"Talk to me."
"Long laceration. Lateral side of the left thigh. Missed the artery wide. She'll walk out of here on her own steam tomorrow."
I nodded. I crossed to the bed and put my hand on the side of her face. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. I told her, low,I'll be back, sweetheart,and the next thing.I love you.
I straightened up.
"Take care of her," I said to my father.
"With my life, son."
A figure came fast down the corridor behind me. Boots. He stopped and held out a hand.
"Elias."
"Tommy."
"Glad to meet you. Wish it was different." He didn't waste time. "We've got a small boat running south on the Intracoastal. Thirty-eight knots, full dark, driver in night optics, second man forward with a long gun. They're trying to get away. Satellite imagery's tracking them now. Drones are on their way."
"I need a helicopter."
"Already spinning. Same Bell as last night. Noah's in the spotter seat."
"Get me on it. Now."
He was already turning.
I followed him out.
The Bell ate altitude the way the Bell ate altitude, and the city dropped under us, and the harbor opened up, and we were over the Intracoastal in under three minutes.
Noah Dane was in the right rear when I climbed in, gear arranged, long gun across his knees with the muzzle pointed at the floor. Same hairline. Same jaw. He was a couple years younger than me and had a sniper's stillness that made the rest of the cabin feel busy.
"Brother."
"Brother."
That was the introduction.
I rigged up.
The chute was a low-volume rectangle, the kind a man wore when he wanted to come in soft and at an angle. The night vision goggles were theverygood kind—the kind Dominion Hall apparently kept on the rack the way other men kept band-aids—and when I dropped them and toggled the channel, the world came on green and clean.
I clipped my coms.
I checked my weapon. Again, the best short-barrel rifle money could buy.
I leaned out the open door and watched the dark water sliding underneath us.
"On your call, Tommy."
I gave him a beat.
I jumped.
The cold came up hard and fast. I oriented. The boat was a small, bright signature in my optics, north of where I needed to be, running its thirty-eight knots straight at the slot of water I was angling for.
I pulled the chute high.
