“That’s all right,” Chapel said. “I’d rather have a false alarm than not get a real one. You okay out there?”
“Fine. A little chilly. How’s it going inside?”
“We’re making progress. Okay. Signing off,” Chapel said.
He put the phone back in his pocket.
Angel laughed, though not because anything was funny. She was just relieved. “Unless the drone hijackers have figured out a way to weaponize raccoons, I guess we’re okay.”
Chapel nodded. “Good to keep on our toes, though. What else can you tell me about the people who hacked you?”
Angel shrugged her slim shoulders. “They’re good. Really good. Even if they had backdoor access to my system, I was online at the time. I should have been able to tell there were two users active. I would have noticed a lag — the computer would have slowed down as it tried to serve two users at once. I would have felt there was something wrong.”
“But you didn’t? Is that possible?”
“This is kind of genius. They actually overclocked my processor. Made it run faster, just to compensate for any apparent lag. I would never have thought of that. But it tells me two things. One, that whoever did this knows computers inside and out. They aren’t just good at hacking, they’re legendary.”
“What’s the other thing?”
“They knew me, too. They anticipated what I would do, how I would react, while they were inside my system. I don’t think this was anybody I know personally, but they’ve studied me. Watched me, probably for a long time. Chapel, that just sends chills down my spine. It means—”
Chapel’s cell phone squawked again. Angel fell silent instantly as she stared at his pants pocket.
“Just another raccoon,” Chapel said, because he didn’t want to panic her. He took out the phone and lifted it to his ear. “Julia?” he said.
There was no response. The phone didn’t even hiss or crackle in his ear. Which meant that Julia had switched off her phone altogether.
Or somebody else had done it for her.
Chapel leaned gently on the bar that opened the fire door at the back of the store. He peered out into the gloom of the loading dock but he couldn’t see anything. He definitely couldn’t see Julia.
He pushed the door open a few more inches. A pair of women’s shoes appeared just at the edge of his view. He leaned out a little more and saw Julia down on the ground, her face covered by red hair. Her cell phone lay on the pavement a few feet away.
Somebody had stomped on it. Its case was cracked until bits of green circuit board poked out.
Chapel fought to control his emotions. Julia might be dead out there, or just unconscious. Either way, whoever had attacked her was still—
The door jumped out of his hands as someone yanked it away from him. Chapel reacted without thinking, ducking low in a crouch and exploding outward, right into the legs of his opponent. He didn’t care who it was — a cop, a Chinese assassin, whatever, he had to take them down fast so he could go check on Julia.
But whoever it was, they were ready for him. They stepped aside like a matador evading a charging bull.
Chapel knew right away that he’d misjudged his charge, that he was going to end up sprawled on the ground — momentum alone would carry him there. So instead of trying to get back to his feet he swiveled at the waist and reached out to grab at his attacker’s legs. The attacker was too fast and he only managed to get a handful of pant leg, but it was enough to pull the attacker off balance.
Even before Chapel hit the ground he brought his knees up, protecting his chest. As the attacker reached down for him, Chapel felt his shoulder hit the pavement. With his free hand he reached up and grabbed, not even caring what he got, just knowing he needed, desperately, to get his attacker down on the ground with him.
It almost worked. The other man should have taken a step forward as he reached for Chapel and that should have let Chapel flip him.
Instead the attacker took a step back, steadying himself.
Which left Chapel lying on the ground, looking up at the man who towered over him.
“Wilkes?” he said, completely taken by surprise. “You’re dead.”
The marine gave him a quick shrug. “Shit, somebody coulda told me.”
Chapel shifted his weight, getting both his arms free. If he could distract Wilkes even for a split second, he could kick the man’s legs out from under him. He could—
Wilkes took another step back. Then he pulled a handgun from his belt. A compact SIG Sauer 9 mm with a silencer screwed onto the barrel. “Just cool down, Jimmy. Okay?” he said, as he leveled the gun and pointed it at Chapel’s face. “We’re going to do this by the numbers. You keep your hands visible. I know there’s no point tying you up, ’cause you’d just slip your plastic arm off or pull some kind of magic trick like that. I’ve read some of your after-action reports.”
Chapel knew when he was beat. If he was standing, if Wilkes weren’t so well trained, maybe he could have wrestled with the marine and gotten the gun away from him. But that wasn’t going to happen now. “What did you do to Julia?” he asked.
“Just knocked her out. She’ll wake up with a nasty headache in a while, but if she’s lucky I won’t be here by then. She didn’t even see me coming.”
Chapel blinked. “So she didn’t see your face.”
“Yep. Which means she comes out of this okay. Now, get up. Slowly, buddy. We both know the rules.”
Chapel did as he was told. He got his knees under him, then put one foot down on the pavement, keeping his hands in the air. He turned around and let Wilkes pat him down.
“Not even a derringer in your boot, huh?” Wilkes said when he’d finished his search. “Figured you would have found a weapon by now. Never know who’s going to sneak up on you in the dark. Okay, Jimmy. Let’s go inside. I’ll be right behind you, but not close enough to touch. Understand? Say yes if you think you got this one figured out.”
“Yes,” Chapel said. “Listen, Wilkes — did Hollingshead send you to bring me in? Because there are some things he needs to know.”
“Open the door for me,” Wilkes said.
Chapel opened the door and held it while Wilkes braced it with his foot. Then the two of them stepped into the stockroom. Chapel’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness outside and now he could barely see in the dazzling light. Wilkes would probably be in the same boat, but Chapel knew that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to get out of this without getting himself shot.
“No, it wasn’t Hollingshead,” Wilkes said. “The old man’s been relieved of duty. Probably going to catch an espionage charge off this, if not full-on treason.”
“What? He had nothing to do with this!”
Wilkes didn’t respond to that. “Keep moving. Straight ahead. I’m thinking you have Angel in here, and I need her, too.”
“So who are you working for?” Chapel asked. He needed to know if he was about to be arrested — or killed.
“Charlotte Holman,” Wilkes told him.
“The NSA?”
“We’re going to wrap up this conversation now, Jimmy,” Wilkes said. “You go ahead and keep moving.”
Chapel did what he was told.
This was bad. This was very, very bad. The jig was up, and he would spend the rest of his life in jail. There was no way he could fight Wilkes, nor was there any way he could run, not without being shot.
There was only one bright spot in the whole thing.
As Wilkes marched him into the middle of the stockroom, into the circle of video-game consoles arrayed on the floor, there was no sign of Angel.
She’d been smart enough to get away.
At least one of them had.