The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (48 page)

So Bishop just waited.

The SUV remains were still smoking, although nowhere near as much as before. Bishop had already checked the other vehicles half an hour ago. The one with its roof sheared off had contained nothing but body parts and blood, a real mess. The car lying on its roof had contained three more bodies. The two passengers were dead while the unconscious driver was bleeding badly from numerous wounds caused by the explosion. Bishop just left him there to bleed out. With any luck, the guy was dead by now.

Best thing for him, really.

Finally, Barney gave a long sigh and said, ‘So I’m alone now. Mom’s dead. Dad’s dead. I might as well be dead too.’

‘Actually, the exact opposite is true,’ Bishop said. ‘You have to remember that everything your father did, he did so that you’d come out of this alive and healthy. That’s all he cared about, all he talked about these last two days. And while I never met your mother, I can pretty much guarantee she felt the same way. They both lived for you, Barney, and that means you now have to live for them.’

Barney snorted. ‘Sure, just live. Piece of cake.’

‘Oh, it’s anything but. Death is easy, it’s living that’s hard. I know that. Especially when you’ve lost the people who mean the most to you. And while it feels as though the sky’s falling in on you now, it isn’t. You’ll get through this. I know you will.’

Barney looked at him. ‘Yeah? How d’you know that?’

‘Because you’re tough, a lot tougher than most kids your age. It’s a quality you’ve clearly inherited from both your mother and your father, and it’s something I saw in you the moment I first met you.’

Barney stared at the wreckage. ‘So I’m tough. Big deal. I’m still alone, aren’t I?’

‘Not necessarily. I believe your mom had a sister named Marian Slocombe, who lives in West Vancouver, isn’t that right?’

The boy turned to him, a puzzled look on his face. ‘Yeah, that’s right. How’d you know about her?’

‘You dad brought her name up while we were waiting for you. Said she’d moved up there some time back and that she was married with her own kids. He also said that while she’d never had much time for him she’d always been real fond of you, and he made me promise I’d go up there afterwards and tell her everything that happened. He seemed certain that she’d be happy to have you and that she’d do a good job of bringing you up right.’

‘Aunt Marian,’ Barney said quietly to himself. ‘I forgot about her. Yeah, she didn’t like Dad
at all
, but, you know, she always loved me. And she always treated me like one of the family too.’

‘That’s because you are. So maybe you’re not quite as alone as you first thought.’

Barney gave a small frown, as though considering the possibility that there was some hope left for him. Then Bishop turned his head as he heard something that sounded like helicopter rotors in the distance. Looking up, he spotted two small specks approaching from the south-east and watched as the two specks gradually morphed into two helicopters. The larger one looked like a Sikorsky Black Hawk. He recognized the familiar bulky shape immediately. The other one was smaller and looked like a standard police Airbus.

‘Looks like our ride’s here,’ he said.

Barney followed his gaze up to the two approaching choppers.

Thirty seconds later the Black Hawk reached the square and began to descend. It was black with a gold stripe running around the main body. The side door had already been slid into the open position and half a dozen armed agents were sitting inside, all watching Bishop. The harsh air currents from the rotors tore at his face as the chopper got closer to the ground.

Over the noise of the rotors, Bishop yelled, ‘
Better move away from me, Barn
.’

Barney didn’t ask why. He just got up and moved ten feet to Bishop’s right. The moment the helicopter’s landing gear made contact with the ground, everybody poured out of the side door. Two men immediately crouched down close to the skid and covered the immediate area with automatic weapons as the other four ran towards Bishop and Barney.

Bishop knew what was coming next. He raised both hands and watched them approach.

Three males, one female, all carrying Glocks. The female and two of the men wore navy-blue caps, and navy-blue windbreakers with
US MARSHALS
printed in large white letters down the sleeves. The third man was in plain clothes.

When they were still only twenty feet away all four slowed to a trot and spread out. The male marshal in front yelled, ‘
On your knees, Bishop. Hands behind your head. Hands behind your head
.
Move
.’

Bishop obeyed. He raised himself up until he was on his knees and then clasped both hands behind his head. Behind the approaching figures, he saw the smaller chopper gently touch down about a hundred feet behind the Black Hawk. More figures exited this second chopper and moved towards the wrecked vehicles beyond.

The first marshal stopped in front of Bishop, his Glock still aimed at Bishop’s head, and said, ‘Don’t move an inch. Just remain perfectly still.’

The other two marshals had already moved behind Bishop, and he felt himself being body-searched. He was no longer armed anyway. After wiping his prints off Trooper Steve’s Glock 22, he’d placed the gun next to the dying gunman in the overturned car. He already had enough problems without adding possession of a stolen firearm to the list.

One of the marshals behind Bishop pulled his left hand down and snapped a flex cuff around the wrist. Then the other one. Bishop saw that the plain-clothes guy had holstered his weapon and was now showing Barney his ID while he spoke to somebody on his cell.

‘What the hell went down here?’ the first marshal asked. He was a burly, bearded, black guy of about Bishop’s age, with small eyes and linebacker’s shoulders. Bishop figured he had to be the senior marshal here.

Bishop said, ‘Am I under arrest?’

‘We’ll call it protective custody for now,’ the marshal said, and holstered his gun. ‘Now what happened here, and where’s that boy’s father?’

‘He’s dead.’

‘Dead? How?’

Bishop briefly explained how the man had blown himself up along with a large contingent of bad guys. When the marshal pressed for more details, he quickly went over the main events of the past two days: the escape from the safe house with Strickland and Barney; the firefight that resulted in the deaths of the two state troopers and Barney’s kidnapping; Callaway’s ultimatum and the deadline; their race across the country to get to Ohio in time. Bishop was just getting to the exchange itself when another marshal from the other chopper approached the black marshal and began speaking to him in a low voice.

The plain-clothes man also walked over to their group with Barney in tow. The boy was chewing his cheek and staring at everybody in turn.

Once the two marshals had finished their mini conference, the black deputy turned to Bishop and said, ‘Seems some of the hostiles were taken out by rifle fire originating from this building behind you. Would that be the same person who supplied the plastic explosive?’

‘It would.’

‘So who is he?’

‘A friend of mine. You just missed him.’

‘Uh-huh. And this friend of yours, does he have a name?’

‘Everybody’s got a name.’

The marshal was about to say something else, but the plain-clothes man cut in with, ‘Deputy Yeaton, I need to speak with you.’

The black marshal turned to him. ‘What about?’

‘I’ve talked to District Attorney Raines and he wants to talk to the boy here without delay. I’m to fly back to the courthouse immediately with him.’

‘So go. You can take the Airbus back.’

‘I would, except he refuses to go anywhere unless Bishop here goes with him.’

Yeaton looked at Barney. ‘And why’s that, son?’

‘I’m not your son,’ Barney said, his expression hard and unyielding. ‘I don’t know you and I don’t know any of these people. But I know Bishop, and I trust him. And I want him with me.’

‘Well, you can see we’ve got a lot of bodies here and the police will want some answers when they get here. And it’s important that this man give them to us while it’s still fresh in his mind. You do understand that, right?’

‘I don’t care,’ Barney said. ‘I’m not talking to anybody unless Bishop’s with me, and that’s that.’

Bishop silently applauded the boy. Only twelve years old and already refusing to take crap from anyone. But then it wasn’t exactly surprising. Barney had had to grow up fast over the last couple of days, and he’d been pretty mature to begin with.

‘See what I mean?’ the plain-clothes guy said. ‘Now you can call your superior if you want, but he’ll only tell you what you already know, which is that the DA’s directives take full priority here. Anyone who wants to interview Bishop can do it back at the courthouse, but we have to leave now.’

Yeaton gave a loud sigh. ‘Fine. Williamson, Palmer, you stay here with the others and wait for the sheriff’s department to get here. Tell them Golinski and me are flying back with the two witnesses and Mr Goodwin here. Got it?’

The marshal who’d spoken with Yeaton said, ‘Yes, sir,’ and trotted back towards the others. One of the other marshals behind Bishop helped him to his feet and then the five of them began walking towards the two choppers. He noticed the smaller one, the Airbus, was already powering up again. When they reached the chopper Yeaton helped Bishop aboard, placing him on the rear bench seat next to Golinski. Goodwin, Yeaton and Barney took the seats opposite. Nobody bothered trying to talk over the noise of the rotors, which rose steadily in pitch until it became almost deafening. The pilot completed his instrument checks, then took them up and headed back in the direction from which he’d come.

While everybody else stared out the windows, Bishop spent the journey looking at his shoes, thinking. There were still a number of other problem areas that nagged at him. More than a few, in fact. There was his own legal situation, of course, which was shaky at best, but he felt confident that would work itself out. Mrs Lomax could probably help in that regard, along with that footage on her husband’s hard drive. But he could worry about all that later.

Right now he was going through every conversation he’d had with John Strickland over the past two days, paying extra special attention to the pauses, since it was often during those moments of hesitation that you got the real story. Back when they were in Clea’s Explorer, for example, he’d asked Strickland, ‘
You saw him do it?
’ in reference to Hartnell. And Strickland had hesitated for a moment before confirming that he had. Just a small thing, but that little pause had puzzled Bishop at the time. And it still puzzled him.

Then there were those phone calls between Strickland and Barney. In particular, that moment when Barney had said he was sorry. At the time Bishop had assumed he was apologizing for putting pressure on his father to testify, but now he wasn’t quite so sure. So he went through everything again, slowly, methodically, piece by piece, missing out nothing.

Thirty minutes later they were flying over the outer suburbs of Columbus and heading towards the city centre when the clouds thinned out and the sun made a belated appearance. Which matched Bishop’s state of mind perfectly. He’d gone through a wealth of possibilities regarding the night of the murder and was now left with just one. He sensed it was the right one. Slowly, it had all begun to take shape in Bishop’s mind, with all the disparate pieces of the puzzle gradually coalescing to form a cohesive whole.

He still found it hard to believe. Yet while he recognized he could be completely off the mark, he didn’t think he was. The whole scenario made too much sense, especially when you considered where they were all headed.

Bishop felt a sudden shift in altitude and looked out the window as they descended. He saw they were currently passing over a bend in the Scioto River and approaching the downtown business district. The pilot was taking them towards a modern, seven-storey building that took up an entire square block. The county courthouse, if that’s what it was, looked as though it had just been completed yesterday. It was all very twenty-first century. The north side was broken up by a series of horizontal windows, while the west side was almost entirely made up of glass. Bishop couldn’t see the other sides, but he figured they were probably heavy on the glass too.

The pilot took the helicopter down.

As soon as the skids touched the roof surface Yeaton slid the door open and got out, and the others followed. He led them all towards a small square building where Bishop saw another marshal already waiting, next to an open door. Through the door they all went, into an enclosed concrete stairwell. They descended the fire stairs in single file, Bishop and Barney in the middle, Yeaton in the lead, talking in low tones on his cell phone. Yeaton brought them to a halt on the seventh-floor landing, then opened the fire door and stepped through. Bishop and the others followed him into a short, naturally lit, high-ceilinged corridor with a right turn at the end.

After the turn they entered a much longer and much wider corridor with administrative offices running down the right-hand side. Natural light poured in from the exterior glass walls on the left-hand side. The floor was polished concrete. It seemed to be a fairly quiet little corner of the building, with not much pedestrian traffic. Or maybe it was just a quiet part of the day. Bishop spotted two men in suits standing outside a set of double doors thirty feet away. Even from a distance Bishop was able to recognize one of them. He’d seen him being questioned on the news two days before, Deputy Director Whitaker of the US Marshals Service. And he assumed the other one was District Attorney Raines. He was a thin man in his fifties, and wore rimless glasses that failed to hide the heavy bags under his eyes.

Once they reached the two men Yeaton immediately spoke in low tones with Whitaker, while Raines came over to Barney and placed a hand on his shoulder, moving him away from the others as he talked to the boy. Bishop noticed one of the double doors behind Whitaker was partly ajar. Through the thin gap he saw what looked like a large, spacious meeting room. Two harried-looking men in shirtsleeves were sitting at a conference table covered with paperwork and legal pads, talking amongst themselves.