Under Fire (Elite Force #3)(52)
Author: Catherine Mann

Bernard nodded. “Understood, sir.”

The plan was too deeply in motion to pull back now. Too many under him had already assisted in gathering the information, setting up the shielded leak. They expected their payback. He couldn’t afford for even one of them to doubt his ability to lead.

“When you find Harris, I want him committed to a mental health facility.” He trusted Sylvia to dispense with due process where necessary. “And do so immediately.”

Harris would be discredited until a staged suicide could be arranged.

As for McCabe and his too-curious girlfriend, Rachel Flores? He would need to tread carefully in eradicating them, especially after the recent failed attempts on their lives.

But he had that covered. When he leaked the data about satellite data collection to the Chinese, it would be all too easy to ask for a little something extra in return. No one would question Liam McCabe’s assassination, especially if the public believed he was a mole simply caught up in spy games gone wrong—his girlfriend an unlucky casualty by association.

He looked from Sylvia Cramer to Captain Bernard. “Is that all you have to report?”

Bernard nodded. “For now, sir. And thank you for your support in keeping this quiet. We’re going to make this right. Sir.”

Ted smiled, then looked to Cramer. “And you’ve got people watching the rest of McCabe’s team to see if he contacts them?”

“Of course.” Her hand gravitated to the leather portfolio tucked under her arm. Some might have thought she wanted her iPad. He knew she was craving a smoke. She always did when under stress.

But if she found his need for frequent updates stressful? Tough shit.

“Fair enough, then. Dismissed.” He waved them out of his office.

He knew the underlings whispered behind his back, complaining, calling him a micromanager. They were too small-minded and inexperienced to understand the importance of being detail oriented. He even had an ace in the hole here at Patrick Air Force Base, someone he’d cultivated right away to be answerable first and only to him. A good leader always had troops on his side, loyal to the death. He left nothing to chance.

Details counted. He pulled his laptop closer and the cord hooked on the family photo on his desk. Which reminded him of another loose end to tie up, now that he had important business under control.

Dragging the phone toward him, he dialed his wife’s cell. He could fit in a quick call. “Kelly, it’s me, babe.”

“Ted, thank goodness you called.”

Her breathy panic had him settling back in the chair, ready for her list of idiotic problems. He could listen, hmmm appropriately while checking email.

“Ted, the tuition check for Teddy’s fall semester drained the account. I thought we had enough in there. Credit card overdraft protection caught the overage, so our credit rating wasn’t damaged, but what happened?”

Anger stirring, he creaked forward again in the chair. This went beyond her regular Chicken Little, sky-is-falling complaints. “The account is entirely empty? How did that happen?”

Kelly ran a tight ship. She was the perfect military wife. He’d been careful in choosing her twenty-two years ago. Even then he’d been certain of his future and the type of people he needed to bring along for the ride. She took care of the home front. Didn’t ask any questions. And made few demands of his time.

The family picture he carted from desk to desk, even when he was deployed, gave him the image he needed to project. A beautiful family sitting in front of a fireplace. Perfectly groomed wife, not too flashy, not so plain that people might wonder if he might be lacking. His son and daughter performed as expected, meeting standards in school with grades and sports.

He’d taught them well. They gave him the proper respect—his children had everything he’d craved growing up. A home they could be proud of. An old man to brag about. His kids could hold their heads high.

His family was safe, by God, and he would do everything in his power to make sure they stayed that way. He was in charge.

Like the medals on his chest, he’d won his family, and yes, he trotted them out when he needed the image boost. Small price to ask for all he’d given them. He would need them for just that during the summit starting this weekend. “Kelly, I’ll just transfer funds from my travel account.” He actually had a whole other account she knew nothing about. He’d been tapping it low of late, paying off help to deal with the Harris and Flores problems. “We’ve pulled finances tight this month outfitting everyone appropriately for the summit.”

Money well spent. He needed his family shined up as perfectly as his medals.

“Well, then I’ll take back the new formal I bought for the dinner. I have a couple of other old ones I can pick from. I never should have let you talk me into spending so—”

“Shhh. Babe, don’t even consider it. You deserve something special for all the sacrifices you make. We’ll be dining with dignitaries from around the world. Did you get your mother’s pearls?”

“I did,” she said promptly.

Of course she did. Kelly always came through. He could already envision her in the elegant, conservatively cut navy blue gown. Slim and attractive without being ostentatious or—God forbid—tawdry.

“And thanks, Ted, I really do adore the dress.” Her smile reached through the phone. “I can’t wait to thank you in person when I get there. Love you… bye-bye.”

He gave her the appropriate response, like an obligatory box of Godivas on Valentine’s Day. Easy enough to do.

After all, her thank-you was heartfelt and sweet. Even her little hint about showing her appreciation with reunion sex was perfectly understated.

He liked that about her, how proper and accommodating she was. He never had to worry about her f**king around on him while he was away.

And when he needed something more than missionary position in a marital bed? There were plenty of women out there who were more than happy to sit on a general’s desk and spread their legs.

His hand fell to his crotch and he adjusted his stiffening dick off his zipper. He was so close to achieving his dream of pinning on a second star. Just a few more days and all the sacrifices, all the risks, would pay off.

If only Bernard and Cramer could get their heads out of their asses and locate Harris. The air force would mourn the loss of a brave—but emotionally wounded—lieutenant.

And General Ted Sullivan?

He would be assuming his new command. He would be the one advising the secretary of defense and even the president on intelligence-gathering satellites. He would influence missile defense treaties and the balance of world power.