Maybe they were even friends. Chapel had wondered why she was allowed to remain at large, knowing what she knew. Having as much exposure to the virus as she must have had. Hollingshead must have been protecting her this whole time.
She had told Chapel something else, as well. She’d told him she’d been originally hired to work at Camp Putnam by a man in a uniform. A captain in a navy uniform.
“Did you say something, Chapel?”
It was Angel’s voice in his ear.
“Angel,” he said, “can you tell me something about Admiral Hollingshead? Nothing secret. Just — when was he promoted to admiral?”
“I doubt he’d want me answering that,” she said, “but… you could just Google it yourself, so, okay.” She worked her keyboard for a moment. “It was after Operation Desert Storm, in 1991.”
Ellie had been recruited in 1990. Back then Hollingshead would have been a captain. In the navy.
“Okay,” Chapel said. “Thanks.”
He settled back into the seat and closed his eyes again.
In his head the pieces fit together, revealing more of the picture.
IN TRANSIT: APRIL 14, T+55:21
The plane set down at Denver International Airport and before it had even finished taxiing to the terminal, cars were already moving on the tarmac, headed to meet them. There were three cars, all black late-model sedans with tinted windows. Anybody who saw them would know instantly they were full of security for some VIP.
When the cars reached the plane, a trio of men in black suits and sunglasses poured out and took up defensive positions surrounding the cars. Each of them carried a shotgun in plain sight. They made a good show of tapping their ears and calling out status updates to each other.
“They’re not bothering with a low profile,” Chapel said, as he and Julia watched the convoy approach. “That’s probably a mistake. A chimera on his own might not know what all this signifies. But the Voice will.”
“You think that Quinn will attack during the transfer,” Julia said, because he’d filled her in on what he’d learned of Hayes’s itinerary.
“I would, if I were trying to kill him. It’s when he’s most at risk. But there are ways of avoiding that — or even using this kind of display to our advantage. We could put the judge in a nondescript car, let Quinn attack the security detail and then have the judge’s car speed away in the middle of things.” Chapel threw up his hands. “But it’s not up to me. I don’t take charge of security until we reach this undisclosed location. I can’t give any orders until then, so I’ll just have to play this straight.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Julia said.
“Ah.” Chapel turned away from the window and looked at her face. “About that.”
Julia sighed. “You’re not taking me with you, are you?”
Chapel tried to pick his words very carefully, this time. “No. I want you to stay here, on the plane. So you can be ready to get out of here at a moment’s notice. Chief Petty Officer Andrews is armed. I’ve already spoken with her, before you woke up. She knows that the CIA may attempt to get at you. Her orders are to try to get the plane out of here before they arrive — or to defend the aircraft if anyone tries to board it.”
“Chapel—”
“You’ll be safe here. This plane looks like a normal corporate jet, but it’s actually been uparmored. It’s designed to resist small-arms fire. I know that every time we separate something bad happens, but—”
“Chapel, okay! I get it. You can’t take me with you this time.”
“It would be kind of hard to explain to the judge what you’re doing here. I can’t really pass you off as my secretary.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “I said I get it. I’ll stay here.”
“You don’t seem very happy about it,” he pointed out. He’d expected that, of course. “I know you don’t like being left in the dark. The last time I left you behind… I can only say I’m sorry about that. I promise this time is different.”
“It’s not that,” Julia said.
“No?”
“No.” She reached over and put a hand on his cheek. That he hadn’t expected at all. “It’s not that at all.”
“What happened to our professional arrangement?” he asked, before he could stop himself.
“Chapel, for a guy whose job is to keep secrets, sometimes you don’t know when to shut up,” she said. He saw in her eyes then that she was upset, definitely — but for once she was not upset with him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, softly.
“It’s what I see in your eyes. You’re leaving me here because you don’t expect to come back, yourself.” She looked down at her lap. “You think you’re going to die here.”
“It’s not like I want to,” he tried.
She pressed her face against his chest. “You could just say no. You could quit. You could tell them all to fuck themselves and then run away. We could run away.”
Chapel stroked her hair. For a while he just held her.
Then he whispered, “No. No, I can’t.”
That wasn’t who he was.
She nodded against his chest. “Chapel. You go do what you have to do. When you’re done, I’ll be here, waiting for you so we can fly off on our next big adventure. Okay? I’ll be right here.”
They waited together in silence while CPO Andrews opened the hatch and readied the debarkation stairs.
DENVER INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, COLORADO: APRIL 14, T+55:36
One of the black-suited men was waiting for Chapel when he came down the jet’s stairs. The security guard did not offer to shake his hand. “Captain Chapel,” he said, in a flat voice, “welcome to Denver. We’re to take you directly to His Honor.”
“Sure,” Chapel said. “He’s at the courthouse, right?”
“My instructions are to take you to him,” the guard said.
“Are you Reinhard?” Chapel asked.
“I’m just here to take you to him,” the guard repeated.
“Fine.” Chapel walked over to the nearest car. The guard at least held the door for him. “You’ve been given orders not to answer any questions, right?”
“I’ve been given orders to escort you to His Honor,” the guard told him.
After that Chapel kept his mouth shut.
The three cars headed out of the airport and up a major highway toward the city. Outside the airport, broad fields cut by irrigation ditches lay yellow and bedraggled in the sun. The sky was huge. Chapel had been out west before, and should have known to expect it, but still it was always a surprise. The flat land of the prairies meant you could see for miles in every direction, and that made the sky just look bigger than it did back east.
The effect wasn’t diminished much even when the cars rolled through a zone of strip malls and old box stores, auto parts warehouses and colossal Laundromats, all of them looking dusty and worn. This part of Denver had no trees, just broad roads laid out in a perfectly square grid. The car rolled down Colfax Avenue, through a zone of strip clubs and bars, and soon enough Chapel could see the city’s handful of skyscrapers sticking up from the flat ground ahead of them.
At the courthouse the cars pulled into an underground lot, and Chapel blinked as they left the sun behind. Someone opened Chapel’s door, and he stepped out onto concrete that stank of old motor oil.
“This way,” the security guard said. He wore his sunglasses even indoors.
Chapel was ushered up an elevator and through a small office where a dozen State Highway Patrol troopers were drinking coffee and talking about football. This must be the security detail he was supposed to take over, but none of them would even meet his eye. His black-suited escort didn’t let him linger in that office but directed him through and into a larger office beyond.