Larry and Chris leaned across him to look where he pointed. “Orangey and flickering, so it’s torchlight,” Chris said. “Not good. I don’t think they’re holding a parade for us.”
As the train neared the station, silhouettes swept by on both sides of the tracks, and the train whistle blasted over and over. The dark human shapes, backlit by torches, thickened into a wall of heads above bodies, faces flaring out of it in the flickering, uncertain light, like snapshots of angry ghosts.
At the platform, backs covered with Rorschach camo blocked the view through the windows. “Soldiers standing three deep,” Jason said. “And the crowd sounds like bears.”
Their conductor leaned in. “They said to ask you not to sit too close to the windows, and wait for someone to come to you.”
Outside the praying and singing was growing louder, and some objects thudded against the side of the train car. “Is there a next station we could maybe go on to?” Chris asked.
“It’s a spur line,” Larry said. “To get off it we would have to back up. Which can be pretty easily blocked.”
So far, no gunfire had punctured the angry rumble of the mob outside, and what was hitting the train sounded like rocks or bottles, not shots. “I like the singing better than the shouting,” Chris said. “They don’t throw stuff when they sing.”
Cameron Nguyen-Peters came in. “This is going to be a nuisance. We need to make a public display of arresting you all as spies. You will be going to a discreet high-security facility and the man you came to meet will be there. My assistants will bring along your bags separately.”
He paused for a moment as the shouting and screaming outside rose to a crescendo and then quieted. “That’s our cue. General Grayson is speaking to the crowd. He can usually persuade the Post Raptural crowds to behave, at least for short periods of time. He’s defusing the situation for public peace, and he’ll do what it takes to protect you. He knows what your mission is and supposedly he’s down with it—but if he’s going to stab us in the back, it’ll be tonight, so stay alert and trust him only as much as you have to. For this ceremonial arrest, just try to look like the general has overwhelmed you by his sheer force of personality.”
As they waited in the shadow to go onto the platform, while General Grayson prayed at length, Larry muttered, “Who’s the low-rent Madonna clone beside him?”
“His wife,” Cam said. “Ten times smarter and fifty times more dangerous than he is, and don’t forget it.”
The prayer finished with the Post Raptural coda—help us during this Tribulation to make Your chosen nation fully fit for Your return. There was wild cheering, but Grayson held his hands up for silence. “Now we are about to proceed with a difficult moment, my friends, and I am depending on each of you to be calm, reasonable, and fair. These men believe they are carrying out their duties in accord with their oaths, just as sincerely as I believe I am keeping my oath. I, and the other competent authorities, must have the freedom and time to investigate and reach an impartial conclusion that will stand the scrutiny of God and man. To do that, we must have quiet and order. So I’m going to ask you to return to your homes after you see these men taken into custody. Rest assured we are dealing with any danger they may pose to God and country—but we are doing so fairly and dispassionately. Now, will you please all join me in the Pledge of Allegiance?”
It was no mere recital; the crowd seemed to speak in one passionate voice:
“I am going to find a way to crucify that son of a bitch,” Chris whispered.
“Gotta let me help,” Larry whispered back.
“He doesn’t believe it himself,” Cam pointed out.
“I don’t care whether you’re a bear yourself, don’t feed the bears,” Jason said.
When the three men moved forward into the light, the crowd fell into a deep silence. Grayson publicly ordered Cam to take them into custody for questioning. Cam declared he would hold them according to Grayson’s orders, and came forward to take Larry by the elbow.
As they passed out of the light, Grayson was urging the crowd to go home. A few little bunches of them were striking up hymns or chants, but it didn’t seem to be contagious. A long flight of steps led down along the solid brick wall of the power plant, plunging into deeper darkness.
“Why was he willing to do that?” Larry asked quietly.
“Because it means I’ve been publicly seen taking orders from him, now,” Cam explained. “That’s worth a great deal to him. Look, time’s short, here goes. Two blocks from here, I am going to lead you into a dark area behind an old classroom building. I will appear to just be taking a shortcut across a lawn. You will silently turn away from me and follow the row of magnolias to the north; at the edge of campus there’s a dark patch where you can run across to a warehouse. North and west of the warehouse there’s an old bike trail. Follow it about half a mile to a frame house by the east bank of a creek—if you cross a bridge you’ve gone too far. In that house are men I’ve assigned to the job, loyal to me and the United States. Give them the password ‘Four larks and a wren.’
“If by any chance you are arrested that’s the place you will be taken anyway, and the guards will free you as soon as the arresting party leaves and you can give them the password. They will release General Phat to you. He knows the extraction procedure, which is—”
“Stop were you are,” a voice said from the shadows. Cameron walked on and was gone. Chris felt his arms pinned; beside him Larry and Jason struggled. Pistols cocked, and Chris felt the press of the muzzle at the back of his neck, pointed a little upward in the executioner’s angle.
“Prisoners, hold still while we secure you.”
Bags went over their heads instantly, bars slipped between their backs and elbows as neat as knitting, and choke ropes slipped over their necks like a period onto the end of a sentence. Chris recognized Grayson’s voice when he said, “Follow me to the secure facility. They’ll be held there till morning. No noise and forget this the moment we’re back.” Hands turned him around a few times and then guided him into a new direction; he sensed the others beside him. “Prisoners,” Grayson said, “if you pick up your feet and obey your handlers, you won’t get hurt on your way there.”
Chris noticed that nothing had been said about after they were there.
THAT NIGHT. ATHENS, TNG DISTRICT. 12:20 AM EST. TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2025.
Mama had taught Jeffrey Grayson to “get good stuff that’ll last.” He’d had his first pair of good Italian shoes at the age of twelve. His first car had been a mechanic-approved used BMW. Mama’s first personal assistant had still been with her on the day she retired, they had had two cooks—mother and daughter—in all their time in the big old stone house, and the gardener’s grandfather had worked at that house. You knew you could count on quality shoes, cars, and people.
Unfortunately, what he was doing right now required low-quality disposable people, and they were behaving just like it. A squad of first rate MPs at the facility, and maybe a half dozen Rangers with him, and Grayson would have no worries.
These dopey misfits were obviously enjoying the feeling of being Big Tough Bad Guys. Parker, the closest thing Grayson had to a reliable subordinate, had to remind Ethan twice to keep his finger out of the trigger guard; probably it scared the shit out of the prisoners to hear that.