The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (44 page)

The numbers on the dashboard clock changed to 05.07.

And Bishop couldn’t rush him either. He just had to be patient and hope the man at the other end of the line would make the right choice.

If Strickland had been telling the truth, the
only
choice left.

The clock had already changed to 05.08 when Callaway spoke again. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I think I’ve got a site that satisfies everyone’s needs.’

‘We’re listening,’ Bishop said.

‘Lima.’

‘Lima?’ Bishop said, aware that Strickland was now staring at him. ‘I’ve heard of it. That’s north-east of us, right?’

‘That’s right. And I’m thinking of a certain abandoned manufacturing and storage complex on the south side of the city, close to the gas refinery. A place your associate knows all too well. In fact, you could say that’s where all this current trouble sprang from.’

‘I know where you mean,’ Strickland said.

‘Sure you do. And it’s nice and deserted, so we’re not likely to be disturbed by anybody. What do you say, friend? That meet with your approval?’

‘If he’s okay with it,’ Bishop said, ‘then so am I.’

‘Gee, I’m so glad. Now as your pal there will tell you, this place is basically a large vacant plot of land with three derelict buildings grouped together in the middle of it. That’s where we’ll meet. And since this Lima’s about sixty miles away from your current position, I suggest you don’t waste any more time talking to me.’

The line went dead.

Strickland was still staring at him. ‘Son of a bitch,’ he said.

Smiling, Bishop started the engine, then got back on the road and continued heading north, feeling as though a great load had been removed from his shoulders. Callaway had indeed made the right choice, as Bishop hoped he would.

‘You sneaky son of a bitch,’ Strickland said. ‘That’s why you were happy when I said I didn’t know this part of Ohio too well. Except for Lima. That’s why you kept driving north on this old road. You had it in mind all along that he’d pick that place to meet.’

Bishop nodded. ‘After you described the site to Clea the other night I knew it would make a perfect alternative. But since I couldn’t exactly suggest it myself, I simply pushed Callaway into thinking along the same lines, that’s all. Although if he hadn’t gone for it, we would have been well and truly screwed.’

‘Nice.’ Strickland glanced at the GPS unit. ‘So how far away are we from Lima now?’

‘Twenty miles or so.’

‘And how far away is this Urbana from Lima?’ Strickland asked.

‘About sixty miles. If they really push it, they should get there within the hour.’

Strickland smiled for the first time in hours. ‘Where we’ll already be waiting for them.’

05.45. Fifteen minutes to zero hour.

Bishop and Strickland stood in the darkness of the largest of the three buildings at the designated site, waiting for the first sign of approaching headlights. So far, nothing. But it wouldn’t be long now.

Although it wasn’t quite dawn yet, the first signs of light were already beginning to peek over the eastern horizon, transforming that part of the night sky into a slightly lighter shade of black. In the distance, Bishop could make out the lights of the vast, sprawling, industrial complex that made up the gas refinery. In addition to the three huge cooling towers, he saw numerous oil storage tanks, refining factories, waste water treatment plants, loading stations, and more besides. Even from half a mile away, he could hear the constant hum of heavy refining machinery at work.

This old trading estate hadn’t actually been listed on the GPS map, but Strickland still remembered the directions and got them to the site by 05.32. The place was located on a tract of wasteland, maybe ten or twelve acres in total, bordered by the refinery to the west and the old railroad lines to the north. But there were no fences protecting the southern or eastern boundaries, so you could still enter and exit the site pretty much wherever you wanted.

As Strickland had described it before, at the centre of the vast lot were three abandoned buildings – ruins, really – arranged in a basic U formation, and overlooking an empty square overgrown with grass.

The east building was a single-storey, windowless brick building that must have once been a storehouse or depot of some kind. The roof had caved in long ago. The west building was a two-storey office building with caved-in outer walls and a second floor that looked ready to collapse at any moment.

The north building was also a two-storey structure, but it looked a little more stable than the other one. Great chunks of the outer walls were still missing, though, leaving large areas of the ground floor open to the elements, both at the front and at the back. In almost every room, the ceiling had either collapsed or been pulled down to get at the fixtures and copper piping, allowing you to see straight into the area directly above. There was also a concrete stairwell in the centre of the building that provided access for anyone brave enough to go up there. There were large piles of rubble and bricks everywhere.

Bishop and Strickland were standing in one of the front rooms that looked directly out onto the square. It was the best spot. A large triangular chunk was missing from the front wall, giving them a clear view to the south and a partial view of the east. Bishop felt pretty sure the enemy would be coming from one of those two directions. He’d parked the Nissan at the rear of the building in a semi-covered area that had probably once been a loading bay. Strickland said it was the exact same spot he’d parked the night he’d witnessed his ex-boss murder an undercover DEA agent by the name of Salvatore Ferrera.

That was a night that changed everything for a lot of people. And it was all about to come to a head right here. Today.

Strickland wrapped his arms round himself and shivered, even though it wasn’t a particular cold morning. But Bishop knew that wasn’t the reason he was chilled.

‘How you holding up?’ he asked.

Strickland turned to him. ‘Not too good.’ Then he shrugged and said, ‘Still, a little better now that I … well, you know.’

Bishop nodded. He understood all too well. Now that they’d reached the endgame, everything had become a lot clearer to each of them. They now knew exactly what needed to be done and, more importantly, when.

‘And knowing I’ll be seeing Barn helps a hell of a lot too,’ Strickland continued. ‘Have I told you how much I love that boy, Bishop?’

‘You told me. And even if you hadn’t, it’s pretty obvious. He’s a special kid.’

‘You’re not kidding. I tell you, that boy’s everything I hoped he’d be and more besides. You just don’t know, Bishop. You just can’t …’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘I just wish I could have been a better role model to him, that’s all. I wish I could change a lot of things about my life, like never getting involved with Hartnell in the first place, but being a better father’s the one I wish most.’

‘You’re making up for it now.’

‘Maybe. I hope I am. You know I tried everything not to turn out like my old man, Bishop, and I think I succeeded on that one, at least. Man, that guy was such a loser, it’s no surprise I turned out the way I did. Did I ever tell you about him?’

‘No.’

‘Well, we lived out in Chicago and he was a pharmacist. Just a normal nine-to-five guy, you know? Had his own shop and made pretty decent money as far as that went. But as a sideline he also ran numbers for the local mob, and he loved to impress his drinking buddies by bragging about all his so-called connections with street guys. Even as a kid I could see they all thought he was a joke.

‘And he loved to drink, too, especially after Mom died. He’d usually come home steaming, and he’d start ranting about my bad grades and tell me how useless I was and how I’d never amount to anything in this life. Like
he
was anything special. Then he’d get the belt out and really give me something to remember. And this would be a twice-weekly thing too, sometimes more. Best day of my life was when I walked out of that house at sixteen. Never went back neither.’

Dawn was breaking now. The grey, overcast sky was steadily getting lighter, allowing Bishop to finally make out Strickland’s haggard, drained features. He looked as though he’d aged ten years overnight. But then again, maybe he had.

‘Is he still alive?’ Bishop asked.

‘No idea. Haven’t spoken to the bastard in over twenty-five years, so he might as well be. But at least he did do one good thing for me, Bishop. He made me promise to myself that if I ever had kids of my own, I’d make sure they had a father who always supported them and let them make their own decisions instead of forcing them into the same mistakes I made. And I’d clap ’em on the back when they did good, but I wouldn’t make them feel like the world’s smallest piece of shit whenever they didn’t come up to expectations either. And I kept my promise too. I wasn’t always there for Barn, but whenever I was I’d make sure he knew he was one of the two most important things in my life. Him and Carrie both.’

‘I’m sure Barney knows that.’

‘Man, I hope he does.’ Strickland wiped at his eyes, then cleared his throat. ‘You’re all right, Bishop. I know we had our differences before and everything, but when the chips are down you’re a good guy to have around. Like me, you don’t go for half measures and I respect that. Kind of makes me wonder what would have happened if the two of us had met, say, five or ten years ago.’

‘We wouldn’t have got along,’ Bishop said, smiling. ‘At all.’

Strickland snorted. ‘Yeah, you’re right there. I would have drawn on you, or you would have drawn on me. Either way, one of us would have ended up bleeding on the floor. Funny how things work out sometimes.’ He paused, then reached inside his jacket and winced a little as he rubbed his stomach.

‘You okay?’ Bishop asked.

‘I’ll be fine. So you think Hartnell will be coming to the meet himself?’

‘Hard to say. Delaney told me Hartnell’s on an eighty-million-dollar bail bond, but he still has to wear an electronic tag that forbids him from leaving the state. So that could be why Callaway insisted the exchange take place in Ohio. I wouldn’t bet the farm on him showing, though. Hartnell’s nothing if not careful.’

‘Yeah, you don’t need to tell me.’

Bishop, staring off into the distance, finally spotted a small convoy of headlights approaching from the south, all moving up and down as the drivers negotiated the bumpy terrain. There were four pairs of lights. About a thousand yards away and closing.

‘Here we go,’ he said.

Bishop checked the display on his cell phone and saw it was 05.53. Callaway and his people must have really been pushing it to get here so fast. Still not fast enough, though.

When the vehicles were about three hundred yards away the drivers turned off their headlights one by one, but still kept on coming. Bishop and Strickland slowly retreated deeper into the building. Bishop positioned himself behind a stone pillar next to a huge pile of old bricks that had once been part of a partition wall, of which only a fraction still existed. He made a hand motion to Strickland, who moved further back into the room until he was completely enveloped in darkness.

Bishop stood at his spot. Watching. Waiting.

The day was getting noticeably lighter now, so he was able to make out details without too much trouble.

The first vehicle finally reached the large open area between the two other buildings five hundred feet away and came to a slow stop. The next car parked a few feet from it. The doors opened on both vehicles and Bishop counted six men as they got out. They were of various sizes, ages and ethnicities, and all wearing casual clothes and thick coats. Meanwhile, the other two vehicles, a sedan and a large black SUV with tinted windows, kept on coming until they reached the main square. They both came to a stop about two hundred feet away.

The six men from the first two cars all began walking towards the main square. One man carried a large holdall. Probably spare ammo. Three others had rifles slung over their shoulders and were studying the three buildings as they walked: obviously the snipers.

Bishop had to smile. Callaway probably couldn’t believe his luck when Bishop agreed to this place. It was perfect for an ambush. You couldn’t ask for better. Two or three carefully placed snipers on the second floor of this building and the one to his left would easily be able to cover the kill zone in the square below. Actually, just one sniper would be enough. It would still be like shooting ducks in a barrel.

But only if Bishop allowed things to get that far.

Three more men had already exited the sedan, making nine so far. Then the SUV’s driver and a passenger in the front exited, making eleven. Finally the SUV’s rear passenger side door was pushed open and a stocky, heavyset man stepped out. Number twelve. The man was dressed the same as Bishop – dark suit, pale shirt, no tie. About five-nine or five-ten. He had a hard, serious-looking face with a thin straight line for a mouth. His dark hair was cut short and was heavily receding.

‘That’s Callaway,’ Strickland said from behind him.

Bishop said nothing. He’d already guessed as much.

The other men all gathered round Callaway as he gave them their instructions. Bishop saw the man point quickly towards both two-storey buildings as he spoke, no doubt ordering his snipers find themselves decent spots on the upper floors. Always take the high ground when you could. Everybody knew that.

‘Stay here,’ Bishop told Strickland. ‘Don’t make a sound, and don’t move until I tell you.’

Moving away from the pillar, Bishop walked over to the remains of the front wall, stepped through the gap and just stood there in the open, waiting for one of the men to notice him. When none did, Bishop joined the tips of his thumb and index finger together, clamped both between his lips and gave a shrill, ear-splitting whistle.

Everybody immediately turned in his direction. Then they moved. Half the men dropped to the ground with their weapons out. Most had handguns, but he saw one guy with what looked like a Skorpion vz 61 sub-machine gun, which meant there’d be more. One of the snipers crouched next to the sedan’s front fender, aiming his rifle at Bishop, while the rest of the men took cover behind the two vehicles.