“I know how you feel,” he told her.
“Come on,” she whispered.
“Every soldier knows how you feel.”
“I’m no soldier,” she moaned.
“No. But listen. When you enlist in the military, you’re just some kid. You grew up, went to high school, maybe you got in some trouble or maybe you just didn’t know what else to do with your life, maybe you wanted to serve your country but frankly, a lot of soldiers I know just were looking for something to do. So they go to boot camp and everything about you is broken down. Everything you think you know about yourself is challenged and tested and evaluated. Then you get shipped overseas right into a war zone. People are trying to kill you all the time. Sometimes you have to try to kill other people. Everything you ever learned in church or in school or from your friends has to be put aside, put on hold, just so you can survive through another day. You give up every shred of who you were, who you thought you were, so you can be something else. Something that can fight, and will fight. Something that will survive no matter what.”
“Jesus,” Julia said. “Why would anyone choose that?”
“It’s hard to explain, but… you’re surrounded by other people just like you. People going through the same thing. They watch your back and keep you alive. You do the same for them because there’s nobody else who can. You get through every day because if you fail, if you lower your guard even for a moment, your friends might die. Friends isn’t even the right word. They’re more than that. There’s no good term at all for what your buddies become. But that’s the compensation. It’s the consolation for all the horror you face. You get these people in your life, these people who mean everything to you, and you know they feel exactly the same way about you. You’d never say it. They would tease the hell out of you if you did. But you love them.”
“You… do?” Julia asked. Maybe because she understood what he was trying to say to her.
“Believe it,” he told her. “Believe it. When you’re a soldier, you’re not alone. You are never alone.”
She pressed her face against his chest, and he just held her, held her close, because he knew that was exactly what she needed.
SUPERIOR, COLORADO: APRIL 15, T+73:21
After she’d rested for a bit, CPO Andrews went out and got some food and other supplies — some antibiotic cream for Chapel’s various wounds, new clothes for both Chapel and Julia, some toiletries for all of them and three disposable cell phones so that they could all stay in touch with Angel. Andrews and Julia both had their own phones, but they were afraid to use them. None of them were sure what was going to happen to them, whether CIA agents were hunting them down even then.
“Laughing Boy could be coming here, right now,” Julia pointed out.
“I’m actually more worried about Hollingshead,” Chapel told her.
CPO Andrews found the idea shocking — that was her boss he was talking about — but she’d worked for the Defense Intelligence Agency long enough to know it wasn’t impossible.
“He sent me to Denver,” Chapel explained, “and I’m sure he knew what was waiting there for me. I pushed him too hard when I investigated Camp Putnam. I wasn’t supposed to see that place. Now I’m a liability. Angel,” he said, because she was always listening via the speakerphone, “I don’t know how you left things with him—”
“I told him you’re dead,” she answered.
“Oh,” Chapel said.
“Judge Hayes had announced as much in his press conference. He claimed he had your body and was going to turn it over to the Denver county coroner. Director Hollingshead sounded pretty upset when I confirmed it.”
“I’ll just bet he did,” Chapel said, frowning. Hollingshead was an excellent spymaster, and that meant he had to be an excellent actor, sometimes.
CPO Andrews shook her head. “I don’t get it. Why would he want you dead? He chose you to track down the chimeras. There’s still one at large. Why would he want you dead now?”
“Because while I was so busy digging up CIA secrets — which suited him just fine, since he’s at war with Director Banks over there — I accidentally turned up one of his.” Chapel sat down on the bed and reached for a plastic container full of roasted chicken. He was starving. Blood loss could do that to you, he knew. “Rupert Hollingshead was in on the chimera project from the beginning. I’m pretty sure he ran the whole thing.”
No one spoke. The two women in the motel room stared at him. He was sure Angel was listening intently, too.
Chapel took a bite, chewed, swallowed. Wiped his hands on a napkin. “In 1990, Ellie Pechowski was recruited to teach the chimeras. She was recruited by a captain in the navy. It’s funny how ranks work — I’m a captain in the army, but that’s not the same rank. In the navy—”
“Captain is O-6, one rank below O-7, a one-star rear admiral,” CPO Andrews said. “You’re talking about my branch, now.”
Chapel nodded. “Captain Hollingshead was the one who recruited Pechowski. When we talked about her, he called her Ellie Pechowski, not Eleanor. Only people who know her call her Ellie.” He took another bite. “I can’t prove it. But I think he probably recruited William Taggart and Helen Bryant as well. I think he was the commanding officer at Camp Putnam. I think the chimera project wasn’t a CIA project at all. I think it was a Department of Defense project all along.”
“That’s — that’s—” CPO Andrews couldn’t seem to accept it.
“It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense,” Angel said. “It explains why Camp Putnam is a DoD facility, and why Hollingshead was the one who captured you when you went there, not Banks.”
Chapel nodded. He didn’t like this much. He wished it weren’t true. But the evidence kept mounting. “I think he’s been lying to me — to us — all along. For one thing, I don’t think there even is a virus.”
“What?” Julia asked, laughing as if the idea was ludicrous.
“Think about it,” Chapel said. “Ellie Pechowski and your parents had constant exposure to the chimeras for years. But nobody ever treated them like Typhoid Mary. They were never quarantined, and until now nobody tried to kill them.”
“No virus,” Julia said, staring at her hands. “But… Laughing Boy…”
“They claim he’s tracking down anyone who might be exposed. That’s a great cover story. It lets him kill anyone who might be a witness — there won’t be any serious oversight if Banks can claim that Laughing Boy is just controlling the outbreak of a weaponized virus. Even the president would sign off on that. But it also means Laughing Boy can kill anyone who even saw a chimera. Hollingshead and the DoD started this thing. Banks is trying to erase it from history. That’s what this has all been about. I understand the kill list now. I know why those people were chosen to die. They’re the only ones who know what happened. The only people who could bear witness to what Hollingshead did.”
“Which means,” Angel pointed out, “that everyone in this room is on that list — and I am, too.”
“They want to kill us,” Julia said.
“Yes,” Chapel told her.
“Okay. How do we stop them?”
SUPERIOR, COLORADO: APRIL 15, T+74:22
Chapel gave her a warm smile. “I have an idea about that. It means getting your father — alive — to someone who’ll listen. Congress, maybe. Or the media if that’s not an option. We make this thing part of the public record. Expose the secret. Tell the world what they did to those two hundred women.”
Julia and CPO Andrews both seemed to like the idea. Chapel wasn’t as crazy about it, himself. It was treason. It was breaking every rule he’d ever learned as a spy. But it was the only way out of this.