Rogue Commander, Leo Maloney [classic books for 11 year olds TXT] 📗

leaned forward. She already knew about the untraceability of the muscle car. “People, this behavior is clearly indicative of something other than Cobra wishing for a bit of respite while he engages in a morning tryst. If you recall, we are in the midst of a critical operation. The bodies of US servicemen and women are arriving at Dover this very afternoon, and I believe we still have an issue of missing ordnance of the most troubling type. Now, none of us apparently knows what Cobra is up to. However, should he interfere with the other strains of your operational activities, there will be hell to pay. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear, ma’am,” Conley answered for the team.

“Good. Now, I, with significant urging”—she nodded at Kirby—“am placing Zeta on full alert.” She swung her steely gaze on the team. “Gentlemen, madam?”

“Yes?” Spartan replied to the latter designation.

“Reel in our snake,” Bloch ordered. “At your earliest convenience.” Her meaning was not lost on any of them. Their only assignment for the foreseeable future was to find, and bring in, Dan Morgan, with all the help of Zeta’s considerable reach.

With a flick of a switchblade-like fingernail, Bloch punched the button that rendered the screen blank. Shepard exhaled a slow hiss of relief from his lungs. Bloch noted that Kirby was barely concealing a satisfied smirk, yet she controlled her steam.

“Paul, make the rounds to all the departments, brief them, and get them up on Alert Status Alpha.”

Kirby frowned. “I can do that from my office on intercom.”

“Do it on foot, as of now.”

He pushed himself up from his chair, made a show of finishing up a cup of cold coffee, and went out. Bloch turned to Shepard.

“Where’s Alex?”

He leaned into a laptop and punched up the operative schedules. “Day off.”

“Cancel it and bring her in.”

“Will do.”

Bloch picked up her leather briefcase and her cell phone and made for the door. Then she turned. “And Shepard, the utility and storage closets are meant for just that. If you and Ms. O’Neal desperately need some private time, ask me, and I’ll send you to lunch. Whether you eat or not is up to you.”

She walked out as Shepard’s blush returned full force. He’d forgotten somehow that the whole place was wired and that Bloch could listen into to any Zeta conversation, or whatever else, anywhere, anytime. But what made him shake his head and feel really idiotic was that he’d designed that whole bug job himself.

Mentally kicking himself, Shepard set about finding, and calling in, Alex. But as he did it, he couldn’t help wondering what was that all about. If he didn’t know better, he’d guess that there was some sort of trouble in paradise.

Although the computer whiz was used to Dan Morgan ignoring protocol to do what he thought best, he had never witnessed such a near confrontation like that in the War Room before. Even so, experience told him it was best not to get involved. Biting his lip, he looked at the door Bloch had just left from.

“Weasel bites you; then you bite me. Just like corporate.”

* * * *

Diana walked into her office, tossed her briefcase on the desk, took off her suit jacket, and slumped in her chair. She rolled her pearls in her fingers and thought about Dan Morgan. He’d gone rogue all right, disobeying orders and trying to clear General Collins despite his instructions to stand down.

Morgan was a top-notch operative, but he was also like some rebellious elementary schoolkid she always had to keep her eye on. Tell him not to play with matches, then leave him alone, and the next thing you know the house is on fire.

She sat back, and slowly, a smile grew on her lips.

Perfect.

Chapter Fifteen

Jenny Morgan drove her crimson Toyota Camry in a fit of frustration, running a few stop signs as she gunned it through Andover.

She didn’t exactly know where she was going, but she had to get out of the damn house and go somewhere. Dan was gone again, leaving her for probably the five hundredth time, tight-lipped and secretive and sharing nothing. It was always like that and had been forever. She was the stay-at-home mom waiting and worrying, and then he’d show up and charm her and ravage her, and she’d forget all about how painful it was until that damn cell of his buzzed and he’d do it all over again.

Honk!

She slammed on the brakes at the middle school intersection. A blue pickup full of rakes and leaf blowers crossed right to left, the baseball-capped driver shaking his fist out the window. She stuck out her tongue and shot him the bird, something she never, ever, did on the streets—too many road-rage crazies out there. He laughed and shot her the finger right back. It felt good, but she rolled forward again, more carefully.

And now it was all so much worse, she reminded herself. Alex, who’d grown up despising her father’s secrecy and emotional distance, had gone right ahead and joined him in his “national security” misadventures. That was the last thing on earth she’d seen coming, and now all her fears about someday losing Dan were doubled.

Oh God, she fumed inwardly as the tears glistened at the corners of her eyes. I could wind up at both of their graves, side-by-side, while some government asshole gives me two folded flags instead of just one!

She tried to focus on driving again and coasted up carefully to a stop light. The Camry went quiet and just idled with barely a whine. She fumed some more. Dan roared around in his hotshot Shelby, Alex rode her stupid motorcycle like some Mad Max movie stunt girl, and she was stuck with the prissy hybrid. Typical.

She took a right and drove south on Main Street, past the majestic old Memorial Library and the rows of quaint and cozy stores—thinking about how all her fellow New Englanders bustled happily along without a clue or a care