The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (27 page)

The three men waited in silence. Strickland shook his head in despair every now and then while Toby sat silently watching them both, not moving at all. The occasional vehicle passed by outside, but none pulled in.

Bishop estimated about nineteen additional minutes had passed when he heard the sound of tyres on dirt and gravel outside. He looked up and saw the dark pick-up from before pull into the entrance and approach the front of the diner.

Toby stood up and smiled. ‘Well, better late than never,’ he said.

Bishop watched the pick-up slowly come to a stop in almost exactly the same spot where the Explorer had been. A few seconds later the two brothers, Zach and Tyler, got out. They were dressed the same as before. Thick coats, jeans, matching baseball caps. The driver arched his back while the other one arranged something at the back of his pants and looked around. The driver then patted the right-hand pocket of his jacket and said something to his brother. The other one said something back.

Bishop almost smiled. Time to plant the seeds of doubt in Toby’s mind. ‘Your so-called partners have come armed,’ he said.

Toby turned to him. ‘So what?’

‘So why would they do that?’

‘To help keep you two covered, of course. Why else?’

‘One of them, maybe. But both of them? I don’t think so. No, I think it’s far more likely they’re planning to stiff you. In both senses of the word.’

‘You better shut your damn mouth, else I shut it for you. I known these boys a long time. We’re practically family.’ But even as Toby said it, he was frowning at the two brothers. They were still out there talking.

‘But you’re not family, Toby,’ Bishop said, and shook his left arm until the knife blade emerged at his inner wrist. One more good shake and it would fall right into his palm. ‘Not
real
family, I mean. Not like those two are to each other. And it worries me that it took so long for them to get here. You said ten minutes. They took twenty-five. The way I see it, that’s more than long enough for two smart men to formulate a whole new game plan altogether. One that doesn’t involve you at all.’

‘What?’ Toby turned back to him. ‘What the hell are you talking about, asshole?’

‘I’m saying that if I was them, I’d make the most of my presence here and cut you all the way out. Especially as they can pull the trigger on you easily and then blame it on me, since I won’t be around to argue. I’ll be long gone. And let’s face it, seventy-five grand sounds a hell of a lot more appealing than just fifty, don’t you think?’ He faced front again. ‘I wonder what they’re discussing out there. Must be something real important if they don’t want you to hear it.’

Toby said nothing. Just watched them out there, talking between themselves. For all Bishop knew the two brothers
were
planning to freeze Toby out, but it didn’t make any difference. The suspicion that they might be was all he needed. The brothers had now finished their discussion and were strolling casually towards the front entrance.

‘You’re just trying to screw with my head,’ Toby said. ‘I known them both a long time. We’re partners in this.’

‘With a hundred and fifty grand at stake? Accessible via a dodgy bank account that only Zach has access to?’ Bishop chuckled. ‘You’re a lot more trusting than I would be in your position, Toby. All I’m saying is it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on them, that’s all.’

The men appeared at the door. The driver tried the handle a couple of times, but the door was locked. Probably by Toby when he turned the sign round.

‘Use your spare key, Zach,’ Toby called out. ‘I’m watching these two.’

As the driver, Zach, reached into his pants pocket Bishop shook his arm and the steak-knife blade slid into his palm. He quickly rotated it a hundred and eighty degrees until he had the knife in a reverse grip, with the blade running parallel along his elbow. Toby was maybe four or five feet away. And Bishop was in a sitting position with a table obstructing his movement. It wasn’t good, but then life was never perfect. He began slowly, carefully, inching himself along the seat, towards the aisle. And towards Toby.

There was the jangling of a key in a lock, and then Zach pushed the door open and they each stepped inside. The other one, Tyler, closed the door and latched it shut, then stood just to the side of it.

Zach came forward a little and smiled at Bishop. ‘Yeah, it’s him all right. Didn’t I tell you, Ty?’

‘Sure did,’ his brother said.

‘Look,’ Toby said, his gun wavering between the two groups, not pointing at anybody in particular, ‘you guys … uh, you guys just stay there a minute, okay? I need to think.’

Zach stopped and frowned at the shotgun. ‘Better watch yourself there, Tobe. Seems to me that thing’s almost pointing our way, don’t it, Ty?’

‘Seems like,’ the other one said, and started slowly moving his right hand to the back of his waistband.

Bishop had almost progressed to the edge of his seat now and figured there was about three feet between himself and Toby. He glanced over at Strickland and mouthed the words
Stay down
. Strickland nodded understanding and made himself small in the seat. Under the table, Bishop began lifting the balls of his feet and lowering them again. He also raised each leg and rotated the ankle one way, and then the other. He’d been sitting a long time and wanted to make sure all the muscles down there were limber and ready.

‘Well, well, well,’ Zach said, and took a few steps towards them. He was still about fifteen feet away, though, and his right hand was now in his coat pocket, the same pocket he’d been patting before. ‘What’s this guy been saying to you, Tobe? Don’t tell me, he’s been trying to play you against us, am I right?’

‘Yeah, Zach, that’s what he’s been doing, all right.’ Toby said, his shotgun still pointing at nothing in particular. But his hands no longer seemed as steady as before. To Bishop, he looked nervous. Unsure of himself.

Bishop knew he wouldn’t get a better chance than right now.

Zach said, ‘But you know better than to listen to him, right, Tobe? I mean, he’s liable to say just about any –’

At that point, Bishop leaped off his seat and ducked out of the booth towards Toby. Staying low, he swung the steak knife towards Toby’s midsection, narrowly avoiding the hands holding the shotgun. But Toby instinctively swivelled his body at the last moment and the knife blade missed his abdomen and sunk into his side instead.

Toby gave a hoarse scream as he stumbled back and as he fell to the floor, the shotgun went off with a thunderous boom.

Bishop immediately heard gunshots coming from somewhere up front. He dived to the floor and grabbed the Mossberg’s barrel and yanked it from the man’s weak grip. The metal was still hot from the blast. Bishop ducked under the nearest table as more gunshots came from the front.

Scrambling under the table on his hands and knees, Bishop heard the sounds of rounds hitting walls and quickly emerged on the other side. He knew the Mossberg had five more shots at most. Maybe less. And he had to assume the brothers had spare magazines for their weapons. Which meant his only chance was to end this fast.

The room went quiet for a heartbeat.

Then one of them shouted, ‘Over
there
,’ and there was a barrage of gunshots and Bishop heard a grunt of pain behind him and turned. Toby had been hit. Which meant the brothers were still focused on his previous position. Good. Bishop immediately got to his knees, faced front and brought the shotgun up. He could make out a human-shaped silhouette standing in front of the left window, both arms raised in a shooting position.

Bishop aimed the shotgun and fired. There was a tumultuous explosion followed by a single shout. The man went down.

The other brother yelled, ‘
Zaaach
,’ then more gunfire boomed from Bishop’s right.

He ducked down again, swept a chair out of the way and crawled under the next table, moving closer to the front of the diner. He racked the pump and the empty shell flew out the ejector port. As he crawled he quickly scanned the floor of the diner, looking for a pair of feet that wasn’t Strickland’s.

There.
About five feet to the right of the front door. A pair of shoes with the toes pointing in his direction. He was a good fifteen feet away from Bishop’s own position. Bishop brought the Mossberg round and was about to fire when the shoes’ owner let loose a half-dozen shots of his own.

Bishop felt the table above him shake as the bullets hit and he saw a couple of rounds ricochet off the floor just inches in front of his nose.

He aimed the shotgun at the feet and fired. He racked the pump and fired again. At the same place. Then once more. The smoke from the gun blasts immediately obscured his view and he waved it away. A second later he saw a human shape lying in a heap on the floor. Bishop quickly backed out from under the table and jumped to his feet, keeping the shotgun pointed at the fallen man.

Tyler lay on his back with his eyes open. Blood covered most of his legs and midsection. He raised a bloody arm off the floor and then it slowly fell back onto his chest. Bishop racked the pump again and the spent shell flew out the side port. He aimed the gun at the man, but he was no longer moving. He wasn’t even breathing.

Bishop turned to his left and saw the other one, Zach, about ten feet away. He was lying on his stomach and also not moving. Bishop manoeuvred himself between the tables and went over and crouched down next to him. As he felt the man’s carotid artery, he shouted, ‘Strickland, you hurt?’

‘Bishop?’ Strickland called out.

‘It’s me.’ He couldn’t find a pulse in Zach’s neck. ‘Are you hit?’

‘No, I don’t think so. Jesus
Christ
.’

Bishop stood up and went over to the other one again. Tyler was still in the same position, both eyes still staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. Bishop looked around, saw a Colt Automatic lying on the floor a few feet away. He was about to pick it up when he paused and decided it would be better to just leave it where it was. Then he went back to the booth and retrieved his glasses while Strickland emerged from under the table.

‘You get ’em both?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ Bishop turned and looked at Toby lying on the floor. Strickland got to his feet and joined him.

The owner had managed to pull the knife from his side, but it had made little difference in the end. His partners had managed to get a couple of good ones in. One bullet had taken him in the centre of the chest, while another one had got him in the right shoulder. The man’s off-white apron and most of the shirt underneath was almost entirely crimson. There was also a large puddle of blood on the floor around him. Yet the man was still breathing somehow. It came in short rasps, but he wasn’t dead, at least not yet.

Toby groaned, then whispered, ‘Am … Ambulance.’

Bishop slowly shook his head. ‘Can’t help you there, Toby. Wouldn’t make any difference, anyway. Not with that chest wound.’

‘You made your own bed,’ Strickland said. ‘You should have just left us alone.’

There was the sound of a vehicle whizzing by outside. It didn’t even slow as it passed.

Toby closed his eyes. Opened them again. ‘Wa … water,’ he whispered.

The man’s breaths were getting shorter. Bishop knew he had minutes left, if that. Bishop didn’t particularly feel sorry for the guy, but he didn’t hate him, either. He was just one more greedy loser whose mistakes had finally caught up with him, and his last wish on this earth was for a simple drink of water before he died.

‘Go get him some from the kitchen,’ Bishop said.

‘Screw him,’ Strickland said. ‘He was ready to sell us out quick enough. Besides, we got our own problems. Let’s just get the hell out of here.’

‘Just get him some water, will you? It’s easy enough.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Strickland said, and marched off to the kitchen.

Bishop stayed where he was and watched the man slowly bleed out. It wasn’t pleasant, but he’d seen worse. Caused worse, too. Thirty seconds later Strickland was walking back from the kitchen with a glass of clear liquid in his hand when Toby coughed a couple of times and gave a long slow exhale. And he didn’t breathe in again. Nothing dramatic about it, but there rarely was.

‘Never mind,’ Bishop said. ‘He’s gone.’ He crouched down, felt for a pulse and found none. He then shifted the body and pulled the Glock from the man’s rear waistband and stood up.

Strickland had already drunk the glass of water. ‘So now we go?’

‘Not just yet,’ Bishop said.

After making sure the front door was latched, Bishop searched for the light switches and then turned them all off, plunging the diner into semi-darkness. He could still see his way around well enough, but nobody would be able to see in.

After wiping his prints off the Mossberg, he went back to Toby and placed the dead man’s hands around the grip before dropping the gun on the floor a couple of feet away. He was pretty sure neither shotgun nor rifles left gunshot residue on the shooter’s hands, but if he was wrong Toby would already have them on his, since he’d shot first. He left Zach’s and Tyler’s guns where their owners had dropped them.

Watching him work, Strickland said, ‘I can’t even imagine what the cops’ll make of all this.’

‘I don’t care what they make of it,’ Bishop said, still kneeling. ‘All that matters is that we were never here.’

‘No argument there. You want me to grab the keys to the pick-up?’

‘Probably not a good idea,’ Bishop said and looked at him.

Strickland paused, then nodded. ‘We take their car, then how did they get here in the first place, right?’

‘Exactly. Go check what’s in the garage while I finish wiping our prints from this place. And make sure you use a rag before you touch anything.’ Bishop checked Toby’s pants pockets, and when he felt a large set of keys he pulled them out and tossed them to Strickland. ‘Go via the back door, just in case anybody passes by outside.’