“The closest airport is fine,” Chapel told him. “Help me get this man onboard,” he said, pointing at Funt. “Are we taking the body as well?”
“No, a second craft is coming for that. The two medics I brought will guard the body until it arrives. I don’t suppose you can tell me what’s going on here? I’m not even supposed to be on this shift.”
“Where are you stationed?” Chapel asked.
“Fort McPherson, sir,” the pilot told him.
“Oh, so you’re army,” Chapel said, nodding. “So you’ll understand when I say no, I can’t tell you anything.”
“Sir, yes, sir,” the pilot said, shaking his head.
Together they loaded Funt onto the stretcher and carried it back to the chopper. The ex-FBI man didn’t wake up. His face was bright with sweat, and when Julia came over and pulled one of his eyelids back, the eye underneath failed to track. “His body knows best,” she told Chapel, when he asked if Funt was going to be all right. “When he wakes up, he’s going to be in incredible pain — that arm is shattered. So his body put him to sleep. We should leave him that way if we can, though we need to keep him warm. His body temperature is very low.”
Chapel nodded and put his phone to his ear. “Angel, we’ve got Funt and he’s alive but badly hurt. This chopper’s going to take us to an airport nearby. Can you have an ambulance waiting?”
“I’m on it,” Angel said.
Julia jumped into the back of the chopper where she could sit with Funt and keep an eye on him. Chapel ran around the nose of the aircraft so he could take the copilot seat. Before he got in, though, he took one last look at the top of Stone Mountain — and the body of the second dead chimera he’d seen in two days.
“Angel,” Chapel said, “what are they going to do with Malcolm?”
“A quick cremation. That’s all,” Angel told him. “The men I sent you are trained in bacteriological warfare protocols. They’ll be safe.”
Chapel nodded. There wouldn’t be any ceremony for Malcolm, he knew. No prayers, no weeping mourners.
Maybe it was for the best. The chimera had been a killer, through and through. He’d lived for nothing but revenge. After the story Funt had told, though, Chapel couldn’t shake an image from his head: a ten-year-old boy, sitting in a tree house, scared and very, very alone. Not knowing what kind of future waited for him. Barely aware of where he was.
Enough. Chapel’s job was to hunt down four chimeras, and he was half done.
He climbed into the helicopter and pulled on a crash helmet. “Let’s go,” he told the pilot.
IN TRANSIT: APRIL 13, T+36:48
The chopper set down — much more smoothly this time — on a helipad at DeKalb-Peachtree Airport, only a few miles away from Stone Mountain. An airport medical team was waiting to take Funt away in an ambulance that sat waiting on the tarmac. Angel had timed everything perfectly, as usual.
Julia ran over to the ambulance to tell the paramedics what she knew about Funt’s condition. The medical team didn’t waste any time getting him out of there. When Julia came back to the helipad, she was frowning. “Will he be safe if they take him to the hospital?” she asked. “Laughing Boy may be out of the picture, but—”
Chapel nodded. The CIA had been trying to kill Funt for years. This was the perfect chance. They could even make it look like a natural death, like he had died of his injuries. “They’re not taking him to a civilian hospital,” he told her. In fact he’d been in touch with Admiral Hollingshead and arranged for Funt to be taken to a military hospital where he could be guarded night and day until he recovered. “As long as they keep him alive until he’s conscious, I’m okay with this. Once he’s awake, well, we saw how good he is at keeping one step ahead of them.”
Julia shrugged. “I guess it’s all we can do. What’s next?”
Chapel nodded toward a nearby runway. Hollingshead’s personal jet was already taxiing toward them. “Say good-bye to Atlanta.”
“Gladly,” Julia said. Her red hair whipped in the breeze. “I’m about ready for another of those goat cheese and mandarin orange salads, too. How can I be hungry at a time like this? I should be sitting in a corner crying my eyes out, begging for somebody to make everything okay. Chapel, I killed a man. I don’t feel bad about it. I don’t feel scared right now. I don’t even feel mad at you anymore.”
He knew the look in her eyes. He’d seen it often enough when he was fighting alongside the Rangers. “It’s going to hit you, eventually. But right now your body knows you aren’t safe. It knows you need to keep fighting. It’s flooding your brain with endorphins.”
She put a hand over her face and laughed. “This is not how I thought my week was going to go.”
He put his good hand on her shoulder and squeezed. She didn’t push him away. Probably because she was in shock.
They had to wait a few minutes while boarding stairs were moved into position, but when they climbed up into the jet, Chief Petty Officer Andrews was waiting for them with hot towels. The jet’s main door was closed and suddenly they were in silence, sitting in comfortable chairs, and nobody was trying to kill them.
Chapel had to admit it was a nice change of pace.
“We’re cleared for takeoff right away,” Andrews told them. “Fasten your seat belts until we’re in the air, okay? Our flight time to Denver will be a little under three hours. I’ll dim the cabin lights now, and—”
“Denver? We’re not going to Denver,” Chapel said.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” Andrews told him. “I was informed you were. Was there a last-minute change?”
“There needs to be. We’re going to Chicago.” He needed to check in with Eleanor Pechowski. Make sure she was safe.
And find out everything she knew about chimeras and Camp Putnam.
In his pocket his phone began to ring.
IN TRANSIT: APRIL 13, T+36:54
Chief Petty Officer Andrews smiled warmly and went to talk to the pilot. Julia looked at Chapel expectantly. His phone kept ringing.
Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, so he answered it.
“Sweetie,” Angel said, “I filed your flight plan for Denver—”
“I need to make sure Eleanor Pechowski is safe,” he told her.
“Of course you do. Which is why I’ve been calling her every two hours and sending police around to keep an eye on the place she’s staying. But Franklin Hayes’s people have been calling me, about every fifteen minutes, wanting an update on where you are and how soon you’ll be arriving in Denver.”
Chapel glanced at his watch. “We have at least eleven hours before a chimera could even possibly reach Denver,” he said.
“More like fourteen, because of the time zone difference,” Angel confirmed. “That gives you plenty of time to get to Denver and set up your defense for when the chimera comes for Hayes.”
“Hayes will be fine. He’s surrounded by security. I have no doubt a chimera is going to try to kill him, but even one of them can’t realistically break into a federal courthouse full of cops. As far as I’m concerned, Hayes is the safest name on the list. I’ve finally got some breathing room here, Angel. I finally have time to follow up on some leads, and the last thing I need is to babysit some judge who’s in no real danger.”
“Sweetie—”
“Unless you know something you’re not telling me, Angel, I’ve made my decision.”
She was silent for way too long.