The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (12 page)

‘Okay, get in,’ Trooper Mateo said, motioning to Bishop with the gun.

Bishop lowered his head and got in the back of the unit. Mateo ordered Strickland to go to the other side and wait while he leaned in and buckled Bishop’s seatbelt. Then he slammed the door shut and went round to Strickland, who was waiting by the other door. He pulled it open and Strickland made a move to get in when Mateo placed a hand against his chest. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘The kid goes in next.’

Through the window, Bishop watched as Trooper Steve, carrying the still-unconscious Barney in both arms, made his way back to them. Bishop used the time to inspect his new surroundings. The windows looked to be the usual reinforced glass. There was a steel mesh partition separating prisoners from those up front, connected to the roof by bolts that could only be accessed from the front. And there were the usual blank metal plates where the door handles and window controls would usually be. Up front, in addition to the scanner and mic, there was an upright shotgun rack next to the centre console on the passenger side. In the rack was a black Remington 870 12-gauge pump.

The other cop finally arrived with Barney. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘The kid seems to be breathing okay, but I can’t wake him up.’

‘I told you,’ Strickland said, ‘he just fainted, that’s all.’

Trooper Mateo ignored him and said to his partner, ‘Just put him in the middle seat and I’ll buckle him in. Once we’ve checked the Toyota we’ll haul ’em all back to the station and take things from there.’

Bishop watched them place the unconscious Barney next to him, while Trooper Mateo made sure the boy’s safety belt was securely fastened. Then it was Strickland’s turn. Finally Trooper Steve shut the door, activated the remote locking mechanism and both cops walked off towards the abandoned SUV, sixty feet away.

Strickland shook his head. ‘Assholes.’

‘I just hope they don’t waste too much time over there,’ Bishop said.

Strickland turned to him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I suspect the perps were also listening in to their call to dispatch and are putting two and two together as we speak. The sooner we get moving, the happier I’ll be.’

Strickland looked out the window in the direction of the cops. Thirty seconds later, he said, ‘
Now
what are they doing?’

Bishop looked past him. The two cops had clearly found nothing in the SUV and had started searching the ground near the vehicle. ‘They figure we must have tossed the weapons. The thing is I actually did throw a speed-loader not too far from where they’re looking.’

‘Well, once they get us to the station house and call the feds it won’t matter what they find.’

‘I know, but it’s still wasting time. We’re too vulnerable out here. We need to get moving, now.’

No more was said for a while. With the sun shining down and all the windows shut, it was hot in the back. Bishop could feel sweat start to drip down the back of his shirt. Barney’s breathing sounded steady and regular, though, which was good. With any luck, when he next woke up he’d be in the middle of a police station with cops all around him.

Three more minutes passed in silence as Troopers Steve and Mateo searched the ground in ever-widening circles. Bishop began to feel more uneasy.

He turned to Strickland and said, ‘I need Barney’s multi-tool again.’

‘Why?’

‘So I can free my hands, that’s why.’ Struggling against the tight seatbelt, Bishop shifted in the seat so he was turned towards the door, then edged back as much as he could until his bound hands came into contact with Barney. He moved his hands down the boy’s shirt and stopped when he reached his jeans, patting the left front pocket and feeling what had to be the boy’s hand-held games console. He then reached behind the boy and checked the left rear pocket and found the adapter, but nothing else.

‘Not there,’ he said. ‘I can’t reach his right-hand pockets. You’ll have to do it.’

With a sigh, Strickland manoeuvred himself until his back was turned and began to pat the front pocket of the boy’s jeans. Almost immediately he said, ‘Yeah, it’s there. Wait one.’ He grunted and shifted his body again for a better angle, then gingerly inserted his left hand into the boy’s pocket. ‘You sure this is a good idea?’ he said. ‘What if those cops search you again?’

‘So what? The worst they can do is confiscate the knife and recuff me. But I don’t like how they’re taking their time over there. It’s making me paranoid.’

‘Why? You think they’re on Hartnell’s payroll, too?’

‘I doubt it. But I don’t like being hog-tied like this. Right now you two are my responsibility and if something does go wrong I want my hands free, just in case. Come on, hurry up.’

‘Hey, give me a break here. I’m going as fast –
wait.
There,
got it
.’

Bishop watched as Strickland slowly pulled the keychain from his son’s pocket. Once it was clear, Bishop said, ‘Okay, toss it towards me. Carefully.’

Strickland turned his head to check Bishop’s position and then flicked his left hand back and let go. The key fob landed on Barney’s left leg and slid off into the space between them. Bishop arched his back and reached his hands down until his fingers felt the keychain on the seat. He grabbed hold of it and faced forward again. By feel alone, he extracted the knife, then leaned his body forward as much as he was able and began working on his left wrist.

It was difficult working blind, but less than two minutes later he brought his freed hands to the front and rubbed at his sore wrists. After placing the keychain back in Barney’s pocket, he glanced out the window again and saw Trooper Mateo talk into his radio and call out to his partner. They started back at last, neither man carrying anything either. Bishop put his hands behind his back again, willing them to move faster.

The two state cops finally reached the cruiser and after unlocking the doors took off their hats and got in. In the driver’s seat, Trooper Steve started the engine, then grabbed the radio mic and reported in. Trooper Mateo turned to look from Bishop to Strickland, then back to Bishop again. He was frowning deeply. ‘I don’t know what to make of you two,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I surely don’t.’

‘Look, it’s very simple,’ Bishop said. ‘The guy on my right is a secret witness under federal protection. The boy is his son. The people he was due to testify against attacked their safe house on Gulliver Street this morning and killed a bunch of US marshals in the process. I was the extra man on the scene and was trying to get these two well away from the danger zone when our vehicle died. Then you found us. That’s it.’

‘Well, that isn’t what dispatch told us.’ With another sigh, he faced front and said, ‘I guess we’ll find out what’s what pretty soon, though. Okay, Steve, let’s get moving.’

‘Right.’ Trooper Steve stepped on the gas and they pulled away.

‘So what was the story dispatch gave you?’ Strickland asked.

Both cops ignored him, which was about par for the course. Bishop sat back and said nothing else. Further talk was pointless until they got to the station.

They continued down the highway at a steady sixty. There was no air con. Or if there was, it wasn’t working. Out of habit, and since there was nothing else to do, Bishop made a careful note of every vehicle that passed them. There weren’t many. At one point, a tan pick-up containing a lone driver went past, closely followed by a black Infiniti, containing two upfront and two more in the back. Bishop noted the licence plates and watched as both vehicles receded into the distance. A minute later, a silver Honda Civic also whizzed by with two male figures in the front. Again, Bishop turned his head and watched the car until it disappeared into the horizon.

He faced forward. Up front the police scanner made various noises, but the volume was turned right down so Bishop couldn’t make out the actual words. Trooper Steve lowered his window. He leaned his left elbow on the frame as he drove. After a while, the other one lowered his, too. A pleasant draught swept through the vehicle’s interior.

At some point, Bishop looked out the rear windshield again. There was a silver car back there. Maybe a hundred feet behind them and closing. Bishop thought it looked like a silver Honda Civic. He was well aware the Civic was one of the most popular vehicle makes in the country and that silver was the most popular colour. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the same car that had passed them a couple of minutes before. He strained to see the numbers on the licence plate, but it was still too far away to make out.

It closed the distance between them to eighty feet. Bishop noticed they were now driving through one of the more changeable sections of the landscape, with shallow hills off to the left and gradual sloping ditches to the immediate right of the road. Sixty feet between them now. And Bishop was finally able to make out the licence plate.

It was the same plate as before. The same car, with the same two men in front.

He faced front and said, ‘You might want to speed up a little, Officers. We’re being followed.’

Strickland turned to look out the back and groaned.

‘Gee, you’re absolutely right,’ Trooper Mateo said, watching his wing mirror. ‘And on a public road, too. Can you believe the nerve of some people?’ He turned to his partner and shook his head gravely. ‘What’s the world coming to?’

‘He’s gaining,’ Strickland said, still looking out the back.

Bishop saw the Civic was accelerating fast. In no time at all it closed the distance between them to twenty feet and then it began veering into the left lane, preparing to overtake. The front passenger window was rolled down and Bishop could see the two men clearly. Two grim faces, the driver staring ahead, the other watching the black and white.

‘Hey,’ Mateo said, ‘these idiots must be doing at least eighty. Are they blind or just stupid? Don’t they see the light bar on the roof?’

‘They see it,’ Bishop said, ‘they just don’t care. Don’t let them come alongside.’

Ignoring him, the trooper pressed a button on the console and the siren suddenly blared out from the roof speakers. With the windows down, the noise was almost deafening.

The driver of the Civic paid no notice. He kept gaining speed until he was level with the patrol car, then slowed a little until he was matching their speed exactly. There was less than three feet of space between the two vehicles.

Bishop brought his hands round to the front, checked Barney’s seatbelt and positioned the boy’s head against his father’s shoulder. ‘Whatever happens next,’ he said, ‘try and keep your muscles relaxed.’

‘Huh? What the hell are you talking about?’

There was no time to explain. Trooper Mateo was already jabbing a finger at the road ahead and glaring at the passenger only a few feet away from him. ‘
Pull over,’
he yelled over the noise of the siren
.
‘
Right now
.’

Bishop saw the passenger in the Civic smile. He kept smiling as he pulled a very large revolver from his lap, aimed it at the cops and pulled the trigger.

The next few moments passed before Bishop with crystal clarity. He could see the gun was a .44 Magnum Colt Anaconda. It was stainless steel with a huge six-inch ventilated-rib barrel, so the guy could feel like Dirty Harry. When Bishop saw the flash and heard the
BOOM,
he knew immediately that the first shot had missed the driver.

It hit his passenger full in the face instead.

Trooper Mateo’s lower face disintegrated into a mass of blood and bone as he slammed against the far door, his body convulsing uncontrollably. Bishop felt tiny droplets of blood spatter against his face. Strickland shouted something. Trooper Steve still hadn’t fully comprehended what had happened. They were still more or less moving in a straight line.

Then the second shot took out the driver.

A whole chunk of Trooper Steve’s head was blown away from the force of the blast. A geyser of blood spurted from the left temple area. His foot reflexively pressed down on the accelerator and his body jerked to the right as far as the seatbelt would allow, while his hands also wrenched the steering wheel hard to the right.

Strickland cried out, and Bishop ducked a microsecond before a third bullet shattered the window next to him. Then the horizon tilted to a thirty-degree angle as the vehicle left the road, still racing at over sixty miles an hour. He saw they were speeding along the uneven incline at the side of the road, descending on a slight gradient, still veering to the right.

They were also totally out of control.

The car rocked up and down as the wheels hit natural bumps in the terrain. Bishop held onto Barney and saw he was still unconscious – the best thing for him at the moment. He felt one of the front wheels collide with something big. There was a loud thump against the axle, then the car suddenly banked to the left and the world shifted on its axis again as the vehicle began to roll over onto its right side.

And kept on rolling.

Strickland cried out again and Bishop lost his grip on Barney and relaxed his body as much as he could. The car passed through a quarter-turn and kept rolling until they were all upside down. Bishop heard the light bar on the roof beneath his head being wrenched off. He saw the roof flatten and warp. The driver’s airbag activated. And still they kept rolling as the vehicle continued speeding down the incline. A three-quarter turn and the front windshield imploded, shattering into a hundred pieces. Small shards of safety glass made their way through the cage grille and rained down on the back of Bishop’s head.

Then the car was upright again, but it continued to turn, flipping over onto its side once more as they continued down the incline at an angle. Through the open windshield he thought he could see the bottom of the incline racing towards them. They were at the second quarter-turn when the window next to Strickland exploded outwards. The car fell back onto its roof again and kept on its course for the bottom of the gradient.