The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (17 page)

When the pilot made no effort to move the control yoke, Bishop motioned with the Glock and said, ‘That was me being reasonable, Charlie. Don’t tip me the other way. Take us down,
now
.’

Charlie swallowed, then pushed the control stick forward and began their descent.

As soon as Charlie killed the Skyhawk’s engine, Bishop reached past him and pulled the keys from the slot, just in case he got any ideas. At least the landing had been a fairly smooth one, despite the less-than-perfect terrain. He had to admit the guy was a pretty good pilot.

Charlie had managed to land them in the middle of a vast dry cornfield, with similar-sized fields surrounding them in every direction. No snow flurries yet, thankfully, but with less than a fortnight before ski season started it was surely only a matter of days. Far off in the distance, to the north and west, Bishop could see low mountains covered with evergreens. There was a long treeline about a mile to the south, with nothing but flatlands to the west. And no visible sign of habitation anywhere. No farmhouses, no barns, nothing. Just long-dormant farmland everywhere you looked.

And no means of transport other than their own feet.

So much for being ahead of the game,
he thought.

‘Great,’ Strickland said from behind him. ‘Stuck in the middle of nowhere again.’

‘Look on the bright side,’ Bishop said, ‘we just covered five hundred miles in four hours. That’s not so bad.’

‘Shit, there’s no bright side to
any
of this. Come on, let’s get going.’

Bishop opened the door on his side and got out of the plane and stretched, rolling his shoulders one way then the other, getting rid of the stiffness. Under his feet, the earth felt dry and hard and as solid as rock. It also wasn’t quite as cold as he’d expected. Maybe somewhere in the mid-forties, so at least they wouldn’t have to worry about freezing to death. The sky was still overcast, though, and he figured they still had a couple of hours’ daylight left. Maybe less. As Strickland pushed the passenger seat forward to give himself enough room to get out, Bishop went over to the baggage hold and from it grabbed the long coil of rope he’d seen before. Then he approached the pilot’s door and pulled it open. Charlie just sat there and stared back at him with a worried expression. His skin had turned a lot paler in the last few minutes too. The poor guy really thought Bishop might waste him. He really hated scaring the hell out of innocent civilians like this, but he didn’t have any other choice right now.

‘Okay, come on out,’ he said.

‘Why don’t I just stay here?’

‘Just do as I tell you, Charlie.’

Charlie slowly manoeuvred himself out and then just stood next to the door. Bishop reached down behind him to slide the pilot’s seat forward a few inches. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘turn round and face the plane, hands behind your back.’

‘You ain’t gonna shoot me?’

Bishop sighed. ‘No, Charlie, I’m going to tie you up, like I told you. That’s what the rope’s for. You’ll stay here. We’ll go away. Sometimes life
can
be that simple, you know.’

‘We don’t have time for this,’ Strickland said. ‘Just do what he says, Charlie.’

The pilot exhaled and turned round, then Bishop pulled both his arms back and went to work with the rope. A few minutes later, he had the pilot’s arms, hands and feet bound to his satisfaction. He then carefully placed Charlie in the back seat and fastened the safety belt too, so he couldn’t move around too much. He didn’t bother gagging the guy. Nobody was likely to hear him out here anyway.

‘I’ll stick the keys behind those tools in the hold,’ Bishop said.

‘Hey, you really just gonna leave me tied up like this? I could die out here.’

‘I doubt it. I made sure those knots aren’t impossible to get through. Might take you a few hours, but with a little patience and effort you’ll be able to free yourself easily enough. Then you can fly to that same little airport you were taking us to, refuel and head on home.’ He paused. ‘And now I’ve got a favour to ask, Charlie.’

The pilot’s mouth hung open. He looked at Bishop as though he’d just produced a set of encyclopaedias from his nose. ‘A favour? From
me
?’

‘That’s right. When the cops question you I’d like you to tell them that the two men who hijacked you wore baseball caps, dark glasses and false beards and moustaches, and you couldn’t really tell what they looked like under all that crap. Can you do that?’

Despite being tied up Charlie actually looked a little more confident now, or at least less worried about his ultimate fate. It had obviously gotten through to him that he was going to live through this. ‘I guess so,’ he said, ‘but why would I?’

Bishop rolled up his jacket sleeve, undid his watchband and removed his timepiece. ‘This is a Seiko Prospex scuba watch that was given to me recently by somebody I did a favour for. I’ve been told it’s worth about one-and-a-half grand new. This one’s a couple of months old, but you should be able to get seven or eight hundred for it on eBay. That’s enough to take care of the fuel costs both ways, as well as your time. And to earn it all you have to do is say you couldn’t see us clearly. Not much to ask, is it?’

Charlie studied him for a few moments, then said, ‘Eight hundred bucks, huh?’

‘Maybe more.’

‘I guess I could do that. Okay, gimme the watch and we got a deal.’

‘Good man,’ Bishop said, and laid the watch on the floor at Charlie’s feet. When he backed out, he saw Strickland standing there holding the knapsack, watching them both.

‘And you’ll just trust him to keep his word?’ he said.

Bishop shrugged. ‘He will or he won’t. Trust has to start somewhere, and Charlie strikes me as an honest man.’

He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the remaining bottles of water. It was half-full. Or half-empty, depending on your outlook. He left the bottle on the front seat and said to the pilot, ‘For when you get yourself free. The rest of the rations go with us. We’ll need them more than you.’

Charlie just looked at each of them, then said, ‘I got one question.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Just what the hell did you
do
?’

Bishop shook his head. ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question these last few hours. Just remember our deal, Charlie.’

He shut the door. Strickland hefted the knapsack over his shoulder and both men started walking south, towards the treeline in the distance.

‘So where the hell are we?’ Strickland asked.

‘As near as I can tell we’re about halfway across Colorado, so probably in Grand County somewhere. From the air I saw that treeline marks the beginning of some woodland that keeps going for another mile or so. I also spotted a reservoir, or a lake, along the way with a river leading off from it on a north-easterly direction. The bad news is it’s right in our path. I just hope there’s a bridge somewhere so we can get across.’

‘And some wheels.’

‘Yeah, some wheels, too.’

They trudged on in silence for a while. The field wasn’t too bad for walking in. The land was flat, more or less. It could have been worse.

‘Pretty funny, huh?’ Strickland said after a while.

Bishop turned to him. ‘What is?’

‘Me rushing to my death like this. Hard to believe that thirty-six hours from now I’ll be a goner.’

‘Nothing’s set in stone. Anything can still happen.’

‘I never knew you were an optimist, Bishop.’

‘You could fill a book with what you don’t know about me.’

‘So where’d this positive outlook of yours come from?’

‘What difference does it make?’

‘Not much. But we got a long walk ahead of us. Why not just tell me?’

Bishop shrugged. ‘There’s nothing complicated about it. It just makes more sense to be positive than not. Go into anything with a negative attitude, you’re already planning to fail before you’ve even started. What’s the point of that? In fact, what’s the point of anything? You might as well just curl up and die. A guy call Sun Tzu once said, “
He who’s prepared and waits for the unprepared will be victorious
”. I find that’s a pretty good mantra to live life by.’

‘Kind of like hope for the best, but prepare for the worst, right?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘But that second part isn’t exactly positive, is it? Preparing for the worst? Sounds to me like you’re already setting yourself up for a fall there.’

‘No, it’s saying you shouldn’t keep your head in the clouds, either. Nothing’s plain sailing. There are always obstacles. All you can do is prepare for them as best you can, then deal with them when they come.’

‘And you really believe this can end on an up note for me?’

‘It’s a little too early to tell, but I’m still open-minded. Ask me again tomorrow, once I’ve given it some more thought.’

‘Assuming I’m still breathing by then. Look, Bishop, you’ll make sure Barn’s okay, right? Because whatever happens to me, Barney needs to be alive at the end of this. With Carrie …’ He paused and gave a small sigh. ‘With Carrie out of the picture and me at the end of a very short rope, his life’s all that matters to me now.’

‘I’ll make sure Barney’s all right, don’t worry about that.’

‘Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.’ Strickland faced front again and they continued walking.

Bishop slowed to a stop when he saw the building about a mile away in the distance. It looked like a farmhouse, two storeys, with an old-style brick grain silo rising up on the left, and a large barn set a little ways back. There were a lot more trees in that direction too, many of them surrounding the property. Bishop figured whoever lived there probably owned the land they’d been walking on for the last three miles.

‘What do you think?’ Strickland asked.

‘I think since we’re out in the middle of nowhere, it’s a good bet there’ll be at least one useful vehicle on site. Other than a tractor, I mean.’

‘Think they’ll be good enough to let us borrow it?’

‘I wasn’t planning on asking for permission.’

They continued on. They’d already been walking for about half an hour and the sky hadn’t gotten any darker. Since Bishop no longer had a watch he had to guess, but he figured it was probably around four thirty, so maybe another hour and a half until nightfall.

Ten minutes later Bishop reached the first of the trees, a mixture of oaks and birches that surrounded the property perimeter. Standing under cover of one of the larger oaks, he took a moment to study the white clapboard farmhouse a hundred feet away from them.

They’d approached from the side, and at the front he could see a long wide porch with wooden columns, with a swinging seat hanging from chains at one end. The house itself didn’t look particularly new, but it looked well cared for. Somebody had given the place a new coat of white paint recently, maybe even in the last couple of months. There were no lights on inside, though, and Bishop couldn’t hear any animal noises at all, which was odd. Not even a dog. There was also a large empty courtyard out front, but no vehicles in sight.

Directly opposite, with the doors facing them, was the large barn. It was the same white as the farmhouse, and probably housed the tractor, baler, and whatever other pieces of farm machinery were needed to keep the place going. And hopefully also a vehicle they could actually use. The double doors were the kind that slid apart, like those on aircraft hangars except much smaller. Just above the doors were two small hayloft windows.

About twenty feet away from their position there was a chest-high cyclone fence that circled the property. Bishop didn’t see any insulator poles, though, which meant it wasn’t electrified. When he reached the fence he climbed over and waited for Strickland to join him. There were some more trees on this side of the fence and Bishop led the way to one and said to Strickland, ‘You stay under cover here while I circle round front and check the barn.’

Without another word, Bishop left him and followed the fence until he came to a long, wooden entrance gate. This had to be the front of the property. Beyond the gate, he could see the dirt driveway carried on down a gentle slope before disappearing between some more trees. Presumably it led towards a back road, or more likely a dirt track. But a road was a road. Bishop took a moment to check the gate wasn’t locked, and then kept walking along the perimeter until he came to the side of the barn facing away from the house.

He was still waiting for the sound of a barking dog to break the silence. Or something. But he heard nothing, and saw nothing, which only put him on guard even more.

Bishop edged along the side of the barn and, when he reached the corner, peered round for a better look. He saw there were sliders at the top of the double doors and a metal rail at the bottom for the wheels. In the centre he saw two steel handles affixed to the doors, but no padlock. Knowing he’d be in full view of anybody looking out of the house, Bishop trotted over to the centre, grabbed the handle of the right-hand door and pushed it to the right. The door began to slide open. Fortunately, the caster wheels weren’t too noisy. When he’d made a space big enough, Bishop slipped inside the barn.

He waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust, but the small windows in the hayloft above helped shed light on the situation. Looking around, he saw two large tractors at rest next to each other. Both looked old and well used. Further back, he also saw three old trailers, a large cultivator, a planter, and something that looked like a grain cart. There was also a selection of old machine parts and used tyres piled up at the rear of the barn.

But the machine that really caught his attention was the pick-up, an old square-bodied Chevy Cheyenne, standing on its own. A real relic from the seventies, it looked in even worse shape than the tractors. The cab was one of those with space enough for a driver and a single passenger. There was plenty of rust on the body, and at some point a large galvanized plate had been riveted onto the side of the bed.