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For a long moment, General Miller said nothing. Just stared at the desert and the fence with those eyes, those ever-appraising eyes.

Then he said, “Good answer.”

CHAPTER 5

Natalie’s face filled the screen. “Shoot,” she said. “I was really hoping to get you. Umm. Well, there’s someone who wants to say hi.”

Cooper had watched the video message three times already, but even so, his chest hollowed out with joy as the image twisted in a flash of colors that resolved itself into Todd’s grinning face. “Hi, Dad!”

His boy, his beautiful ten-year-old son, not only alive, but awake, in a hospital bed, with a bad haircut from the surgery.

“I’m doing okay,” Todd said. “It doesn’t hurt much. And the doctors say I can run and even play soccer—”

“They said soon, honey—”

“And Mom told me you got him, you got the guy! That’s awesome, Dad.” His son bit his lip. “I’m sorry I got in your way. I know I screwed it up for you.”

No, Todd, buddy, you didn’t screw anything up. You were a ten-year-old trying to protect his father against a monster. The last thing you did was screw up—

“Everybody is really nice, but I miss home. I hope we can go back soon. I love you!”

The screen shifted back to Natalie. His ex looked tired. “Things here are okay. Erik is being good to us. He arranged this call—I guess the lines are . . . Well. We’re safe.” She took a breath, and he saw all of the things she wanted to say but couldn’t. It was partly a matter of privacy; his family was still in the New Canaan Holdfast, and communications would be monitored. But there was more to it than that, he knew. The last time he’d seen her had been just after a killer named Soren Johansen had buried a dagger in his heart and put his son in a coma, the same day Erik Epstein destroyed the White House and killed seventy-five thousand soldiers. America had tumbled over the edge of a precipice that day, and he knew that Natalie was wondering what that meant. For him, and for them, and for their children.

In the end, she settled on, “Be careful, Nick,” and then the video froze on a distorted image of her hand as she turned off the recording.

The call had come in while he chased Abe Couzen through Grand Central. One more reason to backhand the good doctor. It had been two weeks since Cooper had spoken to his family, and though he’d tried every day, he’d never been able to get through. The news blamed the NCH, said that Epstein had severed communication with the rest of America, but Cooper suspected it was the other way around. If the government planned to attack the Holdfast, isolating them would be an important step in the hearts-and-minds campaign.

Just in case, he tried calling them back. “We’re sorry,” the recording announced, “the network is experiencing technical difficulties. Your call cannot be connected at this time. Please try again later.”

Redial.

“We’re sorry, the network—”

Redial.

“We’re sorry—”

Cooper hung up, pocketed the phone, and pictured Abe Couzen dying in a fire. It was a soothing image.

“That your ex?” Ethan asked around a mouthful of gyro.

“Yeah. Natalie.”

“She and Shannon get along?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, ex-wife, current girlfriend.”

Current girlfriend. Cooper pictured the last time he’d seen Shannon, two weeks ago. He’d been about to lose a gunfight, one of John Smith’s soldiers had him cold, and when Cooper heard shots, he’d expected to feel the bullets. Instead, he’d turned to find that Shannon had appeared out of nowhere, a submachine gun braced at her shoulder. She’d flashed him that one-sided grin and said, “Hi.”

Problem is, half an hour later, you were saying good-bye. That was the way it was with them. They were soldiers in a shadow war, both living on the ragged edge of life. In theory that sounded romantic, but in reality it was hell on relationships. She was smart and sexy and incredibly capable, and together they made a formidable team. But they hadn’t actually spent much time together. There was always some reason one of them had to go, some secret mission or desperate struggle. And the way things were going, it was hard to imagine that changing.

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“I bet.”

Wanting to change the subject, he said, “You hear from Amy?”