Back Track (16 page)

He got to his feet again and saw the wide fissure started about a foot from the floor, with jagged metal lining the edges like Stone Age knives. Bishop ran straight at it and dived through, rolling when he hit the ground on the other side. He slammed against one of the wheel dollies and got up and ran for the fence. He climbed up and over, then kept running, making for that dirt track he’d seen before. A few seconds later he got to the sagebrush and dropped to the ground, still coughing.

He looked back and saw flames poking through the gap along with the smoke. Even in the darkness, he could see an immense dark cloud hovering over the building. Then there was another explosion, like before. Then another. The oxyacetylene tanks. Had to be.

Finally, the coughing subsided and Bishop got his breath back. There hadn’t been any more explosions. All he could hear was the faint crackle of flames from inside the building.

Then he heard sirens. In the distance. But obviously coming this way. Somebody must have seen the smoke and called 911. Which meant this whole area would be crawling with emergency services pretty soon. Including the police. And they couldn’t find him here. A suspicious-looking stranger near a burning building in the middle of the night was every cop’s dream. But which way? The sirens were coming from the north, and if he went south or west the desert would just swallow him up. Which just left this dirt track he was on.

Then he remembered the hard drive in his pocket and pulled it out. If the cops did pick him up they’d confiscate it as evidence for sure. And while he was fairly sure whatever was on there would clear him of any wrongdoing, it was a sure bet they’d never allow him to see the actual footage for himself. Plus it would also open up a whole bunch of questions Bishop had no intention of answering just yet.

Which left just one option.

Bishop stood and turned slowly in a circle as he looked at the ground. There. About ten feet away. There was a large cholla cactus on its own amongst the sage, with a few rocks close by on the right. He walked over and studied them. The largest was about a foot long at its widest diameter. He knelt down and hefted it. Weighed about twenty-five pounds. Putting it down, he noticed one of the smaller rocks had a pointed edge on one side and he used it to start digging into the hard desert soil.

When he was done, Bishop took out the hard drive and placed it carefully in the two-inch deep hole. Then he filled it in and placed the large rock on top. Good enough. The sirens were only a few blocks away now. He could already see the flashing lights in the distance. He needed to move. The more distance he could put between himself and this place, the better.

He started walking east along the dirt track and saw it made a gradual turn northwards. He stayed with it, took the turn and stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine somewhere in front of him. He stood motionless and listened. Higher than usual RPM. As though the car was in too low a gear for its speed. Then a vehicle suddenly appeared from the left about a hundred yards up ahead. Must be another road down there. There were no headlights. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it was travelling in reverse. He watched it move across the landscape, then it turned onto the dirt track, still with its back to him. And it kept coming his way. All he could see was a dark shape and the two reversing lights on either side as they got closer and closer.

Even after what he’d just been through, this was definitely one of the weirdest things Bishop had seen in a while. Whoever was driving sure knew how to handle a car. He just stood there and waited, curious to see what happened next.

When it was twenty feet away, the brake lights came on and the car skidded to a complete stop. Then the rear lights disappeared, leaving the vehicle in darkness. Over the din of the approaching sirens, he could hear the engine idling. Then the passenger door opened. The interior lights didn’t come on, but he could still make out a shape in the driver’s seat.

Bishop walked towards the car and when he reached the door bent his head and looked inside.

The driver was female. She was calmly staring back at him with large, dark eyes and an unreadable expression on her face. From the lights in the dash, Bishop could see it was the same Latino woman who’d been checking him out in the diner earlier. Wearing a denim-type shirt and jeans, she looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail.

She revved the engine once and said, ‘I don’t have all night, Bishop. You getting in or not?’

Bishop raised his eyebrows at the sound of his name. Then he got in.

Bishop buckled his seat belt while the woman took off down the track at a steady 30 mph. She still hadn’t turned her headlights on. There were no lights around here and the existing cloud cover meant navigating by moonlight was almost impossible.
Almost
being the operative word. Bishop figured her night vision must be phenomenal. He’d once read that people who suffered from colour blindness often see better in the dark, and wondered if that explained it.

She gave him a quick glance and said, ‘Nothing to say at all?’

He let out a long breath and looked at the dash clock. 01.29. ‘Mostly, I’m trying to figure out how you know my name.’

‘I have my ways.’

‘Uh huh. So you going to tell me yours, or shall I just call you Mystery Girl?’

‘Clarissa Vallejo, at your service,’ she said, and downshifted. She took a left turn and few seconds later they were on smooth asphalt with the occasional house passing by on either side. Bishop could also see some streetlights way off in the distance. She took another look at him and said, ‘What’s that smile for?’

‘Nothing. I just never figured my guardian angel would be turn out to be Mexican.’

‘Mexican
American
, if you don’t mind. We live in politically correct times.’

‘Right. So where are you taking me?’

‘Where do you
want
me to take you?’

So he was being given a choice. That was promising. Bishop thought for a few seconds and decided it might be best to avoid Selina’s apartment this evening. Or morning. No point in tempting fate. ‘You know any decent motels around here?’ he asked.

‘Well, the one I’m staying at isn’t too bad, and there seem to be plenty of vacancies. It’s just a couple of miles outside of town on Route 60.’

Bishop frowned at her. ‘You’re at a motel? I had you down as a local.’

‘How’d you figure that?’

‘You seem to know your way around this place pretty well. And in the dark, too.’ When she didn’t respond, he said, ‘But a motel outside of town sounds perfect right now.’

She snorted. ‘Yeah, I expect it does. You could definitely do with a shower. Have you seen yourself?’

Bishop swivelled the rear-view round and a stranger stared back at him. One with a black and white face. The soot stains started halfway up his nose and continued up into his hairline, while the part of his face that had been covered by the bandana was practically unmarked. He looked down at himself and saw that his previously white shirt was also dark with soot and torn in several places. And he reeked of smoke. Yeah, a shower might be a good idea at that.

‘So was it you who called in the cavalry?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. Took me a while to find you, but once I spotted the smoke I just followed that and figured you’d be at the end of it. I spent a long time trying to find a way in, but after realizing it was completely impossible I dialled 911. Man, that place was locked up
tight
. I was round the other side when I heard the explosions and figured that was you making your escape. How’d you get out in the end?’

Bishop told her about the old fuel pumps at the side of the building, then said, ‘Why were you looking for me?’

‘I’m your guardian angel, aren’t I?’

‘I don’t believe in guardian angels, Vallejo.’ He watched her for a moment. ‘I like the way you get round my questions without actually answering them. Is that a special skill you learned somewhere or is it an inherent thing?’

‘A little of both, probably.’

‘So how long you been keeping tabs on me? Since the diner?’

‘Uh huh.’ Vallejo came to an intersection, stopped and looked both ways. Bishop remembered the map from the library. The next intersection up ahead would put them on Saracen Road. But instead, Vallejo finally switched on her lights and turned right on Christchurch. Bishop had yet to see another moving vehicle on the streets.

‘What’d you do? Place a tracer under my car?’

She nodded as she drove. ‘At Bannings’ place. I waited in my car and watched you talk with that waitress, then followed you from there to the library, and then to the garage. I saw how you got into that medical centre in Garrick, by the way. Have you ever tried doing anything the easy way? You know, with
out
breaking the law?’

Bishop shrugged. ‘Laws are useful, but sometimes they can slow things down. Speaking of which, most concerned citizens would have suggested dropping me at the police station by now. That’d be the next logical step for somebody in my position.’

‘You want me to take you there now?’

Bishop looked out the window. ‘Not really. I don’t have much faith in the police solving my problems.’

Vallejo took a left, then drove up to the Saracen Road intersection and waited. They’d passed by the main section of town now and were still the only car on the streets. She pulled out and kept on in a northerly direction. ‘Why’s that?’ she asked in a light tone.

‘I had some bad experiences with them a while back. And the few I’ve met since haven’t altered my opinion of them. I find the less we have to do with each other, the happier I am.’

‘In that case,’ Vallejo said, ‘we might have problems.’

Bishop slowly turned to look at her. All of a sudden he was glad he’d taken the trouble to hide the hard drive. ‘Am I under arrest?’ he asked.

She gave a smile. ‘Why, you kill anybody recently?’

‘Not recently, no.’

Vallejo glanced at him briefly before turning her attention back to the road. ‘I wish I could tell whether you’re joking or not. Still, I’m pretty sure it wasn’t you who started that fire back there and that’s all I care about at the moment.’

‘That’s a load off my mind. So who the hell are you?’

‘Well, if you want my full title, it’s Officer Clarissa Vallejo, but I couldn’t arrest you even if I wanted to. You’re completely out of my jurisdiction for a start.’

‘Which is where?’

‘A place called Corvallis, in Oregon.’

‘I’ve heard of it. So what’s the other reason? You get pulled off active duty or something?’

Vallejo was silent as they came up to the turnoff for Route 60. She turned left and said, ‘Suspended.’

‘Suspended, huh? Why, you kill somebody?’

‘Touché. Why don’t we wait until we get to the motel, and then we’ll talk some more. Unless you want to crash first, that is.’

‘I think I can stay awake a while longer,’ he said and turned his attention to the road ahead. Beyond the headlights all he could see was darkness. He found the melody from that old song ‘What a Difference a Day Makes’ running through his head. A guy he’d interviewed this afternoon gets murdered a few hours later. And Bishop would have been all set to join him, but for those fuel pumps outside. But the fact that somebody wanted him dead meant he was getting somewhere, and in less time than he could have imagined. It was a shame poor Hewitt had to pay the price, but Bishop could hardly be blamed for that.

And now this cop. He wondered just what Vallejo’s interest in him was. And if she already knew his name, how much more did she know? He generally liked to keep as low a profile as possible, but a little research would have unearthed his recent past easily enough. Nobody was safe from the internet these days. Bishop certainly wasn’t.

‘That’s it up ahead,’ Vallejo said.

Bishop had already spotted the tall sign in the distance, all lit up. As they got closer he could make out the name,
Amber Motel
, laid out in a hand-drawn typeface.

Vallejo pulled in to the court and stopped the car just past the office. She turned to him and shook her head. ‘Bishop, you do look a sight. Maybe I should sign you in, huh?’

‘Good idea. How much are the rooms?’

‘Forty-five dollars a night.’

He pulled two crumpled twenties and a five from his pocket and handed them over. She got out and he turned in his seat to see her press the buzzer. After about thirty seconds, the office lights came on and a young Asian guy came and unlocked the door. Bishop turned back and studied the layout of the place. It looked like a throwback to the 1950s. Besides the front office, he counted about twenty rooms laid out to form three sides of a square. Parking spaces in front of the rooms. In the middle of it all was an enclosed pool with two large palm trees at each end. The only other vehicle was an old Lincoln parked next to the office.

Soon, the driver’s door opened and Vallejo got back in. She handed him a key with a large
8
on the fob and said, ‘If anybody asks, you’re Raymond Vallejo, my stepbrother.’

‘Whatever you say, sis.’

‘And don’t call me “sis”.’

She drove to the far corner of the square and parked in front of his room. They both got out and he saw her approach the door to No. 7.

‘Come by when you’re ready,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave the door unlocked.’

As Bishop dried himself off he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked presentable again, even if he felt dead on his feet. He gazed at the ancient pink scar on his shoulder. Jenna had once said it looked like the outline of a gecko lizard sitting there, waiting to pounce, although Bishop had never been able to see it. But now he could finally make out the basic shape, distorted though it was. Like one of the Magic Eye pictures where the image is right there in front of you all the time. You just need to look.

Ditching the ruined shirt, Bishop donned the rest of his clothes and knocked twice on Vallejo’s door. When he heard a voice say ‘Come in’ he entered a room that was the same as his, but in reverse. Tiled floors, double bed, TV, fridge. A table and two chairs by the window. Bathroom at the rear. Like seventy-five per cent of motel rooms everywhere. Vallejo was sitting on the bed with her back propped up by two pillows, watching him as she sipped from a glass tumbler. The TV was tuned into some wildlife programme, but with the sound muted.