Chapter 27
Murdoch McAlister had the personal cell phone number of the president of the United States of America, but even he had his limitations. He placed calls to key contacts inside the military, including Major General Robert T. Walker, the commander in chief of the Special Operations Command, but the best he could do was arrange for a hologram communication exchange.
“Are you sure about this?” Colt said as he watched the camera operator run through a test for the HCE.
“Yeah,” Oz said. “I need to talk to him one last time in case . . . well, in case something happens to me.”
“Nothing is going to happen,” Colt said, surprised by the anger that welled inside his chest. He wasn’t mad at Oz for saying it, because it was true. None of them was promised tomorrow, but it was easier when he wasn’t thinking about it.
Oz shrugged. “If you say so.”
“We’re all set.” The camera operator opened the door to the control room and took a seat behind a panel with more levers, buttons, and dials than an air traffic control facility.
“Look, are you sure you don’t want some privacy?” Colt said. He was feeling a bit squeamish—not because Santiago Romero had tried to kill him, but because he felt like a voyeur.
“You’re good,” Oz said. “Besides, I’m not sure I can do this alone.”
That struck Colt as strange. Oz was the perfect human specimen who was willing to go hand-to-hand with one of the Thule, but he was scared to talk to his own dad by himself?
“All right, here we go,” the camera operator said through a microphone.
The air shimmered, and suddenly Santiago Romero was there in the room, fully dimensional save for the fact that he was slightly transparent.
Lobo, as he was often called, was tall like Oz, but he had a bit of a paunch and he wasn’t as muscular. His shoulders were hunched and his dark skin looked almost sallow, but Colt could still see the arrogance in his eyes.
He was in a solitary confinement holding cell at Fort Leavenworth for an act of treason against all of humanity—all because he had been paranoid that the government was going to remove him from his role as director of CHAOS. He had conspired with a Thule assassin to kill the deputy director of the CIA’s National Clandestine Service, a federal judge, the director of the CHAOS Military Academy, and two United States senators.
“Technology is an amazing thing, isn’t it?” Lobo said. “I mean, here I am locked away, and you’re . . . Where are you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Oz said, his eyes fixed on the floor instead of on his father.
“How have you been, son?”
“Don’t do that.” Oz shook his head. “Don’t act like everything is fine between us, because it isn’t.”
Lobo sighed. “I understand that you’re upset, but—”
“You don’t understand anything,” Oz said. “Forget what you put me through . . . that you humiliated me and that they kicked me out of the academy. What about Mom? What about all the people you had murdered? And their families? And for what? A stupid job.”
“I did it for you.”
“You what?” Oz stood there slack-jawed, his eyes brimming with tears. “You’re kidding, right? You did it for yourself.”
“Why are you here, son? To taunt me? Or did someone put you up to this?”
“No one put me up to anything! And I’m not your son. Not anymore.”
“You must be enjoying this,” Lobo said, turning to Colt.
“No, sir.”
“Leave him out of this.”
“I tried to,” Lobo said. “I told them that their plan was insane—that it was treasonous to send children against the Thule—but they wouldn’t listen to reason.” Lobo curled his lip, seemed to grow stronger as he spewed his anger. “And yet I’m the one who is locked up.”
A familiar rage whispered at the back of Colt’s skull, and for a moment he savored the thought of snapping Romero’s neck. But he pushed it away. “I forgive you,” Colt said, his voice barely a whisper.
Lobo stepped back as if struck. “What?”
Colt stood up and walked over to Oz. “Even though you tried to kill me, I forgive you.”
“How touching.”
“I hate what you did,” Oz said as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “I hate that you’re a murderer—that you destroyed so many families and that you actually think you did it for me. But that’s between you and God.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “And even though you don’t deserve it, I came here to tell you that I forgive you too.”