Authors: Jason Dean
‘Abraham?’ the male voice said. ‘Where are you? You’re late.’
Bishop gave a noncommittal grunt to give himself more breathing space. He was thinking back to Abraham’s voice pattern, wondering if there had been a hint of Kansas or Missouri in there, when the caller said, ‘Who is this?’
‘Abraham,’ Bishop said in what he hoped was the right pitch.
‘I don’t think so. He’s never been the grunting type. Where is he?’
‘Disneyland,’ Bishop said in his own voice. ‘Poor guy needed a break.’
There was a second’s pause. Then, ‘You’re Bishop.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do.’
‘So what shall I call you?’
‘My name’s not important,’ the man said. The clipped voice came with a slight echo behind it. He sounded amused. In control. Which he clearly was at present. Bishop hated him already.
‘In that case, why don’t I just call you Merv? There was a kid in high school by that name who got caught flashing in the girls’ toilets one time. Your voice reminds me of him.’
The man sighed. ‘Sticks and stones, Bishop. You’ll have to do better than that.’
‘Sticks and stones were all I needed to deal with Abraham. Might make more of an effort when you and I meet up, though.’
The man snorted. ‘Do you want some friendly advice?’
‘Love some.’
‘Disappear,’ he said. ‘You may think you’re a threat to me, but you’re not. Not even close. Believe me, you’re totally out of your league on this, so your best bet is to go home and forget all about it.’
‘Sounds like great advice. Oh, just one thing, though. Selina has to come with me.’
‘Selina? Oh, you mean Sonja Addison.’ He chuckled. ‘Yeah, I know all about her real history. You’d be surprised at how successful we are at getting people to pour out their secrets. As for letting her go, well, that’s not really possible at this late stage. Not now that everything’s been squared away. You understand.’
‘Sure,’ Bishop said. ‘I can’t really walk away, either. I’ve just realized I can’t have you breathing the same air as me. Especially not after what you did to her mother.’
The man chuckled again. ‘You heard about that, did you? Well, that’s life for you. Just goes to show you can get killed cross—’
Bishop pressed the red button and dropped the phone back in the glove compartment. He wouldn’t get anything else from the bastard except more empty threats and smug retorts, so why prolong things?
Vallejo said, ‘Who was that? Olander?’
‘Not unless he’s lost his mid-Atlantic accent. But he sounded like a man clearly used to giving orders and having those orders obeyed. Maybe a partner of some kind. Olander might have provided the seed money and the clout, but the guy on the phone is running things. I’m sure of it.’
‘So you get anything useful from the conversation?’
Bishop shrugged. ‘Not much. There was a slight echo when he spoke, so I got the impression he was in a room with a high ceiling.’
‘Like a warehouse?’
‘Could be. Also, he used the term
everything’s been squared away
.’
‘So?’
‘So that’s not normal-speak. Your average person might say “arranged” or “taken care of”. But not “squared away”. I’ve never heard that one used outside the Marine Corps.’
‘You’re right. I’ve heard my dad use the phrase sometimes, but that’s about it.’ Vallejo frowned. ‘Does that make a difference?’
‘Not sure. I know Abraham was ex-navy.’ He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. ‘I guess it just means that I’m likely to be up against some well-trained men.’
Vallejo turned to him. ‘You mean
we’ll
be up against them.’
‘That’s what I said. We.’
At 23.27, Bishop saw two men emerge from the shadows of the warehouse and walk towards the parked cars. He grabbed the scope from the dash and said, ‘Wake up, Vallejo. We got something.’
‘I am awake,’ she said. ‘Just resting my eyes, that’s all.’
‘Sure.’ He looked through the eyepiece and saw both men were making plenty of arm movements. Looked like they were arguing about something. One of them had very light hair. Possibly white or light grey. The other looked nondescript from this range. He handed the scope to Vallejo. ‘One of them could be Olander.’
She looked in silence for a few moments, fought a yawn, then handed it back to Bishop. ‘Looks like it. We’ll know for sure in a second.’
Bishop put the scope to his eye again. The two men were just standing there, about twenty feet from the cars. Still arguing. Then the light-haired man shook his head and walked over to his car, while the other man watched.
The light-haired man got into the Jag and pulled away as the other man walked back to the warehouse. The front gate opened automatically when the Jag was within a few feet of it, and as soon as there was enough space he drove through. Bishop kept the scope on the front windshield all the way. When he was about to pass by, Bishop could see from the Jag’s dashboard illumination that it was the same man as in the photo.
‘Now there’s a man clinging to the past,’ Vallejo said. ‘Check out the vanity plate.’
Bishop lowered the scope and got a flash of the licence plate.
AZMAYOR
.
‘Real subtle,’ Bishop said. ‘I guess it must make him feel important.’
He aimed the scope down the hill again. The gate was closed. The man had retreated back into the building. Everything was still.
Vallejo turned to him. ‘Frightened women arriving with escorts. Armed guards. Security fencing all around. Grant Olander on site. I don’t know about you, Bishop, but this is looking more and more like the place.’
But was Selina in there? That was the question foremost in Bishop’s mind. He leaned his elbow on the armrest and rubbed a palm over his buzz cut. ‘Hmm,’ he said.
‘And what does “hmm” mean?’
‘It means I need more intel. I don’t like the thought of going in blind and there’s only one way to solve that.’
Vallejo gave a single bark of laughter. ‘There it is. I
knew
you brought me out here for a reason. Don’t tell me. I’m picked for lookout duty. And here I was, actually believing we were gonna go in together.’
Bishop sighed. ‘And we will, Vallejo. This is just a recon. I’m not prepared for anything more than that right now.’
‘Sure. And what if you happen to see Selina in there? You telling me you’ll just leave her where she is and come back out again?’
‘That’s something I can’t answer until I get an idea of the layout. If she’s in there and she’s under the watch of a single guard and I think I’ve got a chance, then yeah, I might try and bring her out. But only if I think I can do it without getting us both killed in the process. I’ve come too far to risk her life unnecessarily with a half-assed rescue attempt.’
Vallejo watched him for a moment, then nodded. ‘Okay, but what if there are surveillance cameras? They’ll make you the moment you get over the fence.’
He shook his head. ‘Night-time cameras need ambient light to work with, and I don’t see any lights out there.’
‘But you don’t
know
.’
‘No, I don’t. But that’s why I’ve got you here.’
Vallejo gave a deep sigh. ‘Why do I get the feeling you had this planned from the start, Bishop? And why am
I
the lookout?’
Bishop reached over, opened the glove compartment again and pulled out the hands-free cable with microphone and earpiece. ‘Because you got better night vision than me,’ he said.
‘Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?’
‘I saw you driving last night, remember? With no lights. In the dark. Like it was day. Or am I wrong?’
She shrugged. ‘You’re not wrong. My dad always said I was born with the eyes of a cat. So we going to keep in contact by cell phone? That’s pretty low-tech, isn’t it?’
‘You can only work with what you’ve got.’
‘And what about the armed guards? You given them any thought?’
‘Sure,’ he said and pulled the Sig out from under the seat. He checked the magazine again. It still held fifteen rounds, with one in the pipe. Same as the last time he’d checked.
‘Don’t suppose you got a licence for that thing.’
He blinked at her. ‘Would it make any difference?’
She smiled. ‘I guess not. You know as soon as you use it, the whole world’ll come crashing down on you.’
‘If I have to use it, everything’s already gone to hell. This is strictly for insurance. But I learned long ago it’s better to have a gun and not need it than the other way round.’
‘Right out of the police manual,’ she said. ‘So when you going in?’
‘The moment somebody else opens that gate.’
It was 02.07 when Bishop heard Vallejo whisper in his ear, ‘Heads up, we’ve got company.’ He looked to his left and two seconds later spotted the faint hint of headlights coming his way.
‘I see it,’ he whispered into the microphone, and turned his face away in order to retain his night vision. He just concentrated on the sound of the tyres crunching along the road as the vehicle got closer.
Bishop was lying flat, next to the fence, about twenty-five feet to the right of the front gate. Far enough away for an approaching car’s headlights not to reach him. He had the ski mask on, so all anyone looking would see was a black mass on the ground. He hoped.
‘He’s about thirty feet from the gate,’ Vallejo whispered. ‘Two-door sedan of some kind. I can only see the driver in there. Twenty feet.’
‘Copy that.’ Bishop just lay there. Waiting. Listening. The sound of the engine became steadily louder until the vehicle came to a halt. A door opened. No other sounds. Guy was probably wearing sneakers. Or shoes with rubber soles. Like Bishop.
‘He’s putting in the code now. And no, I can’t make it out.’
Bishop smiled under the mask. After a few moments he heard the sound of a lock being disengaged, accompanied by an electronic whine. Then Bishop heard the car door slam shut. The engine idled for eleven more seconds before the driver began moving the car forward. The electronic humming continued. The sound of the engine grew fainter.
‘He’s heading left, towards the other parked cars.’
Bishop moved his head and saw the vehicle’s rear lights getting smaller. The gate stopped moving.
‘No sign of the guard yet,’ Vallejo said.
The electronic hum started up again and the gate began to close.
‘I still don’t see him,’ she said. ‘Come on, you . . . Okay, there he is. Approaching from the left side of the warehouse. You should be able to see him any second now. He’s about two hundred yards from you. Gate’s half closed already. You’ve got a clear run. If you’re gonna move, better do it now.’
He saw the guard in the distance with his back to Bishop. Just as Vallejo described. Bishop jumped to his feet and sprinted for the gate, covering the twenty-five feet in three seconds. He dived through the gap and kept rolling. He heard the gate click shut behind him, got up and kept running towards the right-hand building a hundred yards away. The length of a football field. Easy. He focused on the building and nothing else. Just went full out. He reached it fifteen seconds later, slightly out of breath, but still alert. Still ready for anything.
‘Nice going, marathon man,’ Vallejo said in his ear. ‘Guard’s talking to the new arrival. Another guy in casual clothes.’
‘Uh huh.’ Bishop checked his immediate surroundings. Vallejo wouldn’t be much help to him now. Too many blind spots from her position in the car. If there was another guard working the perimeter, he’d know about it before she did.
He was in front of a concrete building with two steel roll-up doors, one on either side of him. No light coming through the cracks. The eastern wall of the main warehouse was about forty or fifty yards away, shrouded in deep shadow. He stayed where he was for a few moments. Just waiting. Ready to act if he saw movement. His theory regarding surveillance cameras had sounded good, but if he was wrong he’d find out soon enough.
Seconds passed and nothing happened. Vallejo was quiet. The guard must still be acting as normal. Which meant there was no alert out, and no cameras.
He ran over to the warehouse. Once he reached it, he stayed close to the steel wall and moved towards the northern side. He didn’t pass any doors or entrances along the way. When he reached the end, he peered round the corner and saw movement. A human-shaped silhouette about fifty feet away.
Bishop quickly pulled his head back and said, ‘Is the guard still talking to the guy?’
‘Yeah, they’re walking back now. Where are you?’
‘Main warehouse. North-east corner. We got a second guard back here.’
‘Copy that.’
Bishop crouched down and poked part of his head round again. The shape was bigger. The man was about twenty feet away now and getting closer. Ambling along. Bored, probably. Looked about five-ten. Thick build. Bishop ducked back again and stood up, back against the wall. So either two guards were patrolling the same part of the warehouse, which made no sense, or one guy stayed inside and only came out to check when a new arrival came in. Probably from an electronic signal whenever the gate was activated.
Bishop stayed totally still, breathing through his mouth, listening to the faint sounds of feet on gravel.
He waited.
When the guard came round the corner five seconds later, Bishop made a fist of his left hand and jabbed upwards, the middle knuckles of his fingers striking the guard just under his right ear. Where the nerves were. The guard made a soft grunt and began to crumple. Bishop grabbed the unconscious man round the waist and slowly lowered him to the ground.
He got up and peered round the corner again. Just in time to see two more distant silhouettes disappear into an opening in the warehouse.
Bishop took off his ski mask and looked down at the guard. Last time he’d tried that move, the victim had stayed unconscious for over half an hour. And he’d been a lot bigger than this guy. Should give him enough time. Still, he couldn’t leave him out here in the open.
The guard was wearing a dark nylon windbreaker over a pale shirt and dark pants. Bishop removed the jacket and placed it on the ground next to him. He also removed the man’s duty belt and holster. The gun was a new-looking Taurus 909 9mm. Bishop checked the contents of the belt pouches. They contained a pair of handcuffs, a Maglite, a Cobra walkie-talkie, a set of keys, and a thin vial of pepper spray.