The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (31 page)

‘Are you absolutely sure about that? I mean, you couldn’t be everywhere at once, could you? What if one of Hartnell’s men already knew without a doubt where Luiza was, and simply laid down a few hints to direct the search into that area? Maybe all it took was one whispered remark to one of your men. We both know it doesn’t take much for an idea or a rumour to steadily work its way up the ladder until nobody’s sure where it originated from.’

Guzman sighed. ‘All I am hearing so far are fanciful theories, Señor Bishop, and my patience is nearing its end. Besides, even if I took you seriously, which I do not, what would Hartnell’s motive be for taking Luiza?’

‘Well, Strickland also told me about some rumours going round that you might have been planning to take over Hartnell’s side of the operation before all this. Is there any truth to that?’

Guzman shrugged and said nothing.

‘I’ll take that as a maybe,’ Bishop said. ‘In which case, I think Hartnell decided to get proactive in order to get you on his good side and demonstrate what a worthy friend he could be in a scrape. I’d say helping you find your missing sister and then delivering her supposed murderers right to your door would certainly have helped his case rather than hindered it. Wouldn’t you?’

Guzman’s eyes gave nothing away. ‘Your point?’

‘Okay. I think this cassette of Mechner’s is actual proof of Hartnell’s direct involvement in the kidnapping and murder of your sister.’

‘And?’

‘And I propose that I go out and get it for you,’ Bishop said. ‘Right now.’

Guzman’s smile slowly returned. Bishop wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Probably not. The cartel boss said, ‘And this so-called proof. You know where it is located.’

‘Not exactly,’ Bishop said, ‘but I believe it’s close at hand. I’ve got some ideas.’

Bishop knew if it wasn’t close by then it was all pointless anyway. They were all dead. But he didn’t voice that thought. He was already walking a tightrope as it was, and the slightest gust of wind could send him plummeting.

‘You have some ideas,’ Guzman said without inflection. ‘And if you
do
find this mysterious cassette and bring it to me, and it
is
as you say, what then?’

‘Then you free us and let us go on our way, unharmed.’

‘All three of you.’

‘In this case it has to be all or nothing.’

‘And if I agree to this you will trust me to keep my end of the bargain? Strickland is a very valuable commodity, after all.’

Bishop shrugged. ‘I think you’re a man who once he gives his word, keeps it. I hope you are. Besides, what other choice do I have?’

‘None.’

‘Exactly. Simplifies things from my end, doesn’t it? So what do you think? Do we have a deal?’

After a few moments, Guzman said, ‘And if this evidence is not close by? I can be a patient man, but my patience has its limits.’

‘If it’s not close by then I’m screwed. I know that. But one way or another I have to get Strickland to Ohio by tomorrow morning to have any chance of getting his son back alive, and right now this is my only chance to do that.’

Guzman was silent as he considered. Their lives were completely in his hands now. Bishop turned and saw Clea next to him, eyes closed and biting her lip as she rocked back and forth. Further along, Strickland was watching the laptop screen intently.

Bishop refused to think about Guzman turning him down. That line of thought was pointless. Instead, he contemplated his next step in tracking down Mechner’s evidence – assuming it had anything to do with Guzman at all, of course. But he couldn’t worry about that now. He’d have to make a phone call first. There was a man he’d used before who might be able to help. Bishop concentrated until he was gradually able to recall the guy’s phone number, then he quickly turned his thoughts to the Mechners. And Emily Mechner in particular. He thought back to every conversation he’d had with her, recalling every detail she’d given him about herself.

Guzman’s voice suddenly pulled him back to the present. ‘Geraldo, what is the time there?’

‘Eight twenty-five,
jefe
.’

‘Very well,’ Guzman said. ‘My curiosity has been aroused by your story, Bishop. I have decided to grant you a reprieve. You will locate this tape for me.’

Bishop let out a long breath. Clea finally stopped rocking back and forth.

‘But you have until one o’clock to produce results.’ Guzman continued. ‘That is less than five hours from now. And if they are not forthcoming by that time, then I will have no further need for you or the woman. Do you understand?’

‘Perfectly.’

‘Also, one of my men will also accompany you at all times.’ Geraldo sat up straighter at this, but Guzman said, ‘No, Geraldo, you are to stay there and watch over Strickland and the woman. Who else amongst your team speaks English?’

‘Dario’s English is as good as mine,’ Geraldo said.

‘And which one is he?’

‘The man by the window.’

Bishop turned to the stocky man with the small, hard eyes who’d first greeted them on their arrival. Dario, knowing that he was under the scrutiny of the most powerful man in his world, was practically standing at attention.

‘Dario, you will go with him,’ Guzman said. ‘You will not let him out of your sight. You will also call Geraldo at thirty-minute intervals and give him progress reports. Do you understand?’

‘
Si,
jefe
,’ Dario said, ‘I understand.’

‘You are wasting time, Bishop,’ said Guzman. ‘I suggest you get started.’

Bishop said, ‘I have to make a call first.’

‘Then make it.’

Bishop turned to Clea. ‘I’ll need your cell phone again.’

Clea quickly nodded and reached into her jeans pocket for the cell he’d handed her in the parking lot. Bishop took it and keyed in a Brooklyn number. He brought the phone to his ear and listened to it ring. And ring. And ring.

Finally, the ringing stopped and a familiar voice said, ‘Muro Investigations.’

‘No names,’ Bishop said. ‘Do you remember a short while back when I hired you to watch over my sister for a few days? She was on life support at the time.’

There was a short pause. Then Scott Muro said, ‘I remember. And I’d say you’re in one hell of a spot right now.’

‘You don’t know the half of it. Look, I’m currently in a situation where I need somebody found fast, and your name immediately came to mind. Can you help?’

‘What, I’m a charity now?’

‘I’ll pay you for your time. You know I’m good for it.’

‘That kind of depends if you’re still around or not, if you know what I mean.’

‘So take a chance.’

‘How fast would you want it?’

‘Put it this way, I’ll be waiting here on the line while you do your thing.’

There was a sigh at the other end. ‘Okay, tell me what you need.’

‘I need contact information for a lady whose married name was Emily Mechner. Her husband, Paul, died almost ten years ago so there’s a good chance she’s either remarried since then or reverted to her maiden name, which was Landry. By my calculation she’d be forty-eight years old now. I was never given her exact date of birth.’

‘Okay. What else you got?’

‘Not much. I know her folks originally came from a place called Duncan, Oklahoma, so there’s a chance she did too. That’s about it. A phone number for her would be great. Anything on top of that is gravy.’

‘Well, I’ve worked with less, but then I was usually given more time to play with.’

‘In this case seconds count. And keep me on the line while you work, okay?’

‘Sure, but I’ll have to mute the phone. I got sources I need to protect.’

‘Understood,’ Bishop said. ‘So don’t waste any more time talking to me.’

There was a short bark of laughter, then the line went silent. Bishop took the phone from his ear, pressed the loudspeaker button and placed it on the floor. On the laptop screen, Rafael Guzman was currently distracted by something. Bishop saw part of one of those iPad tablet things come into shot for a second, then disappear. The guy was probably working out how many millions he’d made since he started this conversation. Nobody else spoke.

Bishop counted the seconds and tried not to think about the possibility of Muro not coming up with anything. For all he knew, Emily Mechner could have emigrated to Australia or moved to the South Pacific after her husband’s murder. Unlikely, but not beyond the realms of possibility. She might even have died of natural causes. In fact, almost anything could have happened to her during the past ten years, thus making further conjecture pointless. And since there was even less point in formulating a plan without more information than he already had, Bishop just kept counting the seconds.

Five hundred and twenty-six of them had passed when from the cell phone a tinny voice said, ‘You still there?’

Bishop grabbed the phone, deactivated the speaker and raised it to his ear. ‘I’m here. Find anything?’

‘I found out our Emily’s no longer a Mechner or a Landry, but a Rylander.’

Bishop smiled. ‘Tell me more.’

‘Okay. She got married seven years ago in OK City to a commercial artist named Christopher Rylander, who’s a widower himself with a son and daughter who’ll both be teenagers now. Anyway, I got not only a number for you, but an address too. So on a scale on one to ten, just how good am I?’

‘You’re off the scale. So where are they now? Still in Oklahoma City?’

‘No, they moved away about five years ago, but they’re still in the same state. Some place called Okmulgee. You ever heard of it?’

‘No, but that doesn’t mean anything. You say you have an address for me?’

‘Yeah, they’re living at 924 South Walker Avenue.’ He also reeled off a phone number and said, ‘Now that’s just a landline, okay? But I learned that this Christopher is now a freelancer who works from home, so you should be all right. I could probably get you their cell phone numbers too, but that takes more time.’

‘Which I don’t have.’

‘Which is what I thought.’

‘Thanks,’ Bishop said. ‘You really came through for me. I won’t forget it.’

‘I won’t let you,’ Muro said, and ended the call.

Bishop keyed in the number he’d been given and brought the phone to his ear again. After about thirty seconds, the phone was answered and a gruff male voice said, ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, is that Mr Christopher Rylander?’

‘It is. Who am I speaking to?’

‘Somebody who was a friend of your wife’s first husband, Paul. Would it be possible to speak to Mrs Rylander, please?’

‘Well, Emily’s not here right now.’

‘Any idea when she’ll be back? It’s very important that I speak with her.’

‘So important that you can’t give me your name?’

‘I’m afraid so. For a number of reasons, I really can’t say too much on an open line, Mr Rylander. Let me ask you a question instead – has your wife told you anything about the conditions under which her first husband died?’

Silence.

‘Mr Rylander?’ Bishop prompted.

‘Emily told me,’ Rylander said. ‘What part did you play in that?’

‘I was one of the men who helped keep them both safe until the feds took over and … well, the rest happened.’

‘What, like a private bodyguard, you mean?’

‘That’s right. But right now I need to talk to Mrs Rylander about something Paul left behind, and it’s very important. Does she have a cell phone number I can call?’

‘She does, but it won’t do you any good.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m looking at her phone right now. Seems she forgot it again.’

Bishop sighed. As if things weren’t already difficult enough. ‘Will she be back soon?’

‘Well, she’s gone to the store. She should be back by nine, but I can’t guarantee it.’

‘Okay,’ Bishop said, ‘now I see from the phone book that you live in Okmulgee. So would it be all right to come over and speak with Mrs Rylander in person?’

More silence on the line. Then, ‘Well, I don’t know. Where are you now?’

Bishop wasn’t about to give his real location over an open line, but he had to give the guy something. And somewhere fairly close. ‘Oklahoma City,’ he said.

‘That’s about a hundred miles west of us. You sure you want to make that kind of trip?’

‘It’s worth it to me.’

Another pause. ‘Well, if you think it’s necessary, I guess you better come on out.’

Bishop breathed out. ‘I’m much obliged, Mr Rylander. I’m starting off now, so I’ll see you both soon.’ He ended the call before the guy could change his mind, and handed the phone back to Clea. ‘Geraldo, check on Google Maps for me and see where Okmulgee is in relation to us.’

Geraldo stiffened in the chair. ‘I don’t take orders from you,
pendejo
.’

‘But you take them from me,’ Guzman said calmly. ‘Do as he asks.’

‘
Si, jefe
.’ Geraldo immediately pulled a smartphone from his jacket pocket and swiped a finger over the screen. ‘Spell this place for me.’

Bishop spelled out the name of the town and Geraldo continued to move his fingers over the phone for another thirty seconds. Finally he said, ‘Okay. It’s about fifty miles south of here, on Route 75.’

Meaning it was less than an hour’s drive away. Finally, a break. Bishop turned to Dario standing by the drapes and said, ‘So which one of us is driving?’

Bishop drove.

They were using the gang’s own vehicle, the grey panel van parked in bay forty-four. The landscaping logo on the side was also great cover. Dario sat in the passenger seat with his .38 resting on his lap, chewing gum while watching Bishop’s every move. Neither man had much to say to the other. Other than a brief call to update Geraldo, the journey was spent mostly in silence, which was fine with Bishop.

The highway was essentially a straight line from north to south, with little in the way of variation, or traffic, for that matter. But there were no roadblocks, either. In fact, no sign of any police presence at all.