Norton turned to look at the man. “What about crime? Looting, violence, that sort of thing. Have you seen any riots?”
“The governor has us sweeping the streets, sir, on a constant basis. We do what we can to keep things calm.”
“That’s a nice nonanswer,” Norton told the man. “Tell me the truth.”
The captain looked down into the darkness. “Rioting is the main problem. The people are actually sticking together, forming neighborhood security groups. But they don’t trust us. There’s a bunch of them think we aren’t doing enough. There have been a couple of armed clashes. A couple of civilians have been shot. When this is over, there’s going to be a reckoning. A lot of us in command wonder if we’re going to get blamed.”
Norton frowned. “I’m sure you’ve acted in a professional manner.”
“Sir, with all due respect — the people down here are righteously pissed.” The captain looked over at Norton, and his eyes were suddenly very tired. “We’re keeping them from actually revolting in the streets. But if the power doesn’t come back soon — or worse, if something else bad happens, like wildfires or mudslides or, God forbid, an earthquake — this place is going to explode.”
Norton remembered something he’d heard many years before, back at West Point. Modern man is a miracle of civilization and sophistication. He is also three hot meals away from barbarism.
The helicopter pilot took them right over the stadium, low enough that Norton could see inside. The stadium lights gave him a great view of all the people in the seats — tens of thousands of them. Families sprawled across whole rows, sleeping under orange survival blankets or patrolling the aisles with baseball bats and chains. Down on the field soldiers marched relief seekers — Norton wondered if a better word was refugees — through metal detectors and intake desks, forcing them to fill out paperwork before they could get food or clean water.
It didn’t take long for them to notice the helicopter — or to react. It started with a dull roar, so low and far away Norton thought it might be distant thunder, but soon the noise rose in pitch as the refugees below screamed up at the chopper, screamed for light or air-conditioning or whatever it was they wanted most. He saw bits of debris floating over the crowd, and the occasional ribbon of white, and suddenly he realized — they were throwing things at him. Government paperwork, empty MRE pouches. The ribbons were rolls of toilet paper unfurling as they arced through the air.
None of it could hit the chopper, of course. Norton was safe up there in the sky.
He was safe.
For the moment.
He pulled out his cell phone and plugged it into his headset. Dialed Charlotte Holman. They needed to talk. “I want you on a plane as soon as possible. Check with my staff for my itinerary. Meet me at my next stop.”
“Of course, sir. May I ask what this is concerning?”
“I want you by my side until this thing is over. I need constant reports and updates. From now forward — nothing else matters.”
Because if Los Angeles was about to fall, it wouldn’t take very long for the rest of the country to follow.
Top, who had been a master gunnery sergeant in the Marines, had never looked worried in his life as far as Chapel knew. He didn’t now, though there were little signs to see if you knew the man well. He wasn’t smiling quite as broadly as he usually did. Instead of a glass eye, today he was just wearing an eyepatch. Of course, it was an eyepatch in a marine camouflage pattern, but even so.
“I got to get to work,” he said. “That hospital doesn’t even wake up until I arrive to properly motivate folks. But before I go, we’re going to settle this. The three of you are welcome in my house any time, for as long as you want.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Chapel told him.
On the kitchen table between them lay Top’s cell phone. He’d put it there so Chapel could listen to a voice-mail message Top had received an hour earlier. A message from Brent Wilkes, asking if Top would be willing to come in to the local police station to answer some questions.
“I didn’t think they would make the connection between you and me,” Chapel said, though saying it out loud made him realize how dumb he’d been. The NSA probably had a dossier on him a yard thick, and somewhere in there would be the fact that Top had worked with Chapel as his physical therapist after he came home from Afghanistan.
Most likely Wilkes was interviewing every known associate in Chapel’s file. He’d probably bothered Chapel’s parents and sister first, then worked his way down the list until he harassed Chapel’s dry cleaner and his barber. Top would definitely be on the list. It only made sense to make those phone calls. Chapel was trained in how to live on the run, how to keep a low profile. But that was a hard road for a man to go alone. Most fugitives did exactly as Chapel had — they found a friend who would hide them for a while.
“Could just be a coincidence,” Top pointed out.
“They believe in those, in the Marines? Coincidences? In the Rangers we used to say that a coincidence was guaranteed to be somebody getting ready to kill you.”
“In the Corps we just assumed everybody was doing that whether we saw any clues or not,” Top said. He shrugged, the empty sleeve of his work shirt flapping against his side. “All right, seeing as this guy is the one who tried to kill you the other night, I suppose we can assume the worst. But so what? I go in, he asks me, have you seen this man, I say, no, sir, can’t say as I have. And then I walk back out.”
“He’s trained in interrogation,” Chapel pointed out. “And he’s an expert poker player, so he can spot a bluff. I should know — I still owe him six bags of chips.”
Top shook his head. “I can’t believe they’d send a serviceman after you. You army grunts sure know a bit about loyalty, don’t you? You could try a little semper fi now and again.”
“Wilkes isn’t army. He’s a marine. MARSOC — the Raiders.”
Top leaned back in his chair. “Aw, shit. Now we are in trouble. All right. So say you refuse my hospitality and get back in the wind. Where are you going to go next?”
“No idea. And it’s probably best I don’t tell you, anyway.”
Top nodded. “Sure.” He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “So you want me to just blow this guy off? Never show up for my interview?”
“No. That’ll definitely make him suspicious. Just — don’t say much. Answer his questions with as few words as possible. Act like you wished you could help but he’s out of luck. It’ll help if you know that when you’re talking to him, I’ll already be gone.”
Top got up from the table. “Any chance that when you go you’ll leave one or more of those fine ladies behind to keep me company?”
Chapel grinned. “Dolores might mind.”
“She might at that. Okeydokey, smokey. You take care of yourself, Captain.”
Chapel looked away. He didn’t want Top to see the look on his face. “I can’t thank you enough,” he said.
“The bond you and me have is supposed to go beyond words,” Top told him. “Same as for all my boys. Not that you’d know from all the jawboning goes on around here twenty-four seven. Now, I’m going to be late for work, and all the pretty nurses are on the night shift and if I don’t get there on time, I miss my chance to make them blush.”