Termination Orders(19)

Morgan laughed. “I’d like to see him try to do it himself.”

“I’m sure you understand,” said Boyle, ignoring Morgan’s interjection, “we’re not in the habit of sharing the kind of information you want with just anyone. And I’ll be honest. I don’t like the idea of bringing you in on this. It’s unusual and exposes things that are strictly confidential. But I’m going to do something that’s not often done in this business.” He pulled out a pen and laid out a printed form on his desk, which he began filling in. “I am going to trust you. You’re an honorable man, and I know that you have the best interest of this country in mind.” He signed the form and held it out for Morgan. “Are you going to make me regret this, Morgan?”

“My country has always come first,” said Morgan, with heartfelt conviction. “That’s as true today as it was when I first joined up.”

“I’m going out on a limb for you here,” said Boyle.

“And I’m grateful for that,” Morgan said. “You’re doing the right thing.”





Back in the conference room where they had met earlier, Kline sat down across from Morgan for the second time that day, but this time he looked like he was ruminating on something mildly bitter. “Evidently, Director Boyle disagrees with my assessment of this situation. Eric, please brief Cobra on Operation Pashtun Sickle.”

“Did you come up with that one all by yourself?” said Morgan.

Plante began, ignoring him and turning on the screen at the far end of the conference room. “The purpose of this operation was to take out this man.” On the wall-size screen he brought up a picture of a fat, middle-aged, bearded man in fancy-looking traditional Afghan garb, sporting a smug, vicious smile. “Afghan warlord Bacha Marwat. He controls a sizeable portion of the drug trade in the Kandahar region. He produces countless tons of poppy seeds. He has ties to the local government and commands a good deal of corruption. A significant amount of his revenue goes toward maintaining local militia, many of whom are in league with the Taliban and who are giving our soldiers hell over there.”

“Cougar was embedded as an aid worker,” Plante continued. “His primary mission was to get close enough to terminate Marwat. But there were difficulties. Marwat is a well-guarded man. Cougar had an asset, someone in Marwat’s organization who might have been able to get him inside the operation.”

“Who’s this asset?” asked Morgan.

“All we know is his name,” said Plante. “Zalmay Siddiqi.”

“Spell it for me.” Plante did. “And how were you communicating with him?”

“Dead drop,” said Plante. “The mail slot in a house in Kandahar City. We had a communications officer check it twice every day.”

Morgan nodded. It might be inefficient, but when working deep undercover, paper communication was harder for someone to detect or stumble upon. Paper could be destroyed. Electronics always left traces. “Were these messages in your own code?”

Plante nodded. “Except, of course, for the one you have in front of you.”

“Pen,” Morgan said. Plante handed him one from his shirt pocket. Morgan pored over the paper, making illegible annotations.

“Well?” said Kline impatiently.

“The asset’s dead,” said Morgan, leaning back in his chair.

“Dead? Are you certain?” asked Plante nervously. Kline looked at Morgan with suspicious eyes.

“That’s what it says here.”

“That’s an awful lot of text for that to be the whole message,” said Kline dubiously.

“It’s not all,” said Morgan. “The rest says he’s been found out and requests immediate extraction. Although that’s moot at this point, isn’t it?” he said witheringly.

“What else?” insisted Kline. “There has to be more.”

“That’s all there is.”

Kline leaned forward and looked Morgan in the eye. He looked like he was trying his best to appear intimidating. “It had better be. Because if I find out you’re lying to us . . .”

“Are you accusing me of something, Kline? Because I think you’d better come out and say it.”

“I just think it’s strange,” said Kline, with mock perplexity, “that Cougar would encode this in a way that only you could read it. Don’t you think that’s strange, Eric?”

Plante held his uncomfortable silence.

“I can think of a few reasons why,” said Morgan. “But it all boils down to the fact that, for some reason, he didn’t trust you.”