“No,” Hollingshead said, “I can see it in your eyes. You’re too smart to throw your life away like that, either. If it will accomplish nothing. Well”—he sighed—“son, maybe you should think more on what you’re going to do. But perhaps you can wait on that until you’re done with your assignment.”
“I — sir?” Chapel was deeply confused. Hollingshead couldn’t mean what he’d just implied, could he?
“I’m sending you to Denver, right now,” Hollingshead said. “Come now, Captain. You look honestly surprised.”
“I suppose I didn’t expect that after… what I said,” he tried.
“Oh, Captain, I assure you. I have not yet begun to chew you out, as the men say. This conversation will continue at some future date. But I need you in Denver because there is a chimera there about to try to kill Franklin Hayes. Quite clearly, I have no time to brief or ready anyone else. Director Banks and I agree that what we need, right now, is boots on the ground — not stewing in a cell in some loathsome brig. So you will go to Denver and you will continue the job we assigned you.”
“Sir?” Chapel asked. And he knew it was over. He wasn’t going to get his moment of righteous indignation after all. It burned inside him still, but Hollingshead had moved on. Cut the floor out from under Chapel’s feet and gotten back to what mattered to him.
“There will be a chimera attack in Denver, and it will happen today,” Hollingshead said. His tone told Chapel this was not speculation. “The judge’s security team will not be prepared to defeat it. If you aren’t there, son, loaded for bear and knowing what you know — it will succeed.”
“It… will,” Chapel said. He knew he would not be allowed to know how Hollingshead could be so certain.
“And if that happens, Tom Banks will win.”
“Win,” Chapel said. Because he couldn’t think of what else to say.
He had been mistaken, it seemed. He had been mistaken all along. He’d thought Hollingshead had given him this mission so he could protect the people on the list.
That had been foolish, it seemed. Apparently, to both the CIA and the Pentagon, this was a game.
Hollingshead rose stiffly to his feet, then pulled back the canvas cover at the back of the truck. “Follow me, please,” the admiral said.
Chapel followed him out of the truck and down onto a concrete surface that he thought he recognized. He looked up and saw that he’d been brought to the same airport in the Catskills where he’d landed the night before. Hollingshead’s jet was sitting on the runway, ready to take off. Nearby was the helicopter Chapel had heard — it must have brought Hollingshead here.
A sailor came up to unlock Chapel’s handcuffs. The same sailor returned his phone, his hands-free set, and his sidearm. He checked the action and the magazine and saw it had been cleaned and reloaded for him.
He had begun to suspect that Hollingshead wasn’t on his side. That the admiral was working against him in some nefarious way. He lacked any real proof or any good reason to believe that other than a hunch and a few scraps of half-certain information.
Now this — all this, the guilt trip, the threats of criminal charges, the sudden reversal and reinstatement… was it all part of the deeper game? Was it just a way to make Chapel step back in line?
That was intelligence work for you. It was impossible to ever really know who you could trust.
Hollingshead met Chapel’s eye one last time before sending him away. “You will protect Franklin Hayes to the utmost of your ability,” the admiral said. “When that is done… we will address your future. But for right now, Chapel, I need you — God protect us all.”
Chapel climbed inside the jet, and Chief Petty Officer Andrews closed the hatch.
When she’d finished, the CPO turned to give Chapel a long and questioning look. “I’ve got new orders, now,” she said.
“I know. You’re taking me to Denver.”
She nodded. “And if you try to divert the plane, I’m supposed to shoot you. Are you going to push it, or do you want to sit down and wait until I have the towels heated and your breakfast cooked?”
Chapel hadn’t eaten or slept in quite a while. “I’ll be a good boy,” he said.
She nodded and headed toward the back of the cabin. “It’s almost four hours to Denver from here. Get comfortable.”
Chapel nodded and headed toward one of the seats, intending to sit down and promptly pass out.
Before he could even pick which seat looked the most comfortable, though, one of them swiveled around and Julia jumped out of it, rushing over to put her arms around him.
He was surprised to see her there, to say the least. After what Hollingshead had said to him in the truck, he assumed he would never see her again. “Are you all right?” he asked her.
She nodded, her head against his shoulder. “They asked me a million questions, but nobody beat me with a rubber hose or anything, if that’s what you mean. Then that nice old man — your boss, right? — he told me to get on the plane. He said I was your responsibility now, and you’d have to figure out what to do with me.”
None of this made any sense, Chapel thought. Not a bit.
He knew he was glad to see her, though. He lifted his hand to stroke her back.
And just like that the moment between them was over. She pushed him away, and when he looked in her face again, he saw she had recovered herself, that she was back to their professional relationship.
But for a second there, when she’d first seen him, there’d been something more. She had looked to him for something not professional at all — comfort. She must have been terrified when the navy men interrogated her. She must have wondered if she would ever see daylight again. So when she saw Chapel, she’d known that she was going to be okay, and she had run to him in relief. Maybe that was all there was to it. But maybe…
He shook his head and forced himself not to think stupid thoughts.
IN TRANSIT: APRIL 14, T+51:07
Julia was exhausted enough that she fell asleep soon after they took off, but Chapel still had some work to do. He would try to take a nap before they landed in Denver — his body was certainly ready for it — but he needed at least some information on what he was getting himself into.
So he plugged the hands-free set into his ear.
“Angel,” he said, “are you online?”
“I’m here, Captain,” she said.
Chapel closed his eyes. This wasn’t going to be fun. “So it’s Captain, now. Not sweetie, or sugar?”
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve gotten me in?” Angel asked. She didn’t sound particularly angry, though. More concerned.
“I’m sorry, Angel. I truly am.”
“Apparently — and I have this from on high — I’ll be listed as a conspirator when they charge you for espionage. That means I could face the same penalty you do. Do you know what the penalty is for espionage?”
“All too well. Listen, Angel, it won’t come to that. Conspiracy charges are just a way to get accomplices to provide information on the principal in any investigation. Which means if you tell them everything, they’ll let you off.”
“You mean, if I throw you under the bus.”
“It’s not a betrayal if I tell you it’s okay,” Chapel said. “I don’t want you to suffer because I made some bad decisions.”
Angel sounded a little less upset, but she still didn’t call him sweetie. “Okay, okay, enough. We can have a blame party later,” Angel said. “Tell me what you need now. And I’ll let you know if you’re approved for it.”