“Have a seat,” he said without turning. “I’ll be done soon.”
I crossed the room to a small couch. The red folder sat on a table in front of me. When Hill had finished his prayers, he stretched into a khaki T-shirt and sat across the table. He said nothing for a time, eyes locked on the folder.
“Sir, I wanted to talk to you about the girl who—”
“You’re from New York.”
“I… yes, sir.”
“But not the city.”
“Ithaca.”
“There’s a lake there,” he said. “Did you sail?”
I sat forward on the couch. “Sir, I’d like to—” Hill fixed me with his icy-blue eyes. “No, sir. I didn’t.”
“I sailed with my father,” he said. “He took me out on the water the day his store finally went under. Everyone told him he should just torch the place and collect the insurance money, but Dad said that when he started out in business, he promised himself he’d be honest. A man of his word. He wasn’t going back on that just because it made his life a little easier.”
“Sir, Nat—”
“Sergeant Parker made a report, Cal. The girl will be dealt with in the morning.”
“But if I could have a little more time with her, I could—”
“Your friend admitted to treason and refused to join the Path.”
“But the intelligence—”
“Was worthless,” he snapped. “Anything that girl knows is out of date. It’s over.”
I started to speak again but Hill was done. He reached for the red folder, drawing out the papers inside and regarding each carefully. A cord of tension inside of me evaporated and I fell back against the couch, feeling foolish for my whispered prayers. I imagined Nat in a cell somewhere within the base. Did she already know this was her last night?
“It’s terrifying, isn’t it? The things God requires of us.”
Hill had dealt the papers out across the table so they sat in a snowy line between us. He was regarding them carefully, his chin in his hand. I looked closer and saw the name of a city printed at the top of each paper — Moscow. Berlin. London. Paris. Ottawa. Madrid. Below each name was a map and a list of numbers. A chill went through me as I remembered something Grey had said about a promise Hill made to any country caught interfering.
This was a list of targets.
The cities were the capitals of each country joining the coalition against him. The numbers detailed the quantity of warheads, their yields, and the estimated casualties. The numbers in the last column ran into the hundreds of thousands for each city. There was one more piece of paper sitting in the folder. I reached across the table and drew it out.
At the top of the paper was one word:
“God can’t want this,” I said.
“Why?”
James’s voice fell into my head. “Because he’s not cruel.”
A peaceful smile settled across Hill’s face, but his gaze didn’t falter. “When God does it, it isn’t cruel. It’s what’s meant to be.”
Hill leaned across the table.
“God brought you across the country and set you down in that room, at that time, and gave you the courage to save my life. Why? To ensure that his will was done.”
“Sir, you can’t—”
Hill swept the papers into the folder and crossed the room to his desk. He reached for the uniform hanging by the door.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he pulled on a shirt and laid a tie around his neck. “There’ll be a place for you after this. And for your brother too! Sergeant Rhames mentioned he was here. Kitchen help, I think.” Hill chuckled. “I’m guessing we can find something a little bit better for him than that.”
I watched Hill as he knotted his tie in crisp strokes. I thought of Alec pulling away from me out into the moonlit lake. Maybe he was right. Maybe the future was coming and there was nothing I could do about it. All I had to do was be still and let it come. James and I would be together and safe.
Hill slipped on his jacket and buttoned it. I saw Grey Solomon standing on the side of the road, and Nat, defiant, in the interrogation room, and a prayer started to unspool in my mind. It was a whispered voice growing stronger by the word.
Hill turned as I threw myself across the room, reaching for the sidearm that lay on his desk. My fingers grazed the belt, but Hill came at me in a blur. One fist slammed into my ribs and then his knee found my stomach. The air shot out of me and I hurtled into a shelf, shattering it. I rolled over, groaning, and saw Hill’s belt on the ground. The gun was gone but the combat knife was within reach. I snatched it out of its sheath and slashed at Hill as he reached for me again. The blade bit into his flesh, buying me the second I needed to get up and stumble out to the center of the room.
I staggered backward, swinging the knife in front of me to keep him away, but Hill was too fast. He glided in between swipes of the blade, taking my cast in both hands and slamming it onto a corner of the table. I screamed and then a backhand to my temple sent whatever energy I had pouring out of me. The knife fell out of my hand and I tumbled backward, crashing into his altar.
I tried to get up, tried to keep fighting, but I had nothing left. I lay there, my arm throbbing, one eye swelling shut while the other filled with blood. My consciousness slipped in and out. I thought I heard gunfire and sirens coming from somewhere nearby. Hill stepped through the blur of my vision and fell on top of me, his legs pinning my arms to my sides. He found the knife by my side and held it over me.
“No one can stop what God has put in motion,” he said, barely out of breath.
I closed my eyes as Hill lifted the blade, but there was a crash by the door. Hill turned toward it, and three sharp reports rang out across the room. His body jerked and he collapsed over me. His chest struck mine. His face fell by my cheek. Streams of his blood poured down my sides.
I forced myself out from under him, scrambling until I struck the far wall. I coughed and wiped the blood from my eyes as someone staggered into the room from the open doorway. The knife was lying by Hill’s body. I grabbed it and held it out toward whoever was coming. A gun clattered onto the floor and a body came into focus.
James fell to his knees beside Hill’s feet. He stared at the body in front of him, his arms limp at his sides, his eyes wide. His chest began to heave.
“James?”
I dropped the knife and reached for him as several small explosions shook the walls of the office. There were shouting voices just outside, followed by the back-and-forth chatter of small-arms fire.
“We have to go,” I said, reaching for Hill’s gun, which lay beside James. “James?”
The door to the ops center flew open and three black figures appeared. I scooped up Hill’s weapon and fired half blind. Three shots shredded the door frame and forced them back. I stuffed the gun into my waistband and took James by the shoulders.
“Come on,” I said, but James didn’t move. “Get up!”
I grabbed James’s shirtfront with my one good hand and hauled his limp body up. My muscles screamed and the effort sent me crashing against the wall beside me. There were more gunshots out in the hall and fire alarms began to wail. I wiped the blood out of my eyes and dragged James toward the door.
There were bodies strewn across the ops center, generals and their servants torn apart and still. The computers and the communications gear had all been destroyed and were smoldering, filling the room with a haze of smoke. My eyes stung as we made it through and into the corridor outside. Weapons fire seemed to be coming from all directions. Somewhere there was the boom of a grenade.
I searched through the gloom and saw a door just past the mess. The glass was shattered and I could see
