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But if he didn’t go down there and talk to Hollingshead, he would never know what the admiral wanted to say for himself.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going in. Let me know the second you see any suspicious movement near my location.”

“You got it, honey.”

Chapel strode quickly over to the bench and sat down. He did not look at Hollingshead. The admiral seemed slightly surprised to see him.

“Is that a mannequin arm in your sleeve there, son?” he asked.

“Your people would be looking for a one-armed man,” Chapel said. “My artificial arm was destroyed in Denver, so I had to improvise.”

“Clever.”

For a while they sat in silence. Chapel waited to see armed soldiers come running at him, weapons ready, but none appeared.

Hollingshead continued to eat his sandwich. He said nothing.

“Banks was behind it all,” Chapel said, finally, though he was relatively certain Hollingshead already knew that. “I can’t prove it, though. He used Laughing Boy as a cutout. Laughing Boy was the Voice. That disposable phone I found in Camp Putnam that you took from me. It would have told you as much.”

“Indeed,” Hollingshead said.

“He released the chimeras. Gave them the kill list and sent them out to murder everyone on it. If they failed, he would still have the excuse the targets had been exposed to the virus, so he could kill them anyway. It was all about cleaning up a mess. Your mess. Fixing the chimera problem, and fixing it quietly, will earn Banks some favors in the White House. And meanwhile he’ll have a pet judge on the Supreme Court, in Hayes. The CIA is going to come out of this looking like a bunch of heroes.”

“You’ve figured it all out,” Hollingshead agreed.

“Not all of it. I thought you were on my side, but then you betrayed me.”

“Interesting. That’s how you saw it?”

“How else can I see it?” Chapel asked. “You knew what was going to happen in Denver. You knew it was a suicide mission. But when I started to figure it out, when I started to ask questions, you shut me down. And then you threw me under that particular bus. You all but sent me to Denver at gunpoint.”

Hollingshead took a bite of his sandwich. “I suppose I did.”

“I know why you picked me. I get it now. You said you didn’t pick my name out of a hat. That was true. Banks would have vetoed anyone you chose for this mission, if he thought they had a chance to succeed. So you called up a semiretired one-armed guy in his forties, long past his prime. Me. You needed to sacrifice somebody and I was expendable. I understand that. Obviously I don’t like it.”

“Obviously.”

“But I understand it. I just can’t figure this one thing out, though. What did you stand to gain from this?”

“I beg your pardon?”

Chapel shook his head in disgust. “It was a game. The CIA and the DIA were playing a game, with Camp Putnam as the chessboard. Right?”

Hollingshead nodded. “Darling Green was a DoD project, and for a long time we owned it lock, stock, and barrel. That changed when Malcolm escaped. That wasn’t supposed to happen. The CIA was brought in to cover external security on Camp Putnam. Ever since then they’ve been trying to take over the whole thing.”

“Why would they even want a mess like that?”

Hollingshead smiled warmly. “Until you can answer that question, you’ll never truly understand politics, son. Why did the U.K. go to war over the Falkland Islands? Because they thought it belonged to them, and people with power will never give up power voluntarily.”

Chapel laughed, a short, bitter laugh. “So to take over Camp Putnam, Banks had to blow part of it up. Wow. By letting the chimeras out, they became an external security problem. His bailiwick.”

“But his mole failed. I was called in before he was. So I retained some oversight on the recovery effort.” Hollingshead put his sandwich down. “I was allowed to bring you in, as a last attempt to save myself from disgrace.”

“Except — you didn’t. You had every chance to make that work. But you threw the game. You could have warned me not to go to Denver. If I didn’t go, there would never have been an attempt on Hayes’s life. Hayes needed a martyr for his cause, and until I arrived he couldn’t play out his false flag operation. You could have ruined all of Banks’s plans by just telling me not to go. Instead you sent me in with a pat on the back. Certain that I would get myself killed just like Banks wanted.”

“No,” Hollingshead said.

“No?”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

“Admiral. With all due respect, sir. Don’t lie to me now. It’s not going to get you anywhere.”

Hollingshead sighed. “You think so little of me. Are you armed, Captain? Did you come here to kill me? Let me tell you a little story first if you’d be so, ah, kind. Don’t worry. It’s quite short.”

“I’m listening.”

“About two years ago I fell down a flight of stairs. Terrible bother of a thing, broke my femur if you can believe it. When you’re as old as me that can happen, apparently. I had to have a hip replaced, too, which — son, be glad you aren’t old enough to know this yet — is one of the most debilitating surgeries there is. After the replacement I needed lengthy and quite, oh, decidedly unpleasant physical therapy.”

Chapel frowned. Where was Hollingshead going with this?

“I went to Walter Reed for it. And there I met a man who was going to become a very good friend of mine, despite the fact that I cursed his name every day. A physical therapist, a fellow with one arm, one leg, and one eye.”

“Wait — you’re talking about Top,” Chapel said.

“I’m talking about the meanest son of a bitch I ever met,” Hollingshead confirmed, “and the man who made sure I am not in a wheelchair today. A man who, despite my advanced age, insisted that I consider myself one of his ‘boys.’ ”

“You’re definitely talking about Top.”

Hollingshead nodded. “Top had one bit of conversation he kept coming back to. Just how lucky I was. I certainly didn’t feel that way. But he would continuously point out that while I had lost a hip, my new one was a perfectly good replacement. I was far luckier, he kept telling me, than boys of his who had lost arms and legs. He occasionally mentioned one of his boys who had lost an arm. A boy from Military Intelligence with one arm who had somehow taught him — taught Top, that is — how to swim. He was unabashedly proud of this particular boy.”

Chapel didn’t know what to say.

“When Tom Banks came to my office and I could see in his eyes he would never accept a young, strong, whole man for this mission, I rejoiced, honestly. I finally had the chance to activate the operative I’d wanted to meet for so long. I most certainly didn’t pick your name out of a hat, son. I’d been following your career for months, waiting until I had the perfect opportunity to bring you into my personal fold. When I discovered what Banks had planned for my operative in Denver, I didn’t hesitate for a second to recommend you for that particular mission.”

“Now you’re losing me,” Chapel said.

“I didn’t send you to die there, son. You’re one of Top’s boys. I sent you there because I knew nobody else could live through it.”

Chapel could only stare in disbelief.

“It had to happen that way. It had to come to all this. It is a sad fact of our particular line of work that the pieces on the game board can never be allowed to know all the rules of the game they’re playing out,” Hollingshead said. “Perhaps most sad is the fact they rarely know if they’re winning or losing.”