The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (24 page)

But for what possible motive? Money? Bishop didn’t think so in this case. Sure, marshals were human and susceptible to the same temptations as everyone else, but Lomax would surely have known that he was setting up his colleagues for certain death, and no amount of cash would have been able to wipe that kind of betrayal away. Some people could do it. Bishop had worked alongside one or two who easily fit the profile, but Lomax really hadn’t seemed the sociopathic type. Not with that look in his eyes when he’d been thinking about his dog back home.

But it didn’t have to be money. What if his wife, Karen, was the motive?

What if Hartnell ordered some of his men to grab the wife in order to put pressure on the husband? He knew from recent personal experience that a man would do almost anything to protect those he loves, maybe even sell out his whole team.

On top of which, there was that tense phone call Bishop had woken up to. Delaney had given him a very reasonable explanation at the time, but what if there was more to the call than basic marital suspicion and mistrust? Since Hartnell already knew their location at that point, maybe Lomax was being given some last-minute instructions. That would certainly help explain the hidden keys in the SUV. Because Delaney was a pro, and a pro would have gone through the house and checked and rechecked everything on a continual basis. And she would have definitely noticed if the keys to the SUV weren’t in the ignition where they were supposed to be. So maybe Lomax had been instructed to get rid of the keys as a final insurance to prevent anybody getting out. And since Lomax knew Delaney’s habits, maybe he’d played it safe and had the keys simply ‘fall’ and get lodged under the floor mat instead.

Maybe, maybe, maybe
.

It was a pretty good theory, but that’s all it was right now. And Bishop couldn’t exactly do anything about it anyway, at least not yet. He already had enough to worry about, such as getting them all through the rest of the day.

Bishop finished his breakfast and moved his empty plate to the side. He’d been a lot hungrier than he’d originally thought, and Toby hadn’t skimped on the portions either. He poured himself more coffee and watched Clea pick at her omelette unenthusiastically. Strickland was almost done with his. As for the other customers, the elderly couple had settled their bill and left already, with the two guys at the counter following them shortly after. Nobody else had come in since they’d arrived.

Maybe business would pick up later on, although Bishop kind of doubted it. It was starting to get light outside, and Bishop noticed a faint ground fog rolling in from the surrounding fields, making it hard to see anything beyond the empty road out front.

Strickland finally put down his fork and said, ‘There’s still one thing I can’t get my head around.’

‘Only one thing?’ Bishop said.

Strickland gave a thin smile. ‘Just this one for now. And that’s what the hell made you join up with us in the first place. I don’t get it. What was in it for you?’

‘If you must know, Delaney said she’d owe me a favour once it was over.’

Strickland shook his head. ‘That’s not it. Delaney told me she made you that offer when she came to see you before and you turned her down then. Yet a few days later you shoot me with that damned paint pellet and decide you want to join up, after all. So what made you change your mind?’

Bishop thought for a moment. He briefly considered fobbing Strickland off with another line, but instead he said, ‘Paul Mechner.’

‘Come again?’

‘Take a moment. Does that name mean anything to you?’

Strickland’s brow became furrowed as he thought it over. ‘Paul Mechner … Paul Mechner.’ Then recognition dawned and he patted the table with a palm. ‘The accountant. Hartnell’s accountant. Or one of them, at least.’

‘Correct.’

‘But that’s, what, almost ten years ago. Just a few months after I started with Hartnell, in fact.’ He studied Bishop. ‘And this Mechner was something to you?’

‘He was one of my very first protection assignments.’

‘Whoa.’ Strickland pulled his head back. ‘Seriously?’

Bishop still remembered it all like it was yesterday. He wasn’t much for backward thinking, but whenever he did go into recall mode the past invariably came back to life in dazzling detail, with barely any blurring around the edges at all.

He’d been working in RoyseCorp’s close protection division for just under eleven months when he got promoted to team leader, which was a company record, apparently. And his very first assignment in the new role had been to head a team to safeguard an overweight accountant and his wife. Except this wasn’t just any old accountant.

For over five years Paul Mechner had been a trusted employee of Felix Hartnell, one of the most successful and wealthiest cocaine distributors in the country. Mechner hadn’t known that when he’d first taken the job, but he figured it out pretty soon after, once he saw the vast sums of money that kept pouring in week after week. That kind of money only ever came from one source, and it was Mechner’s particular speciality to find new ways to launder it. It seemed he was very good at it, too, despite hating every second. Until that point he’d always been a law-abiding man, but he knew that when you worked for Felix Hartnell you couldn’t just up and quit when you felt like it.

So Mechner gritted his teeth and put up with it for five long years, all the while keeping the truth from his wife, Emily. At some point he decided he deserved some recompense for the years of sleepless nights, so near the end he’d simply made a few minor adjustments in the books and siphoned off a few bucks for himself as a kind of unofficial safety net in case things ever went south. Unfortunately, not long after, a colleague tipped him off that Hartnell suspected something was up and that Mechner was under suspicion.

The accountant didn’t waste any time. He knew all the stories about Hartnell by this point, had even gone to his house a few times to make occasional reports, and the man scared him to death. After finally explaining the full situation to Emily, he’d argued the only way they could escape Hartnell’s influence and what he felt was certain death was by getting them new identities and making new lives for themselves overseas. Money wouldn’t be a problem. After some long and heated arguments, Emily finally agreed to stand with her man.

They hid out in Oklahoma City, somewhere neither of them had ever even visited before, although Emily’s parents
had
originally come from Duncan, a town situated about a hundred miles south-west of the city. Once there, Mechner used his few contacts to arrange new identities for himself and Emily, along with new passports and all the rest. But since it was all under the counter and had to be done just right, it would also take time. And Hartnell was sure to start looking for him soon, if he wasn’t already. So Mechner decided to hire some professionals to keep them safe while they waited for their documents, and that’s where RoyseCorp came in. The price was high, but their rep was second to none. And Bishop, along with his handpicked four-man team, was given the assignment.

He’d seconded them in one of the company’s safe houses in Fayetteville, Arkansas, and life was pretty quiet for two weeks. Bishop always accompanied Mechner or his wife whenever they needed to go out for whatever reason. But mostly they stayed in, patiently waiting for the preparations for their new lives to be finalized.

Mechner was okay in Bishop’s book. Sure, he was an embezzler, but since the victim was a sleazebag Bishop didn’t hold that against him. In fact Bishop actually liked the guy, which was a rare treat as most of his principals thus far hadn’t exactly been citizens of the year. And that’s why he’d tried to convince the accountant to forget about all that new identity stuff, to take what he knew to the feds and go into the Witness Protection Program instead.

He still remembered the conversation in the kitchen, word for word …

‘
Hartnell would find me eventually if I stayed in this country
,’
Mechner had said in response,
‘
no matter what name the feds gave me, he’d find me. Believe me, that guy’s got people in every state and in every town and in every alley. No, I’ve thought it all through and this is the best way. Once he knows I’m not talking to anyone, hopefully he’ll just call off the dogs and forget about us.
’

‘
You really believe that?
’
Bishop had said
.
‘
Knowing what you do about the man?
’

‘
Depends on the time of day.
’
Mechner smiled then. He sipped at his ever-present can of Dr Pepper and said
,
‘
Funny thing is, I’ve already got something on him and he doesn’t even know it. I locked it away in a safe place before I called you people, but I know that if it ever got out it would cause serious problems for Hartnell. And I mean
serious
.
’

‘
All the more reason to take it to the feds and turn state’s evidence.
’

‘
It wouldn’t work that way. It’s not the kind of thing that would stand up in any court of law.
’

‘
So what is it then?
’

‘
It’s an audio cassette recording in which Hartnell talks about how he manipulated his business partner over a personal matter. It’s there as my last resort, only to be used if I’ve run out of all other options. I do have some paperwork I took out with me, mostly to do with the laundering side of things, but it’s not nearly enough to convict him. He’s too careful for that, and never puts his name to anything.
’

‘
You won’t know until you talk to the feds. I say it’s worth a try. New name or not, I don’t think Hartnell’s the kind of man who gives up once he starts something. He’ll keep looking until he finds you, and we can’t protect you forever. Maybe the feds can.
’

‘
No. I want to do this my way,’
Mechner said.
‘Believe me, I’ve planned it all out to the smallest detail. I’m sure we’ll be all right …
’

Bishop hadn’t been quite so sure, but you couldn’t argue with somebody whose mind was already made up. Knowing what came later, maybe he should have tried a little harder.

He gave Strickland a brief summary of the situation, only omitting the details of that kitchen conversation.

Strickland said, ‘But Hartnell still tracked him down, though, right?’

‘That’s right,’ Bishop said. ‘How much do you know about it?’

Strickland glanced at Clea, who was silently watching them both, then he shrugged. ‘Not a whole lot, and most of it’s just rumours. But I’m sure Callaway was behind it. He never came right out and admitted it to me, but he laid enough hints. Besides, Hartnell wouldn’t have trusted anybody else for the job. So what happened? Did he hit you guys at the safe house?’

‘He tried.’

‘It wasn’t another massacre like Vegas, was it?’

Bishop shook his head. ‘No, that wouldn’t have worked where we were. We were in a much more heavily populated suburban neighbourhood, which was part of the reason I picked it. Or maybe Hartnell simply wasn’t as desperate back then. No, they used the Trojan Horse method instead.’

‘What? You mean like a parcel bomb or something?’

‘Not quite. What it was, there was a neighbourhood kid of about Barney’s age who lived a couple of houses down. His name was Andrew Truman and he came to the front door shortly after we moved in and asked if he could mow our front- and backyards for a few bucks. I’d already seen him mowing everybody else’s, but our lawn wasn’t too bad at that point and I told him we didn’t need any work done right then. So we chatted some and he said he’d try again in a week or two and went home.’

What Bishop didn’t mention was that he’d chatted to the boy on the doorstep for a good ten minutes or so before he went home. Primarily he’d done it as a way to fit in a little more and deflect any possible suspicion as to their presence in the area, but it turned out he and Andrew actually had a shared passion – soccer. Bishop was an avid follower of the New York Red Bulls, but he still kept up with the doings of some of the more notable European teams like Barcelona, Real Madrid, Inter Milan, and a few others. And Andrew was a major Juventus fan. So much so that his father had even subscribed to an expensive overseas satellite channel in order that his son could watch some of their games.

So they found they had plenty to talk about, discussing the pros and cons of goal-line technology, or the effectiveness of certain managers in elevating their teams to the top level, or how reliable the transfer rumours were concerning certain players. But Bishop had had to call an end to it at some point, and eventually Andrew returned home and that was that.

‘Three weeks later,’ Bishop said, ‘Andrew came back and rang the doorbell and asked me again if he could mow the lawns, and this time I said okay. Only he seemed kind of nervous and distant for some reason, and he wasn’t particularly interested in talking, either, which was very unlike him. But I just put it down to trouble at home and took him to the garage where there was an old mower at the back. So I let him get on with it while I patrolled the house again. It was a big two-storey ranch-type thing with six bedrooms and plenty of space, and it usually took me awhile to check everything to my satisfaction. At the time, Emily Mechner was in the kitchen while her husband was in the bedroom, working on his laptop. I still checked on Andrew’s progress, though, and once he’d done the front I went out and led him through to the backyard. One of the other members of my team, Kwinell, was sitting out there in a deckchair, so I knew he’d be able to keep an eye on the boy from that point on.’

Bishop poured himself some more lukewarm coffee and took another sip. It left a bitter aftertaste. Although maybe that wasn’t entirely down to the coffee.