“Scores of them, all over the States. Mostly at big air force bases like Nellis or naval facilities like Kings Bay, Georgia.” Then Margolis waved a dismissive finger in the air. “But I’m not buying this boomerang thing.”
“Why not, General?” Diana asked.
“Because Collins can launch those birds from anywhere. He doesn’t have to be on-site. He can set up in a field in Ohio and just target a nuke dump in Nevada.”
“No he can’t,” Morgan said. Everyone in the room turned to Morgan.
Margolis glowered at him. “State your case.”
“If it’s a false-flag op,” said Morgan, “his Koreans have to engage the base security guards, hand to hand, face-to-face. And they’ve got to leave at least one witness alive to finger them later. If they just stand off and fire, no one’ll know who did it. It’s a useless blind hit.”
Margolis leaned back in his chair and stared at Morgan’s unblinking expression. “Morgan,” he said, “you’re a whole lot smarter than you look.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Conley said.
Morgan dipped a thank-you nod at the general, thinking, this teamwork thing might have some merits after all.
Diana pushed away from the table and got up to pace. “Speaking of blind, that’s us,” she said. “We don’t have a clue where he’s going.” She turned to Margolis again. “We’ll have to flash the Pentagon, General, have them alert every facility in the States.”
Margolis turned to his nearest captain. “Wells?”
“Already composing that, Sir,” the captain said as he typed. “Skipping condition Bravo and going right to FPCON Charlie.”
“This is absurd,” Paul Kirby moaned. He took off his glasses, dropped his face in both hands, and massaged his furrowed forehead. “It’s like telling all the national banks that Bonnie and Clyde are out there, somewhere. We’re completely impotent.”
“Speak for yourself, Paul,” Conley sneered.
“People!” Diana snapped. “I’ll thank all you to...” Then she stopped as she noticed Shepard waving his hand in the air.
“Morgan,” Shepard said breathlessly. “I’ve got an intercept here: call coming into your cell.”
Morgan pulled his head back. “You’re ambushing my calls now?”
But Shepard tore off his headset, arched across the table and nodded furiously. “Take it, take it!”
Morgan grabbed the headset and pulled it on. “Morgan here. Speak.” Then his eyes went wide, he covered the boom mike, looked right at Margolis, and whispered, “It’s Schmitt.”
Margolis shot both hands in the air, trigger fingers up, demanding silence. No one moved.
“Commander,” Morgan said into his mike. “Slow down.” He closed his eyes and listened intently for a while before saying, “How the hell did you do that?” He listened some more as he nodded over and over, and a small smile curled his lips. “Roger, copy. Now listen. I know you’re toast, but you’re all we’ve got at the moment. Stay on him, but don’t try to take him.” He covered the mike again and whispered to Shepard, “Lock on her cell.” Shepard shot him a thumbs-up and pointed down at his laptop. He’d already done it. “All right,” Morgan said to Schmitt again. “Hang tight. There’s no way to thank you for this, but we’ll try.”
He tore off the headset. “That woman’s frickin’ Joan of Arc.”
“Spill it,” Margolis snapped.
“I was sure she lost Collins in Brookline,” said Morgan. “But she didn’t. Instead of trying to take him, she tailed him, almost all the way down to Washington on I-95.”
Margolis slapped the table. “He’s going for Kings Bay in Georgia. The nuclear sub pens.”
“Negative.” Morgan replied. “He made a U-turn at a rest stop in Maryland and headed back up north. She doesn’t think he made her. He was just trying to shake any tails.”
“Is she still on him?” Kirby fumbled his glasses back onto his face.
“Yes. She’s just outside New Haven, Connecticut, heading east on I-95.”
Margolis jumped up from his chair, planted himself between his two captains, and slammed their shoulders. “Give it to me, boys. Now!”
His captains hammered on their tablets; then the one to the left looked up. “Groton, Connecticut, Sir. It’s the nuclear sub base, New London.”
“Damn,” Conley said. “Right in our own backyard!”
“General,” Diana said. “Can you task Delta?” Her fingers were laced together in prayer.
“Negative,” Margolis said. “Posse Comitatus.”
“What the hell’s that?” Kirby asked as one of the young analysts at the end of the table whispered to another, “Did he say pussy and tatas?” But no one heard him.
“It’s the law,” Margolis said. “Can’t task the army for domestic ops without Congressional approval. But Delta’s down at Fort Bragg anyway—no time.” He stood up fully and looked at Diana. “We can’t do it. But you can.”
She looked over at Shepard. “Condition Three. Get the Tac teams spun up.” Shepard jumped up, grabbed his laptop, and rushed out. The rest of the analysts froze in their chairs. “All of you,” Diana snapped. “Move!” They hustled out the door after Shepard.
Margolis looked at his watch. “New Haven to Groton. Midnight, no traffic. Maybe an hour and a half, tops.” He turned his gaze on Diana. “Who’s your point man on this?”
She looked over at Morgan, and they locked eyes. “Him.”
“Ms. Bloch,” Margolis said, but he was also looking at Morgan. “You’re the boss here. But if I were in your shoes, I’d make the same call.”
* * * *
Morgan and Diana stood just outside the War Room, side by side, watching Zeta personnel sprinting through the hallways, calling out orders to one another, and shouldering loads of support gear. Morgan thought it looked like a hornet’s nest that had just been stomped by a boot. General Margolis had remained inside the room with his captains, and they could hear his voice booming as he spoke on the phone to an unfortunate naval duty officer somewhere south.
“Well, tell him it’s General Sheldon Margolis and to get me the chief of ONI! You’ve got sixty seconds, Sailor, and then you’ll both be posted as mess men in goddamn Djibouti!”
Diana touched Morgan’s arm, but she didn’t look at him. “I would apologize to you properly, but there isn’t time.”
Morgan
