“Listen, sugar,” Angel said, “if Funt is up there and you start asking him questions with Julia around, she’s going to hear everything. That’s not a good thing. Secrets don’t work if everybody knows them.”
“The last time I spoke with him I left her behind. Look how that turned out,” Chapel said. “No, I can’t let her out of my sight anymore.”
“Director Hollingshead doesn’t want her hearing any of this,” Angel pointed out. “You know that, Chapel.”
Chapel sighed. He knew it perfectly well. He knew he was exceeding the limits of need to know. He was, frankly, taking a running leap and jumping as far as he could humanly get past those limits.
He glanced at Julia. She was part of this. She had a right to know. And maybe that exceeded the right of Hollingshead and Angel and the entire government to keep things from her.
He couldn’t very well say that, of course. He was a silent warrior. The kind of man who could be trusted to keep his mouth shut.
Or at least, he’d thought that was who he was.
“She’s coming with me,” he told Angel.
The operator was silent for a long time. “You’ve been given a lot of latitude on how you work this case,” she said, finally. “That latitude can be taken away. If Director Hollingshead needs to rein you in, he will.”
“Is that a threat, Angel?”
“It’s a friendly warning!” she said, sounding exasperated. “I want you to succeed, sweetie. I want you to win this thing. Why are you fighting me?”
Chapel wasn’t entirely certain himself. But he’d begun to suspect something. He’d known for a while that Angel — and Hollingshead — had their own agenda in this. That capturing or killing the chimeras was only part of what they wanted to accomplish.
Maybe it was time he had his own agenda. Maybe it was time to start thinking about what he wanted to get out of this. He looked at Julia again. This time she looked back, a question on her face.
He still didn’t know what he wanted to happen. He didn’t know how this could end well for anyone. But he was going to make sure Julia came out of this alive. That was a start. Alive, and, if he had anything to say about it, free.
If that fit into Hollingshead’s secret plan, so be it. If not — Chapel would have to start making up his own rules for this game.
He had more important things to worry about just then, though. The time for his meeting with Funt was drawing near. He hadn’t counted on having to wait in line to get to the top of the mountain.
“We’re going to cut it pretty close,” Chapel said, staring at his watch.
The line moved forward again as the next car opened its doors. The tourists, and Chapel and Julia, filed in, filling all the available space. The operator of the Skyride announced that this was the last car of the evening, and that the mountaintop would be closing down in just thirty minutes. The tourists grumbled and booed but good-naturedly, disappointed that they weren’t going to have much time at the top.
In compensation, though, they got to see the carving come alive with the sunset.
Red light washed over the face of Stone Mountain, filling in every crack and crevice of the massive bas-relief. The mountain itself seemed to glow like a titanic jewel, a rich luster that only brightened even as the sun faded.
“That’s kind of beautiful,” Julia said, leaning against the side of the car, pressing her face close to the glass of its windows. Behind her the tourists oohed and aahed, but Chapel only had eyes for her, this woman he’d dragged out of New York City and taken with him on this mad trip.
“It’s exactly the same color as your hair,” he observed.
She turned and faced him, her mouth curled up in a look of bewilderment. “I’m trying to give you the cold shoulder,” she said. “You shouldn’t say things like that to me right now. It was way too close to being sweet.”
“Couldn’t help it,” he told her.
She shook her head and turned to look at the mountain again. “I know you were just trying to protect me. But not telling me about the… about you know what. That wasn’t protecting me. That was hurting me.”
“It was?” Chapel asked.
“You took away my right to make decisions for myself. That’s what I hate about secrets. If I don’t know things, I can’t do anything about them.”
“It’s important that some secrets be kept,” he said. Because it was what he believed.
“I suppose so. And I suppose that’s your job.” She sighed. “Chapel, how can I ever trust somebody when I know they lie to me professionally? This is just weird.”
“I can tell you one true thing,” he said. “When I came out of that hatch in the Underground, and you weren’t there, my heart almost stopped. I didn’t know what had happened to you. I was terrified you were gone. That I’d lost you.”
“As it turned out, I didn’t need your protection,” she told him, though her voice was softer than the words would suggest. “Thanks. I guess.”
“When this is over,” he said, “maybe—”
“When this is over, I’m going back to New York. I’m going to live my life the way I choose to. Openly. Honestly. Or — or I’ll go… where they tell me. The Catskills. Wherever.” She shook her head, and her hair swung around in front of the red-stained mountain. He wanted to reach out and put his hands on her shoulders but he didn’t dare.
“That’s what you want,” he said. It wasn’t a question. “Just — we part ways, then. And I never see you again.”
“Just… stop, Chapel. Don’t go there.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter. Listen, I can’t give you the silent treatment. We’re stuck in this thing together, and if I don’t talk to somebody, I’m going to go crazy. So we’ll work together from now. Be civil to each other. But that’s it. Let’s just keep this relationship professional, okay?” She was silent for the rest of the ride to the top.
STONE MOUNTAIN, GEORGIA: APRIL 13, T+35:31
The top of Stone Mountain looked like a patch of the moon transported to earth.
Nothing grew up there save a few scraggly bushes and some lichens. It was bare rock, smoothed out by the wind but broken into ridges and basins where a little rainwater could gather and support the sparse plant life. By that point the sunset was over, though a yellow smudge of light still lingered on the far horizon. The rock was lit blue with deep purple shadows that were fading to black.
There wasn’t much to see up top. Just a visitors’ center where the Skyride ended, a few radio antennas topped with blinking bulbs to warn off low-flying aircraft — and the view. In the distance Chapel saw the lights of Atlanta scattered among the darkening greenery of Georgia.
A few of the braver tourists walked out onto the naked rock, perhaps in search of better views of the sunset or the scenery. Park rangers stood around with their hands in their pockets, giving everyone a little time before they had to head back down. There was no sign of Jeremy Funt.
“He must be here by now,” Chapel said. “This is right when he told me to meet him. Maybe he’s hiding inside.”
“I wouldn’t blame him,” Julia said, rubbing at her arms.
It was cold up top, much cooler than it had been when they boarded the cable car. She took out the pink sweatshirt she’d bought in the Underground and pulled it on, zipping it up to her throat. “This is the ugliest thing I’ve ever owned,” she said, “but right now, it’s my favorite.”
Chapel wanted to take off his jacket and give it to her, but he couldn’t. If he did, everyone would see his holstered sidearm, and the park rangers would definitely have questions. If he was going to make this meeting with Funt, he had to stay inconspicuous.