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

and I think I can trust yours. There are very few people I can talk to about this. The reason I did what I did is that we have a problem in our organization.”

You’re coming to me with a problem? Do I look like an espionage therapist? “What sort of problem?” she asked.

“Someone on the inside of the firm is apparently working for someone on the outside. A person or persons without our best interests at heart.”

Jenny swallowed, looked around, edged a bit closer to Diana, tipped her face down, and looked at her over the top of her sunglasses. “Do you mean, like, a traitor?”

Diana just smiled, mirthlessly.

“Don’t tell me you thought it was Dan.”

“Jenny, a person in my position can never trust anyone fully. We’re not like the civilian court system. In our game, you’re always guilty until proved innocent, and that has to be tested on a regular basis. I’ve been going through this process with everyone, so I used you to help me with Dan.”

“How?” Jenny wondered. “I don’t get it.”

“Your husband adores you.” Diana smiled, reached out, and touched the back of Jenny’s hand. “Frankly, I’m a bit envious.”

Jenny felt the tears well up in her eyes. A stranger telling her this meant more than Dan’s assurances ever could.

“You see, every intelligence professional has an emergency plan.” Diana withdrew her hand and went on. “If he has been turned, as we say in the business, that plan would be some sort of escape route involving his true masters. But because of how Dan feels about you, I knew he’d never leave you behind. So, I used you to discover his last-ditch intentions.”

“His locker, you mean?”

“Yes. And the emergency contact information he left for you. You see, Dan had you reach out to us. If he were dirty— and I’m sorry to use that term—he would have had you contact someone else instead.”

“But, he didn’t know,” Jenny sputtered. “I mean he didn’t know I was doing any of this. You made me do it, or you got me to, anyway, and he wasn’t actually doing anything wrong at all.”

“That’s right.” Diana smiled and placed her sunglasses back on. “When he left you that message, he was anticipating something in the future. And, he was leaving you in the hands of the only other people he trusts. I hope, Jenny, that you view that as a priceless gift. I know I do.”

Jenny wiped the tears from her cheeks. Diana rose up from the bench, picked up her museum bag, and motioned for Jenny to join her. Still feeling shaky, Jenny got up. Diana took the crook of her elbow, and they started strolling in the direction of the park’s exit gate. A flock of pecking seagulls fled from their feet and winged away through Old Ironsides’ masts.

Jenny was overcome with what she’d just heard—frightened and thrilled and ecstatic all at once—but beyond being a loving wife, she was also a dedicated mother.

“What about Alex?” she blurted. “Don’t tell me you’re suspicious of her too.”

“Oh, no worries there.” Diana grinned as she led Jenny out into the big, bad city. “She’s too smart for her age, an Olympic marksman, terribly rebellious, and a royal pain in the ass, just like your husband.” She squeezed Jenny’s elbow. “I adore her.”

Jenny Morgan found her footing, realizing that her relief was not making her weak but was actually making her strong. Although she had been figuratively and literally leaning on the spymaster, she now found they were walking side by side in harmony and balance.

“So, is that it?” Jenny wondered. “Now I just go back to my life, without my husband and daughter, and you go back to yours with them?”

“Not quite,” Diana said with understanding of Jenny’s situation. “No, Mrs. Morgan. If you would be so kind, and brave, there’s just one more thing I’d like to ask you to do...”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Morgan slept from Boise to Denver.

There were no trains running that route, so he’d dumped the Jeep in a long-term lot in Idaho, scribbled a note that said “Sorry about that, charge my card,” and hoofed it over to the Greyhound station. The bus to Colorado was a day-long trip, so he’d passed right out and wallowed in dreamless slumber—the first good rest he’d had in a week.

At Denver International Airport, he gambled on the TSA’s habit of glossing over men with military IDs in favor of frisking old ladies and boarded a Nashville flight, where he picked up the Shelby, and then Neika. She wasn’t too pleased with her stay in the kennel and gave him the furry cold shoulder at first—but one that quickly thawed as they drove all the way back up to Andover.

It was late at night when they walked in the door. At that point he didn’t care whether Zeta was watching the joint or not. He’d found the ordnance, he had the proof, and all was right with the world—except Jenny wasn’t home. The house felt cold and empty, which didn’t improve his mood.

But he left her an adoring note, put Neika to bed, and folded his aching carcass back into the Shelby for one more midnight ride. He figured if Paul Revere could do it, he could too. At least he wasn’t on horseback, and the Cobra had a heater. He chuckled mirthlessly as he drove away. No, Zeta would be looking everywhere but his home for him. He bet they wouldn’t have anybody watching Collins’s place, either.

Sure enough, he saw no one waiting and watching on the block behind the general’s house in Brookline. He was there, alone, clutching a mini-can of pepper spray. The last time, that Doberman had come out of nowhere. This time the beast would get a stinging surprise. He took a breath, lunged like a high school hurdler, and took off across the neighbor’s mushy lawn.

He hit the brick wall at full tilt, slammed his palms to the top, and vaulted over into