The Wrong Man (28 page)

When they reached RoyseCorp Tower, Mandrake held them steady at fifteen feet above the angled, ramp-like structure. The floodlights
were still on too, which was a bonus Bishop hadn’t counted on. Probably on a timer.

Bishop turned to Aleron in the rear and made a horizontal twirl with his forefinger. They switched places,
then Bishop swapped
again with Luke and slid the rear passenger door open. A strong current of September night wind swept through the chopper
and Bishop took a deep breath of the city air. He took a quick look over the side, then reached under the front passenger
seat and pulled out a thirty-foot length of knotted climbing rope.

Next to him, Luke
splayed his hands into leather gloves and yelled, ‘I’m not liking any part of this, Bishop. The height part,
mainly.’

Bishop finished tying one end of the rope securely to the steel snap ring attached to the ceiling of the cabin. ‘It’s only
a ten foot drop,’ he said, testing his weight against it. ‘You’re almost that tall standing up.’ He threw the rope out
the
door and watched it coil on the roof of the entrance structure. ‘Just follow me,’ he said, and waited until Luke reluctantly
nodded back.

Bishop put his own gloves on and made sure his knapsack was tight on his back. Then he grasped the rope with both hands and
turned so he was facing Luke. Stepping onto the fixed skid, he gave a thumbs-up and
lowered himself out into the sky.

With his legs entwined round the swaying rope, Bishop descended using just his arms and in less than ten seconds his feet
touched concrete, just a few feet from the overhang. He knelt down, held the rope in place with one hand and gestured for
Luke to follow. The taller man stepped out onto the skid. A few moments of hesitation
and then he was making his way down
the rope at a pretty good speed.

When he landed next to him, Bishop said, ‘Not so bad.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Luke said, out of breath. He looked terrified. ‘Nobody can make me do that again.’

Bishop smiled and waved up at Aleron, who began pulling the rope back in. Once it was up, Mandrake rose a few
more feet, but
kept the copter directly above them.

Luke puffed his cheeks out and took off his knapsack, laid it on the ground and pulled his laptop out. He also pulled out
a slim metallic box the size of a cigarette pack and connected it to the computer with a long USB wire. He handed the box
to Bishop and said, ‘Wireless transmitter. Doesn’t need
to be touching the camera, as long as it’s within a couple of feet
of it.’

Bishop nodded, then crawled to the far left of the overhang and peered over. He was about ten feet above the roof. Further
along, he could see the featureless black steel entrance door in the centre of the wall and the entry keypad on its right.
Directly above the door, a
few inches under the overhang, was the oval camera in its fixed position, looking straight ahead.
Bishop moved across until he was directly over it and placed the wireless transmitter an inch from the edge.

Luke was busy working on his laptop when Bishop returned. Bishop looked at the screen and saw the roof footage he’d been downloading
ever since Royse
had left. ‘We’ve only got about fifteen minutes’ worth,’ Luke said. ‘I’m giving it a loop command now, so
if my little box of goodness is doing its thing . . .’ The picture vanished, to be replaced by lines of code. Luke’s fingers tapped
out their concerto across the keyboard and Bishop saw a smile slowly play itself out on his lips. ‘We’re in,’ he said, finally.

Bishop still saw only code. ‘How can you tell?’

‘Check it out, non-believer,’ Luke said. He opened his internet browser and accessed his bookmarked web page. It showed the
same empty rooftop as before. ‘That’s what’s being transmitted to the building’s security right now,’ he said, and stood up
and walked over to the overhang. Kneeling down beside his magic
box, he swung his hand back and forth in front of the camera.
‘Well?’ he shouted back.

Bishop watched the screen and saw the same bare rooftop. No hands. Bishop nodded at Luke and looked up at the chopper. Aleron
was looking down at them from the open door. Bishop pointed to the helipad and made landing motions with his arms. Luke came
over and
they both watched as Mandrake momentarily hovered over the circle before landing directly on the H.

While Mandrake began powering down, Luke brought out a second metallic object from his knapsack, similar in size to the transmitter.
It was finished in matt grey with a series of ports at one end and one side covered in adhesive pads. He used another long
cable
to connect it to his laptop.

Bishop took his own knapsack off and pulled out a length of thin knotted rope with a different-sized loop tied at each end,
a black steel rock hammer, and some two-inch long universal mountaineering pitons. He moved to the edge, in line with the
keypad, and lowered the end of the rope with the larger loop until it hovered a foot
off the ground. Then he put the knapsack
on part of it to keep it in place while he brought the other end as far back as it would go. About ten feet from the overhang.
Where the rope ended, he took out a marker pen and drew a dot on the concrete.

Luke had finished setting up, and watched as Bishop came back for the tools then returned to his mark and hammered
one of
the pitons halfway into the concrete. Next he picked up the rope and placed the miniature loop over the exposed pin. After
pulling at the rope with all his strength he turned back to Luke, who held out the box to him.

‘Wireless data transceiver,’ he said. ‘Same rules. As long as you position it a few inches away from the keypad, we’re good
to go. Give me fifteen, twenty minutes and I’ll get us in.’

Bishop placed the box in his top shirt pocket and looked at his watch. 21.34. ‘You told us ten before,’ he said.

‘Maybe I exaggerated. So sue me.’

Shaking his head, Bishop picked up his knapsack and pulled out two small items which he put in another pocket. Looked like
it was
down to him to narrow the timescale.

With the rope in both hands, he carefully lowered himself over the side until his feet were within a few inches of the rooftop
surface. Then he inserted his left foot into the stirrup and gradually relaxed his arm muscles. His body hovered just clear
of the ground.

The door to his left was a black
steel monolith set into the stone. No handle, no lock to pick and no hinges. Which meant
it must open inwards once the right code was inputted. The keypad was at chest level and Bishop had to bend his left leg a
little to bring his face in line with
it. The keys were laid out in the standard three columns of one through nine with the fourth row made up of a star, a zero
and a hash. No letters, thank God, but also no other signs to indicate whether it was armed or disarmed. Bishop looked up
and saw Luke with his head over the side, watching him.

He pulled the transceiver from his shirt pocket, ripped the seals off the adhesive pads and stuck it to the wall beside the
keypad. Then he reached into his pants pocket and pulled
out the tube of aluminium fingerprint powder and the fibreglass brush
he’d asked Aleron to get for him earlier. He opened the tube, tapped a large quantity of powder into his gloved palm and blew
it directly onto the keypad until the fine particles covered the surface. Then he used the brush to gently dust away the excess.
He was left with just five keys with silver
powder markings on them. 1, 5, 7, 8 and #.

‘There we go,’ he said.

Then the stirrup came loose and he hit the ground with both feet.

‘What the hell?’ Luke said.

Bishop raised his hand to forestall further talk and checked his watch. 21.37.12. No flashing lights or sirens yet, but he
knew there would be sixty seconds from now without the right code.

All right
, he thought.
Either you make it through this first hurdle or it’s over before
it’s begun. No pressure
.

He stared at the keypad. He knew the keys Royse had pressed, but not the order. Or which of them needed keying more than once.
Wilson had said you usually get three shots before being kicked out. And less than sixty seconds in which to do it.
So you better make them count
.

1, 5, 7, 8. So if Royse subscribed to Wilson’s theory,
they would likely make a date. Luke had dug out a few more biographical
details that afternoon, but not nearly enough to satisfy Bishop. And none of the dates he’d seen contained the four numbers
in front of him.

And then he remembered one date
did
match. When he read that piece about the AIDS benefit Brennan attended in April of 1987, Jenna said the company
had been
formed three months earlier on January 15. That made 1/15/87. With a hash after the final number, maybe. Or before the first
number. Or to separate the month, day and year.

Bishop licked his lips, then pressed 1, #, 1, 5, #, 8, 7.

No result.

He tried adding a hash at the start, followed by the same number sequence and
another hash at the end.

Still nothing. He checked his watch again. 21.37.47. One more try and twenty-five seconds left.

Bishop closed his eyes and willed himself to come up with something. Anything. There was always an answer. Always. You just
needed to think. Two seconds later, he opened his eyes and leaned in closer to the keypad. And frowned when he noticed
a small
amount of residue on two of the other keys: the zero and the nine. He should have taken
more notice the first time. Stupid. He pulled the tube out again and emptied the contents into his palm, then blew the remaining
powder against the lower half of the keypad.

He didn’t need the brush this time. The nine key had even less residue now, but the zero
was almost entirely covered in silver
particles.

21.37.58. Less than fifteen seconds.

Time enough for one last try. The placement of the zero was obvious, but where to put the hash marks? Bishop thought of Royse’s
precise, clipped manner when he’d conversed with the tower. And the zero that had to go before the month of January. Like
most military men, he liked things neat and in their place, so Bishop had to assume his first instinct had been the correct
one: that in the absence of a slash symbol a hash mark had to suffice.

This time, Bishop pressed 0 first. Then 1, #, 1, 5, #, 8, 7. Then he waited for the click of a lock opening.

Still nothing.

Bishop checked his
watch again: 21.38.11. Time was up. He watched it change to 21.38.12.

Then he heard a metallic click to his left. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The door had opened.

‘Wanna tell me what that was all about?’ Luke said from behind Bishop.

They were halfway down a sparsely lit concrete stairwell that came to a stop two levels below in front of another door. Bishop
said, ‘The rope was slippery. It just came loose is all.’

‘Don’t tell me that. Not after I just rappelled out
of a helicopter.’

‘Forget it. We’re here now.’ But even as Bishop said it, he reminded himself not to get too cocksure just yet. That he’d gotten
them this far by a hair’s breadth. The vault wouldn’t be anywhere near as easy. Plus they had to find the damn thing first.

He reached the bottom of the stairs and studied the solid steel door in front of him.
This one had a handle, but no keypad
or visible lock.

He grabbed the handle, pulled the door open, but didn’t step inside.

He couldn’t make out much in the darkness and the lightspill coming from behind wasn’t much help. He reached into his pocket
and pulled out his Maglite, playing the beam around the interior. He saw plenty of glass and a
few pieces of furniture here
and there. No obvious traps or alarms. Switching the light off, he lay down on his stomach and tried to see any sign of a
laser grid close to the floor. Nothing. He got to his feet and turned to Luke, who was standing close behind him.

Chewing his lip, Luke looked at Bishop and said, ‘We gotta go in, right?’

Bishop
nodded. The guy could be a jerk but Bishop couldn’t fault his logic. After all, what other choice was there?

He stepped into the room.

And immediately realized there were motion sensors in here. But not for reasons of security. The room was slowly getting lighter
and Bishop guessed it was some kind of automated light enhancer. It began at subdued and over the
next sixty seconds grew
in intensity to become a near perfect approximation of natural daylight. Bishop looked around
and saw the lights were hidden in recesses in the walls and ceiling. Very tasteful. Probably cost a fortune like everything
else in here.

‘Huh. If this is what you call a Howard Hughes complex,’ Luke said at his side, ‘I wanna be just like
him when I grow up.’

‘You got a few years to go yet,’ Bishop said.

‘Bite me.’

Royse’s penthouse looked like a first-class lounge. There was thick, dark grey carpet everywhere and most of the décor was
a gleaming white. Shutters covered the windows on the east and west sides and foundation pillars fell at regular intervals,
while tinted
glass partitions separated the space directly in front of them into three distinct sections. There was a reception
area, with six black leather easy chairs surrounding two glass coffee tables. Next was a conference area with a long oval
marble-effect table, overlooked by a huge projection screen. Then a spacious kitchen area with facilities for the preparation
of snacks
or refreshments. Bishop wondered if anyone other than Royse had actually sat in any of these chairs recently. Knowing
Royse’s aversion to human contact, probably not.

Further back, a tinted glass wall with sliding doors travelled the width of the building. Through it, Bishop could see a wide
passageway.

‘Let’s see where we are, exactly,’
he said and reached into Luke’s backpack.

‘What, we haven’t died and gone to executive heaven?’ Luke said over his shoulder. ‘How the hell does he keep this place clean?’

‘Probably flies in his own cleaners once a week,’ Bishop said, pulling out the floor plan and unfolding it. He found their
current location on the sheet and looked up. ‘Okay, most of his playrooms
are in that section past the glass, along with the
one we think could be the vault.’

He turned to the wall behind them. It ran from one side of the building to the other and alongside the door they’d just come
through was another to its left. With a keypad. He pointed and said, ‘That’ll lead to Royse’s office area.’

‘Same code as outside,
you think?’

Bishop thought about human nature and said, ‘Don’t see why not.’

He walked over and tried the same numbers. A second later, the door opened inwards. He turned to Luke and said, ‘You check
those rooms back there. I’ll see what we’ve got in here.’

‘Way ahead of you,’ Luke said.

Bishop walked down the hallway
into a huge office. It looked like something out of
Dr Strangelove
. Taking up the rear wall a hundred feet away was a huge digital map of the world set on a black background. Bishop saw electronic
notations against most of the countries. In front of it was Royse’s enormous, black marble work desk. On it were three widescreen
monitors.

He turned to the wall
behind him and understood why Royse had left the central part of the office so bare.

When Bishop had been stationed at the London Embassy during the early nineties, he and an English girl he’d been dating flew
to Spain for a long weekend. On her recommendation, they’d ended up visiting the Queen Sophia Museum in Madrid to check out
the recently acquired Picasso
masterpiece,
Guernica
. He remembered standing before the monochrome mural for almost an hour, oblivious of everything but the abstract depictions
of suffering in front of him.

And here it was again, even bigger than before. Maybe twice up. Starting a couple of feet to the right of the hallway, the
photographic enlargement went from floor to ceiling and stretched
fifty feet across.

Bishop stepped closer to the photograph until his nose was an inch away. He tapped the wall with a knuckle. Felt solid enough.
He stepped back and looked at the wall to the left of the hallway. He knew that behind there was the stairwell from the roof.
But what lay behind this? He unfolded the schematic again and looked it over carefully.
And then he groaned. He’d been right
when he said Royse had long ago blocked off any elevator access to this level. This was where it used to be. Right behind
the photograph.

He turned away and walked towards the map wall. As he got closer, he noticed door-shaped recesses at each end, but no handles.
He made for the one on the left, glancing briefly
at the desk and a black, futuristic-looking ergonomic chair as he passed
by. When he was within five feet of the door, it slid silently to the right and he stepped through without breaking stride.
More motion sensors, he guessed.

He was in the library. More white. No decorations, just a single, oval-shaped black desk in the centre of the room accompanied
by three leather easy chairs. Ten-foot-high bookcases lined two walls, along with two steel sliding ladders. The bookcases
were full.

Moving to the windows at his left, he opened his backpack and pulled out an electronic tape measure. He switched it on, pointed
it towards
the opposite wall, and looked at the figure displayed on the LCD screen. One
hundred and eight feet. Hundred and ten once
you accounted for the bookshelves.

Bishop left the room and walked to the other side of the map wall. That door slid open too and Bishop stepped down into the
bathroom, spa and gym area.

No carpet here, only tiles. The bathroom took up half the space and in the centre was a marble-topped unit
with shelves for
towels and lotions. Behind it was an enormous Jacuzzi. More shelves covered the map wall and Bishop checked over the toilet,
bidet, washbasins, step-in shower and larger, closed-off shower. In the far corner by the window was a white marble chamber.
He figured that had to be a steam room.

In the other half of the room was the gym.
Through the wide opening Bishop saw various expensive items of fitness equipment.

He pointed the tape measure through the gap and read the result. Eighty-six feet. Meaning both spaces came up to a hundred
and ninety-six feet in total. Bishop added on another three or four feet to cover the exterior walls and reached the building’s
total width of two hundred feet.
No hidden vault in here. Unless that steam room was more than it pretended to be. He went
over and opened the two-inch-thick door. The room was ten by twenty. Two marble benches faced each other and there was a small
drain in the centre of the floor. Aside from a control panel set into the wall by the door, that was it.

Bishop turned as Luke walked through
the doorway. He looked even less happy than usual.

‘You’re kidding,’ Bishop said.

Luke shook his head. ‘I wish.’ He held up an electronic tape measure similar to Bishop’s. ‘Every inch covered and they all
check out.’

‘And the unmarked room?’

‘The big man’s home from home. Jumbo bed, bathroom, fully stocked kitchen and a living
room bigger than my whole apartment.
Might not have had doors before, but it’s got ’em now. Everything a billionaire could possibly need for a night away from
the wife.’ Luke sighed and leaned both hands on the towel unit. ‘But no vault.’