The Outsider (James Bishop 4) (45 page)

All except Callaway. He just stood there watching Bishop, right out in the open, as calm as anything. He shouted, ‘
Nobody fires a shot unless I say so.
’

Without waiting for a response, Callaway gestured for Bishop to come forward.

Bishop stayed where he was for a moment, watching those shooters still out in the open. Looking for a jittery one. Only needed one wild card to think he knew better than the boss and that’d be it for Bishop. And for Barney. Be a hell of a thing to have it all fall apart so close to the finish line. But they all seemed calm enough. For the moment anyway.

Callaway waved him forward again, and this time Bishop began walking, arms out at his sides. He walked slowly, watching everyone and taking in everything, ready to dive to the ground at the first sign of trouble. As he advanced most of the men on the ground slowly raised themselves up to sitting or standing positions, still holding him in their sights. Callaway watched him approach with his hands on his hips, wearing a faint smile.

When Bishop had closed the distance between them to just fifteen feet, he stopped.

‘Bishop,’ Callaway said. ‘So we meet at last.’

‘So you’re Callaway,’ Bishop said. ‘Funny, I expected someone taller.’

Callaway’s smile didn’t even falter. ‘If that’s an attempt to get under my skin you’re wasting your time. Mind telling me how you got here so fast?’

‘What difference does it make? All that matters is we arrived before you.’

‘I’d still like to know.’

‘Maybe I wasn’t entirely truthful in regards to our location when you called earlier. As it turned out we were a little closer to this place than you were, that’s all. Lucky for us.’

Callaway’s brow became furrowed. ‘Or maybe it was more than just dumb luck.’

Hoping to forestall that line of thought before it could even begin, Bishop said quickly, ‘I’ve been counting and so far I make it twelve against two. Don’t you think you’re overdoing things a little?’

‘A man takes every edge he can get,’ Callaway said, shrugging. ‘And it’s thirteen actually. I got another man in the SUV, guarding the boy.’

‘Don’t suppose that would be Hartnell himself?’

‘Afraid not. He’s far too busy getting ready for his court appearance three hours from now, although I’ll be keeping him fully updated on the situation here.’

‘How? By carrier pigeon?’

Callaway smiled. ‘You shouldn’t believe every rumour you hear. My boss never talks over the phone, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a good listener. He’s one of the best, actually, since he never interrupts. So where’s Strickland?’

‘Around. I told him to drop me off here, then take off in the car. He’s currently parked somewhere in the general area, awaiting my call. And if I don’t give him the correct password when I do call, he’ll know that everything’s gone to hell and head straight to the cops and turn himself in.’

Callaway studied Bishop for a beat, then slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t like it.’

‘That’s the whole idea.’

‘No, I mean there’s something wrong about this whole set-up. I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something not right here, I can feel it. Or maybe it’s just you that’s not right, Bishop. Maybe this is all a bluff on your part and Strickland’s still here somewhere, possibly watching us right this very second.’

Bishop kept his face expressionless. ‘You willing to bet everything on that?’

Callaway’s brows came together as he considered. This was a very dangerous moment. If he followed his own line of thought and began to suspect Bishop had manipulated him into picking this location, he’d have to assume Bishop had stretched the truth in other ways too. Which would automatically open up to all kinds of possibilities in his mind, none of them good.

Finally, Callaway said, ‘Ramirez, Stack, get over here.’

The white guy with the Skorpion sub-machine gun got to his feet and ambled over, followed by another guy, a Latino, who was gripping a large .357 Magnum in his right hand.

This one said, ‘Want me to kneecap him, boss?’

‘No, I want you to shut up and listen,’ Callaway said. ‘Both of you go check behind these three buildings. If you see a parked vehicle anywhere, you come tell me, got it?’

Bishop sighed.
So much for Plan A
. ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ he said.

All three turned to him. Callaway said, ‘Why not?’

Bishop didn’t say anything. Instead, he just slowly extended his right index finger and pointed at the ground five feet in front of him.

Callaway, Ramirez and Stack all looked down at the spot he was pointing at. Grass and weeds were growing through the cracks in the concrete. Callaway began to say, ‘What—’ when a bright red dot suddenly appeared on the ground, exactly where Bishop was pointing.

Bishop slowly raised his arm in the direction of the three men, and the red dot moved with him, following his finger. It travelled along the ground until it landed on Callaway’s left shoe. Callaway looked down and watched it creep up his left leg, move past his belt, and continue up his waist until it stopped at the spot where his heart should be.

‘That’s why not,’ Bishop said.

Callaway looked up from the red dot and stared at Bishop. He was no longer smiling, but he still look pretty composed for a man a second away from death.

‘For all I know this is coming from one of those dumb laser pens,’ he said.

‘You know better,’ Bishop said.

Callaway sighed. ‘I guess I do. I also know Strickland’s not much good with a gun. So who is it up there?’

‘Somebody who is good with a gun.’

Without warning, the black sniper crouching next to the sedan said, ‘
Got
him.’ He quickly brought his rifle up at a thirty-degree angle with the butt tight against his shoulder, his left eye pressed against the sight.

Without turning, Callaway hissed, ‘Radcliffe, don’t even think about it. I told you—’

But Radcliffe was no longer listening. He was too caught up in the moment. Bishop saw his right index finger already squeezing the trigger.

Then the red dot instantly appeared in the centre of Radcliffe’s forehead. There was a single crack from somewhere above and Radcliffe’s head was obscured by a red mist as a 7.62 hollow-point entered his brain. The sniper was thrown back by the force of the shot, landing on his back with a large section of his skull missing, still holding the rifle.

It all happened in the space of a second. Bishop saw the red dot had already resumed its place over Callaway’s heart. Radcliffe’s right foot shuddered once and then was still. There was blood all over the ground.

A moment’s silence. Then a babble of curses as the gunmen still out in the open quickly scrambled for cover behind the vehicles. Bishop now saw a dozen different weapons trained on him, and him alone.

‘
Nobody else fires a shot without my permission
,’ Callaway shouted, still standing in the same spot, both arms stretched wide. ‘
If I die, none of you get paid. Remember that
.’

Nobody else spoke. Everybody remained motionless. Finally, Callaway looked at Bishop and said, ‘And just so you understand, Bishop. If I die, so does the boy. That’s guaranteed.’

‘I know that,’ Bishop said.

‘Good. So who is it up there, squinting down his sights at me?’

‘A friend. That’s all you need to know.’

It was true. Up till now, Nelson Daly had merely been one of a large number of ex-comrades-in-arms from his time in the Corps. But by his actions today Nelson had now elevated himself to the status of a true friend.

Last night when they’d stopped at Valley Park to pick up the GPS unit, Bishop had phoned one of the numbers on the card Nelson had given him when he’d delivered the fibreglass plates three days before, hoping he’d get more than just an endless ringing tone. Fortunately Nelson had finished whatever shady business deals he’d been working on in Mexico and answered on the second ring. And once he understood the full situation, he’d immediately offered to help Bishop in any way he could.

Any
way he could. No questions asked.

Bishop had outlined his plan, that he was going to try and manoeuvre Callaway into changing the location for the exchange to the old Lima site, and that he wanted Nelson to make use of his private company jet to get there before everybody else. Bishop told him to bring along his M24A2 Sniper Weapon System with laser sight, and a few other bits and pieces, and then to find himself a good spot on one of the upper floors of the central building. He was to be used primarily as backup, but he also needed to be ready to act if required.

Nelson had told him he’d be at the site waiting for them and, as usual, he’d kept his word. He’d set down at Drayton airport and driven a rental car the rest of the way. He’d parked it about a mile away from the site and come the rest of the way by foot, lugging his huge gym bag full of lethal goodies along with him. The text messages between them had merely been Nelson confirming his position.
Penthouse
meant he’d found a good spot on the second floor of one of the structures, and
360
simply meant he had a complete panoramic view of the immediate area.

Upon Bishop’s and Strickland’s arrival thirty minutes ago, the three of them had carefully discussed what needed to happen. Bishop had quickly outlined a number of simple contingency plans should things go wrong, as things invariably did in these situations. Afterwards, Strickland had gone through Nelson’s gym bag himself and when he saw the two rectangular blocks wrapped in olive-coloured Mylar film, he made one further suggestion. Bishop immediately gave his okay, and ten minutes later they were ready at their respective positions, waiting for the enemy to arrive.

Callaway said, ‘Your friend’s a pretty good shot.’

‘He should be,’ Bishop said. ‘He’s a military-trained scout sniper. We worked together before and I can’t recall him ever missing a shot.’

‘Figures.’ He tilted his head at Bishop, then said, ‘You corralled me into picking this place as the backup site.’

‘I hoped you would. When Strickland described it to me I knew it’d be perfect, but only if we got here first. But I couldn’t suggest it myself. You had to pick it. Fortunately, you did.’

‘Looks like I underestimated you.’

‘You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.’

‘And Strickland’s really back there in that building behind you?’

Bishop nodded.

‘So what now?’

‘Now I’ve equalized the odds a little we can make the exchange. But first you show me Barney’s still okay.’

‘I’m sensing a real lack of trust here, Bishop. You honestly think I’d be dumb enough to waste the kid before we completed our deal?’

‘Why not? Isn’t that your specialty?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Killing kids. Isn’t that what you do best?’

Callaway’s eyes became hooded. ‘I assume you got a particular someone in mind?’

‘I do. A boy named Andrew Truman. That name mean anything to you?’

Callaway thought for a few moments, then he said, ‘The Mechner job, back in Arkansas.’ He slowly nodded to himself. ‘Yeah, I remember now. So, what, you telling me you were part of that asshole’s protection crew?’

‘I was in charge of it, which means I got to witness the results of your handiwork up close. I was there when the boy blew himself into small pieces, and I was also the one who discovered his parents next door with both their throats slit. You’ve got a real talent for wiping out families, don’t you? Men, women, children, they’re all the same to you.’

Callaway smiled. ‘I’m just a professional who does what he’s paid to do. And I do it well.’

‘So that’s how a real-life serial killer justifies his crimes. I’ve always wondered.’

The smile disappeared from Callaway’s face. ‘Got through your security easily enough, though, didn’t I?’

‘And you
still
failed to hit your designated target. Brilliant. You must have been real proud of yourself that day.’

‘Nobody’s got a perfect record, and at least I made up for it a few months later. Thanks to a little inside help I managed to get my guy in the end. But then, I always do.’

‘So do I.’

‘You implying I should start looking over my shoulder from now on?’

‘If you want. Not that it’ll make any difference.’

‘Now you really got me shaking in my boots. But if we could return to the real world for a moment, maybe you can tell your pal up there to remove this glowing bull’s-eye from my chest. It’s starting to irritate me. Then I’ll let you see the kid.’

Bishop had no problem with that. He slowly reached a hand into the side pocket of his jacket and pulled out a slim Cobra walkie-talkie and raised it to his mouth. Pressing the transmit button, he said, ‘Lights off.’

Almost immediately, the red dot vanished from Callaway’s chest.

Bishop pocketed the walkie-talkie and said, ‘But he’s still tracking your every move, so I advise you not to make any sudden movements. Like trying to get out of range by diving into the back of that SUV, for example. My friend wouldn’t like that.’

‘The thought never even entered my mind.’ Callaway turned towards the large vehicle and called out, ‘Okay, Simons, bring the kid out now. But do it slow.’

After a short pause the rear door clicked open and Bishop saw a pair of sneakers push it open the rest of the way. Bishop recognized them as the same ones Barney had been wearing two days ago.

A boy’s hand grabbed the inner door handle, and Barney slowly slid himself across the seat until he was half in and half out of the vehicle. Bishop saw the thirteenth man, Simons, was right behind him with an arm clamped tightly round his neck. His other hand held a semi-automatic to Barney’s temple. As the boy very carefully stepped out of the car, Simons – a stocky young man with a shaved head and intricate tattoos crawling up the side of his neck – got out right behind him, matching his every move. Barney was still wearing the same jeans and the same sweatshirt. He looked a lot paler than before, but he didn’t seem any the worse for wear, at least physically. Although Bishop saw he was shivering a little.