from the effects.
His second thought was that he’d screwed up, big time. Whatever this was, it hadn’t just happened to him. Bishop had allowed it to happen. He was to blame.
He’d known something was off-kilter, but he’d let his guard down when he should have been paying more attention to his immediate surroundings. Like those two ‘salesmen’ arriving at the coffee bar and then spending fifteen minutes nursing their drinks at a table. That was what had been wrong. Most business types would simply order drinks to go and get back on the road to wherever they were going. Those two had gone against the norm, but Bishop hadn’t given their behaviour enough weight. And now he was going to pay for it.
And Amy? If he didn’t make it out of this situation, what would become of her? That weighed on his mind more than his own life.
His chin was against his chest. He opened his eyes part of the way and saw a sturdy wooden chair under him. His shoes were resting on a grimy concrete floor. So probably a warehouse. Possibly still in New Jersey. Depended how long he’d been out. His arms were behind the back of the seat. Something held his wrists together. It felt like flex cuffs. Or maybe zip ties. He hoped the latter. He flexed his arm muscles a little. Just enough to realize his wrists weren’t attached to the chair, just to each other.
Which meant he was being watched right this second. And watched closely. So that if he tried to get up they’d immediately slam him down again. But his captors definitely knew how to keep quiet, which proved they weren’t amateurs. Bishop heard no sounds. Not from in here. Not from outside.