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2 |Leif Morrison’s Office, CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia
CIA Analyst Supervisor Chris Leroux entered his boss’ office. Leif Morrison, the National Clandestine Service Chief for the CIA, sat behind his desk, appearing ragged and worn. He indicated for Leroux to take a seat. He did, then regarded his boss, a frown creasing his face.
“You don’t look too good, sir. Maybe you should take a few more days before coming back.”
Morrison shook his head. “Too much is going on for this section to not have its chief or deputy chief.”
“Sir, you were shot four times. You need to think about yourself first.”
Morrison held up two fingers. “Only two made it through the vest.”
Leroux grunted. “Two were almost enough.”
“Almost, but I guess someone upstairs has more plans for me on this mortal coil.”
Leroux chuckled. “Thank God for that.”
Morrison flashed a grin. “I think I just did. But you’re right. I’m handing this one off to you. I’m too beat.”
“What’s the situation?”
“We’ve lost communications with one of our sea-based testing platforms.”
“How long ago?”
“Last official contact was just before midnight, and due to the nature of their testing, they were expected to be offline for several hours. Nobody got concerned until about three hours ago.”
Leroux leaned to the side, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair. “Why has this been assigned to us? Shouldn’t that be like Coast Guard or Navy?”
“No, this one’s different. This is a testing platform for our latest tech.”
“Oh. Where was she when she was lost?”
“In international waters, about fifteen miles off the coast of Cuba.”
Leroux’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t there a hurricane in that area?”
“There is. A category two. They were just on the edge of it.”
“Shouldn’t they have left the area?”
“The briefing I received indicated their mission guidelines were to evaluate the equipment in harsh conditions, but not put the crew at risk. I read the file on the captain and she’s good with a lot of experience. I can’t see her intentionally risking her crew, so something must have gone wrong.”
Leroux pursed his lips. “What do you want me to do?”
“Have your team start monitoring for any transmissions in the area, any indication that the Cubans have found them. That equipment is state of the art. We can’t risk it falling into Cuban hands because the moment they have it, they’ll be selling it to the Russians or the Chinese.”
Leroux grunted. “Or both.”
“You’re right. Or both. We need to find that boat, and if it has fallen into the wrong hands, get a team in there to get our people out and destroy whatever the Cubans might have found. I’ve sent all the intel we have to your secure directory. This is now your team’s number one priority.”
“Yes, sir.”
Morrison’s face paled and his arm slipped off his chair, sending him slumping to his side. Leroux leaped up and rushed around the desk, providing a steadying hand. “Sir, are you okay?”
Morrison groaned and Leroux jabbed the button on the phone for the Chief’s aide.
It was answered on the first ring. “Yes, sir?”
“We’ve got a medical emergency in here. Get help for the Chief immediately.”
“Calling now, sir.”
The aide hung up as Morrison stirred. Leroux grabbed a bottle of water sitting on the desk then cursed, finding it empty. The door to the office opened and he glanced over his shoulder to see the aide standing there.
“Help is on the way.”
“Get me some water.”
“Yes, sir.”
She reappeared a moment later with a half-full bottle. “Give him mine. I’ll have somebody get more.”
Leroux handed her the empty bottle. “Just go refill this in the bathroom.”
“Yes, sir.”
She disappeared as Leroux pressed the bottle to Morrison’s lips. He took several sips and came around a little.
“Drink some more, sir.”
Morrison didn’t protest, taking several more sips, then gripped the bottle himself and downed the rest of it. Color returned to his cheeks and he straightened himself in his chair. Three quick raps at the door then it burst open, two medics rushing in, followed by the aide. Morrison held up a hand.
“I’m okay now. You’re not needed.”
Both of the medics ignored the patient and instead looked at Leroux.
“He fainted. You’re aware of his recent medical history?”
“Yes, sir. We’ve been briefed.”
“Then ignore him and check him over.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” protested Morrison.
“Sir, you were shot four times.”
Morrison held up a weak hand with two fingers. “Only two made it through.” But there was no grin this time.
“Sir, you’re back too soon. Let them check you over, and if you’re okay, go home. At least work from there or cut back your hours. Do something to give yourself a chance to recover. You’ve got a lot of competent people here. Let them run things until you’re ready.”
Morrison sighed heavily as the medics checked his vitals. His aide handed Leroux the bottle of water and he passed it to Morrison, who drank it eagerly. Leroux passed off the empty bottle to her and she disappeared.
“How is he?”
One of the medics glanced over her shoulder at him. “Looks like he’s suffering from exhaustion and dehydration. After what he’s been through, he needs to keep hydrated.” She turned to Morrison. “How much water have you had to drink today, sir?”
“Nothing. That bottle was from yesterday.”
She frowned. “You have to do much better than that, sir. Keep yourself hydrated and get lots of rest. You spent almost three weeks in bed. It’s going to take time to recover from that. I think you should come to the infirmary with us, just so we can have you properly checked over and have a doctor look at you.”
Morrison batted her hand away. “Nonsense, I feel fine now.” Leroux opened his mouth to protest when Morrison cut him off with a finger. “But you’re right. I have been pushing myself too hard. I’m going to go home. If anyone needs me, they know how to reach me.” He rose, the medics supporting him just in case. He turned to Leroux. “I trust I can count on you for what we discussed?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Then do whatever it takes. I trust your judgment.”
“It may involve boots on the ground.”
“Everybody is expecting that. Delta is already on standby. Pull whoever you need. You have my authorization to do whatever it takes, short of starting a war.”
“If I do what I think may need to be done, we might just come close to that.”
Morrison grunted. “Close is fine. Just don’t take us all the way there.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Now, get out of here so I can preserve some of my dignity.”
Leroux smiled. “Of course, sir.” He left the room as Morrison’s aide rushed back in with a freshly filled bottle of water. Leroux stopped her. “Once you give him that, call his wife. Tell her what’s happened and that he needs to get his rest.”
“Yes, sir.”
Leroux sent a message to Sonya Tong, his second-in-command.
Get us an OC and assemble the team. We have a high-priority case.
His phone vibrated a moment later.
Copy that. There in 20.
“What time is it?” he muttered to himself. He checked his watch and frowned. It was an hour before his team was due to arrive, and he had already been here an hour. His girlfriend, Sherrie White, was off on an op and so was his best friend, Dylan Kane. He had no reason to be home, and after tossing and turning for hours, had given up and come in. He never minded working. He loved his job, though he realized not everyone was as committed and available as he was. He hated bringing in people at unusual hours who had families and loved ones, but lives were at stake, and the Chief was right—there was no way they could let this technology fall into the hands of the Cuban Communist regime.
A regime so desperate for money, it wouldn’t hesitate to sell what it acquired to America’s enemies.
And with the Chief out of commission, it was up to him to stop them.