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Authors: Drew Chapman
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stood abruptly. Anger shot up through his body, out to his limbs.He stabbed his hands in the air and paced the room. âIâm here to give you a piece of critical information. I donât even work for your fucking program anymore. And all you think is that Iâm nuts? How often have I been wrong in the past?â
âCalm down.â
âI will not calm down!â he shouted, marching to the window. He stared out at the row of trees separating her apartment building from the next set of suburban condos. A swimming pool lay just below the window, the blue water sparkling in a blast of yellow sunlight. Garrett knew he was behaving erratically, his anger surging, and that Alexis was on the verge of calling the cops. But why did he even give a shit? The whole world could go down in flames for all he cared: Wall Street and DC and investors and the FBI. EveryoneâAlexis includedâcould go to hell. Let the economy craterâit would serve America right. Rome falls, and something else takes its place. Let them all burn in . . .
No.
He had an attraction to the chaos, he knew that. Some part of him was drawn to the maelstrom of destruction, that darkest desire to see it all collapse, to watch the rich and the powerfulâthe very people who always seemed set against himâgo down in flames. But there was also a spark of resistance in his brain, the faintest dim light of refusal. He might be angry and isolated and hunted by his own government, but under it all, he did not want everything around him to fall to pieces. He had some humanity left. He could love life more than he wanted his enemies to suffer. Chaos might call to him, but he still craved order more than anarchy.
Now he just had to convince Alexis.
He walked across her living room. His eyes tracked the photos on the walls, the books lying on the coffee table, notes on the refrigerator, the gym bag in the corner. He blocked out his rage and let the surroundings wash over him, all the hints and clues about Alexisâs life, the telltale signs of where she had come from, and where she was heading. He didnât force the process, he just let it unfold, as it always did when he was at his best. A pulse started at the base of his spine, a tiny dot of understanding that began to grow, and suddenly . . . he knew.
âYou need this. You need it badly.â
âExcuse me?â Alexis asked.
âYouâve been demoted,â he said, not waiting for her to respond. âNo, transferred. Within the agency. Kline too. Youâre both doing something meaningless. Your career is stalled out.â He pointed to the coffee table. âThe half-read books. Fluff fiction. The magazines. TV Guide . The gym bag in the corner. You go every day. The errands list on your fridge is trivial make-work. You have time to kill. Your job doesnât take up all your waking hours. It doesnât even come close to filling them. Thatâs a change.â
Alexis let out a soft laugh, but Garrett ignored it. He was right. He could feel it.
âIf youâre trying to impress me, Garrett, itâs not working. You wouldnât need to come to my apartment to guess those things.â
âNot guesses, observations. And I donât give a shit about your past. Itâs your future that Iâm trying to keep from becoming a disaster.â
Garrett saw Alexis stiffen. He walked to a wall near the hallway to her bedroom and studied a framed photo. A knot of army officers were hoisting beers at a backyard barbecue.
âYou called me from a pay phone, but not from a secure line at the DIA. Theyâre not going to track calls out of the DIA, but you didnât want anyone to overhear you. You were acting without orders from Kline. Youâve grown apart. He doesnât trust you anymore. Ascendant crashed, and he took the fall. He thinks youâre responsible for what happened. Heâs pissed. At me, Iâm sure.
âCalm down.â
âI will not calm down!â he shouted, marching to the window. He stared out at the row of trees separating her apartment building from the next set of suburban condos. A swimming pool lay just below the window, the blue water sparkling in a blast of yellow sunlight. Garrett knew he was behaving erratically, his anger surging, and that Alexis was on the verge of calling the cops. But why did he even give a shit? The whole world could go down in flames for all he cared: Wall Street and DC and investors and the FBI. EveryoneâAlexis includedâcould go to hell. Let the economy craterâit would serve America right. Rome falls, and something else takes its place. Let them all burn in . . .
No.
He had an attraction to the chaos, he knew that. Some part of him was drawn to the maelstrom of destruction, that darkest desire to see it all collapse, to watch the rich and the powerfulâthe very people who always seemed set against himâgo down in flames. But there was also a spark of resistance in his brain, the faintest dim light of refusal. He might be angry and isolated and hunted by his own government, but under it all, he did not want everything around him to fall to pieces. He had some humanity left. He could love life more than he wanted his enemies to suffer. Chaos might call to him, but he still craved order more than anarchy.
Now he just had to convince Alexis.
He walked across her living room. His eyes tracked the photos on the walls, the books lying on the coffee table, notes on the refrigerator, the gym bag in the corner. He blocked out his rage and let the surroundings wash over him, all the hints and clues about Alexisâs life, the telltale signs of where she had come from, and where she was heading. He didnât force the process, he just let it unfold, as it always did when he was at his best. A pulse started at the base of his spine, a tiny dot of understanding that began to grow, and suddenly . . . he knew.
âYou need this. You need it badly.â
âExcuse me?â Alexis asked.
âYouâve been demoted,â he said, not waiting for her to respond. âNo, transferred. Within the agency. Kline too. Youâre both doing something meaningless. Your career is stalled out.â He pointed to the coffee table. âThe half-read books. Fluff fiction. The magazines. TV Guide . The gym bag in the corner. You go every day. The errands list on your fridge is trivial make-work. You have time to kill. Your job doesnât take up all your waking hours. It doesnât even come close to filling them. Thatâs a change.â
Alexis let out a soft laugh, but Garrett ignored it. He was right. He could feel it.
âIf youâre trying to impress me, Garrett, itâs not working. You wouldnât need to come to my apartment to guess those things.â
âNot guesses, observations. And I donât give a shit about your past. Itâs your future that Iâm trying to keep from becoming a disaster.â
Garrett saw Alexis stiffen. He walked to a wall near the hallway to her bedroom and studied a framed photo. A knot of army officers were hoisting beers at a backyard barbecue.
âYou called me from a pay phone, but not from a secure line at the DIA. Theyâre not going to track calls out of the DIA, but you didnât want anyone to overhear you. You were acting without orders from Kline. Youâve grown apart. He doesnât trust you anymore. Ascendant crashed, and he took the fall. He thinks youâre responsible for what happened. Heâs pissed. At me, Iâm sure.
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