Defender(57)

There was a long pause before Sagittarius responded.

"This entire adventure is in danger of total collapse. You were supposed to ensure that it went ahead - as planned! So, don't you threaten me or I'll shut you down."

"Now hang on, sunshine," Lundt said out loud, glowering at the local faces in the internet cafe who turned to see who the angry foreigner was talking to.

Lundt wasn't going to take the fall, not for anybody.

"It's obviously some time since you pulled a uniform on," he wrote, "or have you forgotten the old soldier's adage: the best laid plans never survive first contact?"

"Don't you lecture me! You need to fix this mess you've made, and fast."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" Lundt knew what had to be done, but it gave him some sadistic pleasure to see how the smug bastard would word it via an insecure network. It was common enough practice to use email or instant messaging for these types of conversations. It meant that suitably innocuous addresses would be chosen at random, used once, twice at most, and then discarded in the same way as pre-paid SIM cards in mobile phones. Fire and forget, Lundt called it.

There was another long pause. Come on, you bastard. Lundt was grinning at his own steely reflection in the computer screen, knowing that the man would now be squirming in his seat back in London. Put your money where your big mouth is.

"I will issue further instructions at our next scheduled communication."





* * *





The exchange concluded, the man at the other end of the conversation, with absolute composure, gently closed the lid of the pink laptop in his daughter's room at the family's city house in Belgravia, and let out a long, slow breath. He stood, absently fiddled with a number of magazines nearby, then walked back out to rejoin his wife and her blasted needlepoint in the drawing room.

"Too many loose ends," he whispered.





CHAPTER 35





Rota, Spain





"Are you sure you're going to be OK?"

"Of course I am," he replied. "You'll have to be gentle with me, that's all."

"Gentle! With you?" With just the hint of a dazzling smile, Arena conjured a playful, yet reproachful, look. 'I'm surprised you even know what the word means, Morgan."

"Maybe we'll find out," he said cryptically, looking out into the distance as their taxi rolled away from the sentry post at the entrance to US Naval Station Rota. "I've sure got a lot of people I need to thank," Morgan said. He returned his gaze to her. "You most of all."

"It's not me you !leed to be thanking," Arena replied. "It's those medics aboard the Kearsarge. If not for them, I think you'd be in a full body cast, getting your meals through a straw for the next month."

Morgan knew she was right. Equipped with emergency operating theatres and an intensive care unit, the facilities on-board were world class. When Morgan eventually came to in the ward, Arena's beautiful face beaming over him, he was convinced that he'd finally expired. While the Kearsarge steamed all the way to Spain, she remained at his side, arranging to stay on the base as he, and a number of other patients, had been transferred for aftercare to the US Naval Hospital at Rota. She was truly an angel. He told her so.

"Shut up," she chided. "You're rambling again. I still can't believe you were able to talk your way out of that hospital. The doctors were adamant that they wanted you under observation for another week, at least."

"Well, let's just say that my boss can be very persuasive," he answered cautiously. "As soon as I got my chance to call him, I had him working overtime to get me the hell out of there so we could have a real chance to ... recuperate."

"He certainly can pull some strings," she said, ignoring the play. "I mean, you know, for a man running a - what do you call it - a private military company?" She watched him carefully, looking for a reaction. She didn't get one.

"Well, he's been involved with governments for a long time. He still knows the right people. So, here we are. I'm out of hospital, you've wrangled time off and we have five days to ourselves."

"Couldn't be better," she said, meaning it.

"So, where are you taking me?" he asked, still in the dark over Arena's plans for their break.

"Just try and put that out of your mind and rest while we head to the airport. I'm in charge now, remember. I'm not telling you anything until we get there. It's all arranged."

Morgan pulled a USS Kearsarge baseball cap that he'd been given by the ship's Captain, down over his eyes and fell easily into a light sleep.

Ari was left to reflect on her own negotiations with her boss, Abraham Johnson, to secure the time away. For the few days that Morgan remained confined to a hospital bed, Arena had been required to maintain constant contact with Johnson as he'd pressed her for every detail of her deployment and, notably, her discussions with Morgan. When she inquired whether or not she should make her real purpose known to Morgan, now that it was all over, she received a very emphatic 'No!' Johnson had been unhappy with her request to take leave at first, but eventually conceded that, in view of the fact that she was there to surreptitiously support the man from INTREPID, it was smart that she remain at Morgan's side as he convalesced.