“Look, old buddy, I didn’t mean…”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Morgan said.
Felicity barely waited for him to close the door behind Aaron before she spoke.
“Well, that was rude.”
“He insulted me,” Morgan said simply, returning to his seat. “He knows the difference between a mercenary and a murderer. There are people who take money to drop a civilian. I don’t do that stuff.”
Felicity turned her eyes to the floor. In a soft, almost sympathetic voice she said, “You did for Seagrave.”
After a pause Morgan said, “That was a mistake. A mistake I intend to erase.”
“But don’t you intend to…”
“Sure.” Morgan took a big swallow of coffee, staring with single point concentration as if he was looking over a battlefield after the action had ended. “I’ll do it. For honor. For your safety. For my team that got slaughtered in Belize. Not for Aaron. Not for money.” A small smile curled the edges of his mouth. “And since I won’t do it for him, Aaron’s safer if he didn’t hear me say I intend to do it, anyway.”
Felicity felt a need to change the subject, so she returned her attention to the shopping bag that was now between them in front of the sofa.
“So, my man of mystery, what did you get this morning besides Danishes?”
“Well, for one thing, this.” Morgan pulled his jacket aside, revealing a carbon copy of the Browning Hi-power he had left in Seagrave’s office.
“Should I ask what was wrong with the other one?’
“I knew a guy once who was a chef,” Morgan said. “He would only use a certain set of knives from a certain company, and nobody else better touch them.”
“I see,” Felicity said. “Boys with their personal tools. But this can’t be a big bag of guns. Can it?”
When Morgan grinned and shrugged, Felicity reached into the bag herself and pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper.
“Jewelry?” she asked, shaking the package to see if anything rattled.
“Actually, it’s about two ounces of C4. High explosive.”
“Oh.” She gingerly returned it to the bag.
“Hopefully, I won’t need it. But since we’re on the subject, let’s talk a little business. Can you defeat that electronic elevator somehow?”
“With ease,” she said, stealing furtive glimpses into the bag. “I just need to have the right tools with me.”
“Good. Let’s go back tonight.”
“You’re serious.” Felicity said, eyes narrowing.
“Sure. They won’t be expecting us, not this soon. You can go in however you usually would. I’ll go in on your tail. If they’re asleep, I should be able to avoid any guards and sign off Seagrave without any gunplay. If they’re alert, I picked up some unique hand grenades to liven things up.”
He had said it so calmly she had to replay it in her mind. Sign him off? And without gunplay would mean being right up close to Seagrave. This was the man she had allied herself with. “Have you ever thought of going legit?” she asked.
“What?” Morgan face twisted as if her apparent non sequitur had completely disrupted his thought process.
“I figure I know as much about security planning and equipment as anybody. I mean, I know how a thief thinks, you know?”
“What brought all this up?” Morgan asked.
“Well, I was just thinking what great partners we’d make.” Felicity was on a roll now, using her hands to frame her point. “You know all about training men for dangerous work. You know, like bodyguard stuff.”
“Slow down, girl,” Morgan said. “I don’t know if I’m quite ready to settle in one place. I’ll admit I’ve done some personal protection work, and I have considered starting a business like that from time to time.”
“Can we talk about it?”
“After tonight,” Morgan said. “Now get me that blueprint of the target building you had yesterday.”
Morgan shuffled over to sit in the center of the sofa with the blueprint spread out in front of him. Felicity stood by, waiting to hear his plan. She had done this herself a thousand times, and even laid out capers for a group from time to time, but she had never actually worked with someone this way. It felt odd. It felt good.
“Do you know what a field order is?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue.
“A what?”
“It’s the way us military types plan what we’re going to do,” he explained. “I’ll walk you through it. First, you clearly define your mission.”
“Well, that’s easy,” Felicity said, picking up Morgan’s cup and heading for the kitchen. “Find Seagrave’s safe, nick the brooch and our cash if we see it, and, er, you know. Deal with the man himself.”
“Right, eliminate the opposition leadership,” Morgan called behind her while she refilled their coffee cups. “You’re right. That’s it. No side trips.” She bent to place a fresh cup in front of him. He stared into her green eyes, causing Felicity an unaccustomed flash of embarrassment.
“I get the message,” she said. “I really do. No side trips and no ego trips.”
“Right,” he said. “Thanks for that, Red. Anyway, next we outline the situation, concentrating on what we know about the enemy and the building, and what we can guess.” When Felicity lowered herself into a chair he reached into his inside jacket pocket. “I’ve got another pencil here, and a smaller pad.”
Felicity waved his offer away. “Got the memory, remember? Besides, I won’t be sitting still long.”
As if to prove her point, Felicity was on her feet within a minute. As the pair worked through the day, Morgan remained seated on the sofa, hunched over his steno note pad with a mechanical pencil. Again, Felicity was struck by how differently they worked. Morgan was a continuous note taker. He seemed to think best on paper, while Felicity thought best on her feet, walking in free form circles around the oak cube in front of the couch, and wandering around the room, arms crossed, head tilted to one side.
Morgan went on to outline what he called the execution paragraph of his op order, where the “operational concept” was laid out. They agreed on the need to carefully arrange how they would maneuver and coordinate with each other.
Planning was one of Felicity’s strong points, and brainstorming was the fun part of that exercise. She threw out some outrageous ideas, but from her creative mind came daring and workable concepts. Together they examined obstacles they would likely meet and, one by one, planned their elimination.
The sun was casting long shadows across the room by the time they had a plan they were both comfortable with. Morgan sat barefoot with rolled-up sleeves. Smiling, Felicity squatted in front of the oak cube, tapping her hands on it to the beat of the upbeat rhythms from the CD Morgan was playing, featuring someone called Dave Koz.
“Okay, we’ve got a plan,” she said. “In fact, a darned good plan. Simple is always best I say. Anyway, I think we deserve a break. Want to slip downstairs for a little dinner? My treat.”
Morgan leaned back, releasing a long breath. “Yeah, I could eat. But we’re not done. When we get back, I want a briefing on the gear you use.”
“Like what, for instance?”
“Well, remember telling me how you put the dogs out on that job you did in Mexico?” Morgan asked. “I’d kind of like to know what kind of drugs you keep on hand, and how you use them. I’m also curious about what’s in your safe cracking kit. What else might you use in your business?”
Felicity thought for a moment. “Well, anything and everything, from electronic safe breakers to protective masks to insulated gloves to bug and alarm detectors. But what’s the point?”
Morgan sat back up, serious again. “The more I know about the tools you use, the less likely I am to get surprised. The same reason I’ll tell you all about how those grenades work, and show you the basic workings of my pistol.”
“Whoa,” Felicity backed away, both palms toward Morgan. “I’m not planning on shooting anybody.”