The Wrong Man Read Online Free

looked. But then, to be a successful hustler he probably had to
     be. ‘All right,’ Bishop said, ‘let’s get it over with.’
    ‘Get what over with?’
    ‘You’re building up to a question. I can feel it.’
    After a few moments chewing his inner cheek, Falstaff said, ‘Okay, I admit I got curious. A while back one of my sources got
     me a copyof the trial transcript and the thing kept me up all night. Man, all that evidence they used on you . . .’ Placing the
     books in his shirt pocket, he leaned forward and used his fingers to count off all the points Bishop knew by heart. The knife.
     The blueprints. The offshore account. Natalie Brennan. The bullets in Oates.
    Bishop only half listened. In hisdefence, he could have told Falstaff how ballistic fingerprinting was hardly an exact science,
     especially when it came to the problematic polygonal rifling of a Glock. Or how hard it was to convince a jury you’d been
     unconscious for the entire duration of the assault when doctors had failed to find any trace of a drug in your system. But
     he just waited for Falstaff to finishand said, ‘So?’
    ‘A hell of a lot of work just to get you sent up the river, ain’t it? Expensive, too.’
    Bishop sighed. This wasn’t exactly news to him. Although it
was
the first time he’d heard it come from somebody else’s mouth. ‘That your question?’
    ‘Uh, uh. My question is, just what did Brennan
keep
in that vault in the first place? TheArk of the Covenant?’
    Bishop shrugged, ‘Hey, your guess is as good as mine.’ The only thing he did know for sure was it had to be more than two
     million. He arched both eyebrows at Falstaff and said, ‘Anything else I can help you with, or can we get back to business?’
    Falstaff grinned and tapped his shirt pocket. ‘I believe we’re good to go.’
    ‘All right. How long?’
    ‘Three, three and a half weeks. Maybe more. Depends on availability, you know?’
    That meant another twenty-four days. At least. ‘No good. That’s too long.’
    Falstaff shrugged. ‘Hey, the Buddha’s a breeze, but the other thing ain’t gonna be easy, even for me. Gonna take a lot of
     arranging I hadn’t plannedon.’
    And at that moment, a big, shaven-headed Aryan with a face full of hate pushed open the entrance doors and stared straight
     at Falstaff.

FIVE
    Out the corner of his eye, Bishop watched the two cons at the tables silently get up and walk out. He kept watching as the
     thug came forward and leaned against the table nearest them, his thick arms folded across his chest, sleeves rolled up to
     show off the tats. Up close he wasn’t pretty. He had a mass of acne scars that went right downto his neck and a nose too
     big for his face.
    Falstaff followed Bishop’s stare and frowned when he saw the large man.
    ‘I told you about my refund policy, Alvin,’ he said. ‘And you got what you wanted in the end.’
    ‘I’m here about something else,’ said Alvin, smiling. It wasn’t a friendly smile. He finally turned to Bishop and tilted hishead to indicate the rest was a private matter.
    Bishop got the message. He shrugged at Falstaff and sauntered past him towards the gap between the reading tables. In Alvin’s
     right-hand pocket he saw the irregular shape jutting out.
Shiv
, he thought, which meant the back-up would be just outside. As he passed between the reading tables he casually picked upthe thick, well-thumbed copy of
GQ
left there by its previous owner and began leafing through it as he walked.
    As he approached the door, Bishop raised his eyes to the two cams located in each corner ahead of him. The one covering the
     right half of the room still had its green indicator light on, but the other had nothing. Not even a red one. Bishop guessedAlvin had known about the camera being out of service before he’d even entered the library. For the moment, Big Brother was
     definitely
not
watching. At least, not where it mattered.
    He pushed through the door and in the