The Gargoyle Trilogy

Chapter 6

Morgan headed down the hall to the office of the Deputy Director of Operations, the Agency’s senior field operative. Before he arrived at the DDO’s office, he saw a woman standing by the door. Frances McCulloch. She had glasses, grey hair, and stood no taller than five feet two. She looked like someone’s grandmother, and she was a legend in the Agency. She cut her teeth in covert operations during the waning days of the Cold War in both Moscow and Berlin Stations. She used her harmless, maternal appearance to run several agents right under the noses of both the Soviet-era KGB and East German Stazi. With the increase in tensions with a newly resurgent Russia, her experiences and resourcefulness led her to the number two spot in the Operations Directorate. All in all, a formidable woman.

“Hello, Gargoyle, or do you prefer Bob?”

“Bob please, ma’am. I save Gargoyle for the field.”

“Very well. Let’s step into my office.”

The pair entered a well-appointed office filled with pictures of her family, including, appropriately enough, grandchildren. She sat at her desk and directed Morgan to a seat in front of it.

“What do you have for me?”

Morgan gave Ms. McCulloch a rundown of his findings. Afterward, she looked at him with a thoughtful expression. She stood up and walked over to a sideboard.

“Coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, please, black, no sugar.”

“Ha! Just like the Admiral. What is it with Navy guys and black coffee?”

“Keeps us going during the midwatch,” Morgan replied. “Nothing keeps you awake better than coffee so strong it’ll turn the inside of your mug jet black within a month.”

“The mug you never wash?”

“Yes, ma’am. Washing removes hard earned flavor.”

Frances let out another laugh as she passed a mug to Morgan. “So that explains the mug on Dennis’s desk. It looks like a science project in there.” She continued, “Do you have any ideas on how you can get inside RDS?”

“Yes, ma’am, two of them actually. First, I pose as a potential customer looking for a large scale, yet discrete, means of moving some cargo. Or two, I go in via either Rasmussen’s or his daughter’s charitable works.”

“Have you thought about both?”

“It would provide two opportunities for access.”

would“Correct, doubles your chances of success. Provide me your plan by close of business, and I’ll send you down to my man in Global Services to plan logistics and discuss equipment.”

“Will do, ma’am.” Morgan said as both he and Frances stood up.

“One more question. General Bailey was most insistent we keep Malcom Stone out of this? Why?”

“Well, Stone and I haven’t seen eye-to-eye since he ruined my marriage and I ruined his Navy career.”

Ms. McCulloch rolled her eyes. “That would do it. See you this afternoon.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Morgan went back to his desk with a plan forming in the back of his mind. After some further research on Mr. Rasmussen and his all too attractive daughter, he finalized his ideas enough to pick up his phone.

“Hey, Clint! I have a plan of action, but I’d like to run it by you for a sanity check…”

Morgan retuned to Ms. McCulloch’s office at 16:00 with Clint Peters in tow. After quick introductions, the pair gave Frances an outline of the plan. She looked at the two men sitting in her office and smiled. She took a quick sip from her water glass.

“What’s your timeline?” she asked.

“Both father and daughter are hosting an invitation-only fund raiser for the Humane Society International in Copenhagen in two weeks,” Morgan said. “A 100,000-dollar donation is required for an invite. A suitably large donation above and beyond the 100 grand should secure me an introduction to the pair.”

“Steep, but doable. I’ll authorize the expenditure along with an expense account necessary for your cover. Anything else?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good. I’ll give my man in Global Services a heads up you will be seeing him first thing in the morning. I think you will like Joe. He’s been with the Agency almost as long as I have, and you both have similar taste in coffee.” Frances winked as Morgan left her office.