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

shot a muscled arm out and jabbed an accusing finger toward Morgan’s cuffed-up form. “That dude’s been off the reservation for months. He does more damage than good. We don’t need him.”

“That dude,” Conley growled at Bishop, “has saved your sorry ass more than once. But his doggy took a piece of it, so now you’re all high and mighty.”

“I get it, Cougar,” Bishop snapped back at Conley. “He’s your battle buddy. But this is a team, and we have to work together. He’s a loose cannon, and everyone knows it.”

Diana slapped the control table hard. Shepard flinched as it rang in the room like a gunshot. “Stand down,” she barked. “All of you. The minute this organization becomes a hippy commune, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

They all fell silent and stared at her. And at that very moment, an idea blazed in her mind.

“All of you will remain right here,” she ordered. “I’m going to discuss this with Morgan.”

She picked up her cell phone and marched to the exit door on the left and went out. The door to the clinic yawned open and she appeared on the other side of the glass.

“Lady Diana in the lion’s den,” Bishop muttered.

“Shut up and listen,” Spartan said, and he did.

Inside the clinic, Morgan sat back in his chair and watched Diana approach. She had her head down and was thumb-tapping a message into her cell phone. But she finished that quickly and hiked herself up on the end of the doctor’s table. Facing him and glaring down, her back to the glass, she started in.

“Cobra,” she said. “You are riding very close to the edge.”

“The edge of what?” Morgan looked up. “Retirement? Good. Maybe it’s time.”

Diana edged her cell phone onto her stockinged thigh, positioning the screen so that only Morgan could see it. She tapped the glass with a fingernail.

“You can be a smart-ass with me all you want,” she said. “But the feds won’t be impressed by your charms.”

Morgan glanced down and quickly back up, but he’d seen Diana’s message: PLAY ALONG. WE’RE MOLE HUNTING.

“Go ahead, turn me over,” he sneered. “But before I tell the FBI anything, you’ll have to rescind every nondisclosure document you made me sign. In the meantime, Collins is on the lam, he’s got access and launch codes to some serious fireworks, and nobody knows what he’s got planned next. Yeah, go ahead. Let’s waste time.”

Diana got up, dropped the cell phone into her suit jacket, and folded her arms. Then she paced, slowly, between the table and mirrored fourth wall.

“We received a call from your wife,” she said.

“Yeah? What’d she want?” Morgan followed her pacing form with his eyes. “Did I leave the dishwasher on?”

“She claims to have urgent information.”

“Right,” Morgan scoffed. “Like she’d even know how to make contact.”

Diana stopped pacing and looked fully at him. “You told her how. Does ‘the civil war president’ ring a bell?”

Morgan blinked. He was stunned by the revelation, but he had no other choice than to trust Diana. Play along. We’re mole hunting.

“Bullshit,” he snarled. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“I believe she does,” said Diana. “She claims to know something about this organization, something she feels I must know. She hinted about a bad apple. My guess is she’s referring to you.”

“Jenny knows as much about Zeta as I do about knitting.”

“She knows where your secret storage facility is.”

Morgan blinked again. This shit was getting serious. Play along. Did he have a choice? The mole-hunting part of it meant...Diana was trying to flush someone out.

“Hey, if you’ve got a problem inside, it’s not me,” he said.

“Why did you break into Coldcastle Mountain?”

“I was trying to save Collins’s ass. Turned out he was setting me up to burn mine. And with all your heads up your asses, looks like it worked pretty well.”

Abruptly, a speaker inside the clinic crackled with the sound of Kirby’s voice. “Diana, I couldn’t stop them. They’re here.”

Still facing Morgan, she raised a hand in compliance, but she looked down at him, winked hard, and said, “You will cooperate fully with the FBI.”

Morgan watched her face and remembered something she’d once said to him on the cusp of an iffy mission: “You will never cooperate with any governmental agency, unless Smith himself is standing in the room and telling you to do so.”

“I’ll cooperate with my lawyer,” he said. “The feds’ll get dick from me.”

“As you wish,” Diana said, and she turned toward the mirror and snapped her fingers. “Take him.”

The door to the clinic swung open and the Tac team shouldered their way inside. Diesel and Spartan led the way, their expressions anything but enthusiastic, while Bishop brought up the rear. Diana stepped aside as Spartan walked behind Morgan, gripped the back of his neck, and leaned him forward in his chair. Diesel, taking no chances, was carrying another pair of handcuffs. He wasn’t going to release Morgan’s wrists from the chair before making certain he was still trussed up.

“Sorry about this, brother,” Diesel murmured as he cinched a new pair above the first.

“No problem,” Morgan said. “Screw you all very much. And I mean that deeply, no lube.”

“It’s not personal, Cobra,” Spartan said as she unlocked him from the chair.

“Yeah, I heard that in a mob movie once.”

Bishop looped his ham-hock forearm under Morgan’s armpit and hauled him up. His face was twisted but he wasn’t saying much.

“How’s your arm?” Morgan turned toward him and smirked. “My dog liked the taste, and she’s been asking for more.”

Bishop pulled a stun gun from his belt and showed it to Morgan. “You want some more?”

“Sure, gimme a quirt,” Morgan snarled. “But make sure you’re still holding me so we both get the rush.”

They frog-marched him over to the door. Morgan considered his fighting options. He could do an awful lot of damage with his feet alone, and maybe even get ahold of Spartan’s handcuff key. But then what? and whose side was Conley on? Would he help, or was there