Page 132 of Doyle

Now Stein made out the scent of oil on a tarmac. “Are we at Declan’s helipad?”

Doyle nodded.

But—“Where. is.Phoenix?”

“Who?” Doyle shook his head. “What happened to you, anyway? Were you caught in the landslide?”

Landslide?Stein closed his eyes, trying to roll back the film.

He’d been on the side of a mountain, his chest tight, unable to breathe, and then?—

Yeah, she’d stabbed him. He remembered nearly ejecting out of his body. Then the tube went in and?—

And he could breathe. But things got shadowy after that. A bumpy ride on a four-wheeler, he thought. And then voices—he didn’t recognize any of them.

Or, wait.

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you.”

He licked his lips. Felt like... No, just a scant memory. But in his mind, she was bending over him, her green eyes holding his.“Stay alive.”

Yeah, she’d definitely kissed him. Sweet, almost gentle.

He thought he remembered reaching out to her, grabbing only thin air.

A ghost.

He groaned, the pain meds not quite taking the edge off.

Doyle looked up. “They’re here.” And then a woman leaned over him. Dark hair held back with a handkerchief. She wore a T-shirt and had a stethoscope around her neck.

“So, you’re Steinbeck. I’ve heard of you from your cousin Ranger.” She patted his arm. “We’re going to get you home.”

But wait—“I need to talk to Declan.”

Doyle nodded. “Don’t worry, bro. He set this up. I think you’re approved for medical PTO.”

No, that wasn’t—“Where is Declan?” He grabbed Doyle’s arm.

Doyle put his hand over Stein’s, his mouth tight. “Declan is helping out in town. I promise, everything is okay. Everything isgoing to be okay.” He seemed to say that last part to himself and looked past Stein.

As if into the horizon.

And then the gurney was moving toward the chopper.

Stein closed his eyes.No, no,this was not how this was supposed to go down. “She has the program—she’s...” Of course no one was listening. But what if Phoenix was right?Please let her be wrong. Please let him not have been protecting aterroristfor the past few months.

And if she was wrong? She’d be helping America’s enemies devise a way to dismantle their defenses.

Although, the idea of the kind of AI defenses that Phoenix had described... even he wasn’t sure.... Maybe she was right to shut down Declan’s program—what she called Skynet—before it began.

They brought him to the chopper, and then hands lifted him off the gurney, bringing the backboard into the belly.

He was in Krakow all over again, on his way to Landstuhl, his career over.

Not this time.

Doyle sat down in a seat beside him.

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