Termination Orders(4)

Zalmay nodded in assent. “Will we meet again?”

“In the States, if everything goes right. And let’s pray that it will. Good-bye, Zalmay.”

“Good-bye, Cougar. Peace be upon you.”

Zalmay gave the American the keys to the jeep and watched him as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Zalmay watched him as he drove off, feeling more the loss of his friend than of leaving his home. When Cougar disappeared into the city, Zalmay turned his thoughts to the road ahead: a harsh, dry land punctuated with towns and villages and a thousand enemies between him and his destination.





CHAPTER 2


Dan Morgan turned onto the small suburban cul-de-sac, the familiar tightness gripping his knee as he forced himself with gritted teeth to pound the pavement harder. Embrace the pain; love the pain. He pressed on for the last few dozen yards to his house, feeling the cutting chill of the early-March air in his throat as he inhaled.

Neika, who absolutely would not be tired out, had been straining at her leash to chase a squirrel but now set her sights on home. She let out a frustrated half bark, half whimper, muffled and choked off by her collar. Somehow, she still retained the exuberant energy of a puppy, but he knew she could really do some damage when she was threatened.

“Easy, girl,” Morgan chuckled. He broke into a slow trot and then slowed to a smooth stroll as he walked into his front yard. He took a minute outside to catch his breath, letting Neika off her leash. She trotted into the garage to sit at the kitchen door, panting, tongue lolling, and eyeing him impatiently.

Morgan stretched his calves and, feeling another jolt of pain, rubbed his aching knee. “Well, Dan,” he muttered to himself as he opened the door and Neika plowed inside, “I guess you’re officially not a young man anymore.”

As with everything else, Morgan took aging stoically in stride, even now, with forty-one just around the corner. However, those little signs that his body was no longer what it once was always had their own particular sting, especially in the way that they carried a stark reminder of the life he no longer led.

As he walked into the house, he was met by the smell of coffee and frying bacon. His daughter, Alex, was at the stove, cracking eggs on the edge of a skillet. She was as tall as he, and her brown hair had been recently cut shorter, to chin-length. She combined Morgan’s athleticism with Jenny’s slender frame, and even her casual movements were full of grace.

“Well, this is a nice surprise,” he said.

She turned around nonchalantly, looking at him with sharp, intelligent eyes, and gave him a good-natured smile. “Mom’s out running errands, so I thought I’d be a good kid and make breakfast.” Alex turned back to the counter and scooped crispy strips of bacon from the skillet onto a paper towel.

“Are you sure you should be handling bacon?” Morgan asked, gently ribbing. “Isn’t that against the rules?” She had not eaten meat for nearly three months.

Alex laughed. “Whatever rules there are, Dad, I’m the one who makes them.”

“So it wouldn’t actually be cheating if you had some, just this once?” He grinned with feigned hopefulness.

“And look, eggs over easy, just the way you like ’em,” she said, ignoring his comment. She poked the spatula at one of the three sizzling in the pan and then, a bit too abruptly, flipped it over. The yolk began to ooze out from under it. “Ah, crap.”

Morgan walked over to her and reached for the spatula. “Here, let me show you.”

“I think I can handle frying an egg, Dad.” That was his daughter: independent to the bone.

Neika, who had gotten her fill at her water bowl, sauntered over to beg for scraps.

“Nothing for you here, puppy,” Alex said. The coffeemaker sputtered, then beeped as the last of the brew dripped into the pot. She poured out two mugs and scooped two spoonfuls of sugar into one. “Still take yours black, Dad?”

“You got it.”

She handed him a mug and took a sip from hers. “Ooh, sweet, sweet caffeine.”

“So,” he said, “big plans for the weekend?”

“Oh, I might meet up with Tom and Robbie later today, if they’re around. Nothing definite yet.”

While she fussed with the eggs in the skillet, he took a moment to regard her, with her new and yet-unfamiliar chin-length hair. She really was becoming a lovely young woman, charming and vivacious. It was more than that, though: there was something about her that seemed much more composed and self-assured than the moody adolescent she had been even six months ago, when she had turned sixteen. He had always been unconditionally proud of her, but, now more than ever, she seemed to really command it.