Black Skies Read Free Page A

the woman. “We didn’t hurt anyone. Much. And we’re not taking any of the drugs or the money. Let’s not turn this into a bloodbath, all right? Same goes for everyone else in here.”
    There was a tense silence as Morgan took his first steps out, slow but showing no sign of hesitation. She kept the shotgun on him, and he kept the revolver on her. The room watched as Morgan traversed its length with Conley and the girl in tow. Morgan was by the door when someone cleared his throat.
    “Anyone got something to say?” Morgan demanded, booming voice filling the bar. No one answered.
    “Please carry on then,” said Conley, and they walked out the door and into the chilly street. This seemed to wake up the girl, who struggled against Conley until he carried her and put her in the cramped backseat of the Shelby. Morgan tossed the gun into a water drain and got into the driver’s seat. Conley got in the backseat with the girl.
    “Get away from me,” she spat.
    “Sit tight,” said Conley, and Morgan peeled out. “And buckle up. This guy’s a maniac behind the wheel.”
    She struggled, kicking Morgan’s seat back, and then, apparently realizing there was no good exit, Morgan saw through the rearview mirror, she sat back and cast down her eyes.
    “Can I ask you something?” Morgan said. She showed no sign of having heard him. “What the hell has gotten into your head to get involved with some lowlife in a two-bit drug running operation?”
    “What are you, my dad?” she said, looking out the window.
    “No,” said Morgan. “ Your dad has more money than God.”
    “Like I can just get any whenever I want. He controls me like I’m under house arrest.”
    “And your way to prove him wrong is to carry meth for a worthless gangster of a brother?”
    “Who said anything about proving him wrong?” she said. “I just wanted the money.”
    Morgan drove on the rest of the way to their meeting point, the empty parking garage of a certain downtown office building, where her father was waiting for her with a couple of burly bodyguards. Her old man, an industrialist whose name and face were recognizable to anyone who cracked open a Wall Street Journal , ordered her into his car. He nodded at Morgan and Conley, and took off without a word.
    “You going home?” Morgan asked Conley as they settled back in the car.
    “I’m on the clock all weekend,” said Conley. “Just drop me at headquarters.”
    “You’ll let me know if there’s anything new on Raza, won’t you?” Morgan put the car into gear and rode out of the garage.
    “Believe it,” said Conley. “Are you working today?”
    “Nah, I’ve got a thing I’m doing with the kid,” said Morgan. “I bet you’re glad you never had any, after dealing with this daddy’s little princess, huh?”
    “Sure am,” said Conley, but Morgan wasn’t sure he believed it.

Chapter 3
    May 27
    Islamabad, Pakistan
    “O ur condolences are, of course, with our American allies,” said Pakistani Foreign Minister Salman Mangi. “The brave men of SEAL Team Six did not deserve such a death.”
    US Secretary of State Lee Irwin Wolfe, sitting across from him at a bulky antique hardwood table with thick tapered legs, furrowed his brow in shared concern. From his corner, however, Diplomatic Security Service Agent Philip Lawson thought that he detected the hint of a scowl.
    “I thank you for your sincere distress at our loss,” said Wolfe, bowing his head, showing his balding scalp and hiding his boyish face from the view of Lawson, who was standing up, to his right. “We, for our part, regret the civilian casualties that resulted from the suicide bombing that occurred during the operation.” He was going through the motions of the diplomatic gestures, but Lawson knew they were empty in either case. Regrets had been previously expressed, and this meeting was, as they were with Wolfe, about business. Wolfe’s taut lips and his poise, leaning just slightly too far forward,