Termination Orders(99)

CHAPTER 45


For nearly an hour Morgan and Conley sat handcuffed in a stationary squad car, guarded by two shotgun-wielding cops, while other officers talked among themselves and made phone calls. There seemed to be some confusion about what to do with them. With nothing really to be done, the two sat tight and waited.

Eventually, a conclusion was reached, and about half of the police cars dispersed, while the rest of the force remained to guard them. Finally, a small caravan of black town cars pulled up alongside them, and from the lead car emerged the weasel, Harold Kline, looking smug.

“These boys are ours, Sergeant,” he said, presenting a piece of paper to the officer in charge. “That little document means they’re under our purview. Your discretion in this matter is both appreciated and absolutely mandatory.”

The police sergeant looked at him with an expression that said, “What a jack-off!” But he talked to some of his fellow officers, pointing at the two captives. Morgan and Conley were yanked out of the car and recuffed behind their backs with the CIA’s high-security restraints.

“You fellas going to behave?” said Kline.

“Where are you taking us?” demanded Morgan.

“You’ll find out,” said Kline. Then he addressed the agents. “Load them up. I want them in separate cars, in full shackles. Keep your guns out of their reach, and watch their hands! The last thing you want to do is underestimate them.”

They led Morgan to one of the cars, and once inside they cuffed his ankles. There was an agent on either side of him, and he was instructed not to move. The cuffs dug into his back uncomfortably.

As the car began moving, he wondered where he would end up. They wouldn’t bring formal charges against him, not with everything he knew from his past missions. There was a lot of dirty laundry that nobody wanted aired.

Plus, there was plenty the CIA could do if they wanted to make him disappear, and the fact that he lived mostly off the grid would only make that easier for them. Would they ship him off to a secret prison in the Middle East? Or would he be the victim of an unfortunate “accident“? And, most of all, what would happen to Jenny and Alex now? But as they drove, it became abundantly clear where they were going.

The car came to a stop sometime later at CIA Headquarters. They yanked him out the door. Conley was brought out of his car just a few feet away from him, being escorted, like him, by two men.

The procession walked into the building, and even though it was a Saturday night, the place was still fully manned, with suits walking in and out. Whatever time it was, it was always noon somewhere in the world.

Morgan saw a small group of people standing and facing them and realized that among them was Jeffrey Boyle, looking stiff and official, flanked by several security officers.

“Gentlemen, kindly detain him,” Boyle said calmly. Morgan braced himself for rough treatment. But to his surprise, they surrounded Kline, two of them with weapons drawn.

“What the hell is going on here, Jeffrey?” Kline demanded.

One of the officers handcuffed him and patted him down.

“You are being charged with conspiracy to commit murder, for the attempted assassination of Senator Lana McKay,” said Boyle.

“What? Is this some kind of joke?” asked Kline, perplexed and indignant. “I had nothing to do with that! On what evidence are you arresting me?”

“It’s all here, page after page, the record of your electronic communications with the operative implicated in an assassination attempt,” said Boyle. “All of which point to your direct involvement in the planning and execution of the attempt on Senator McKay’s life.”

Kline’s eyes widened, and the color drained from his face. “I don’t know what those documents are. It’s a frame job! A dirty frame job! Jeffrey, you have to believe me!”

“Spare us,” said Boyle dispassionately. “You’ll have an opportunity to defend yourself in court. Now, take this traitor away.”

They escorted Kline, still protesting his innocence, out of the building. Boyle’s attention turned to Morgan.

“Seems like I owe you an apology. You were right all along: there was a mole in the CIA, working right under our noses. I was a fool not to see it. But it became increasingly clear to me that something didn’t add up, so I had Kline investigated. And you were right.”

Morgan regarded him with undisguised animosity.

“In light of these developments, I consider your hostile actions entirely justified.” He looked at Conley. “The same goes for you, Cougar. You can’t imagine how happy I was to discover you were alive.”

Then, addressing their guards, Boyle said, “Please release them from their handcuffs.” He turned back to Morgan and Conley. “Your names will be cleared. If you wish, Cougar, you will be reinstated as an operative, pending an investigation of the events of the past two weeks. We will also choose to overlook the involvement of a certain Mr. Lowry, who is already inside being debriefed. Fair?”