Backtrack 2 by Jason Dean

Author:Jason Dean [Dean, Jason]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller
ISBN: 0755383079
Amazon: 0755383079
Goodreads: 17168453
Publisher: Headline Book Publishing
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

FORTY-NINE

‘Wait,’ Tatem yelled, gripping the arms of the chair. His eyes were wild. ‘Please. You can’t do this. What have I done to you?’

Bishop didn’t reply. Silence was always better in these kinds of situations. More threatening. His encounter with Addison had proved that. But at least he’d knocked the fatalism out of the guy. No good trying to get information out of a man who’d already accepted death. But possible death by fire was another matter. Nobody wanted that.

Keeping one eye on Tatem, he just kept splashing gas over the furniture. The filing cabinets. The bookcase. The drapes. The walls, too. Everywhere except the two chairs. Once he was satisfied, he shook the can. It was still about half full.

‘Please stop,’ Tatem said. ‘Won’t you just tell me why you’re doing this?’

Bishop screwed the top back on and placed the can on the floor. Then he took a lighter and an opened pack of Winston cigarettes from his pocket. ‘You a smoker, doc?’

‘What is it you want? Money?’

‘Don’t blame you. Neither am I, but I don’t mind making an exception now and then.’ Bishop took a cigarette from the pack and inserted it between his lips. ‘As for money, I already got a roof over my head, and I can afford food and clothes. What else can you offer me?’

‘I can give you enough for luxuries.’

‘Breathing’s a luxury, doc. Don’t you know that by now?’ Bishop half sat on the edge of the desk and said, ‘You got any idea where I was last night?’

Tatem shook his head. ‘No. How could I?’

‘Well, I’ll tell you. I was trapped in a burning building with all the exits covered and a dead body at my feet, courtesy of some friends of yours. Now I’m returning the compliment.’

‘Friends of . . .? I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Bishop took the cigarette from his mouth and began rolling it between his fingers. Looking at it, he said, ‘You know, back when I was in the service, years ago this is, me and my squad were in Mogadishu, Somalia, not long after the civil war broke out. The “why” is a long story and doesn’t matter now, but this one night we were in the very worst part of town when we got ambushed by a group of al-Ittihad al-Islami terrorists. You ever hear of them?’

Tatem shook his head and said nothing.

‘Most of them are born sadists. At least, the ones who caught us were. They love to watch their enemies die as painfully as possible. It’s like a game to them. So what they did was take us all to an empty warehouse and four of them held me down while the others tied the rest of my men up. Then I was forced to watch the youngest man on my squad being drenched in gasoline. Then they threw a lit book of matches at him and watched him burn. They were laughing all the way through it.’ He paused. ‘You know how long it took for him to die?’

Tatem shook his head again.

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