The shock of meeting his boss for the first time had nearly killed him.
Before, he had spoken with his contact over the phone, received audiocassettes with instructions, had on occasion even met with him through his hallway mirror—Morgan had assumed Turoc and his associates had bugged it and replaced the glass with some high-tech video display. Not that he ever saw much more of Turoc than the suggestion of a face through heavy mist
Morgan wasn’t even sure what Turoc’s relationship with the others was; associate, consigliere, familiar? The last almost made him laugh. Almost. He was beginning to think anything was possible with this bunch.
Two weeks after his last report on Clover Hill, he’d dropped the bomb about Diana Sinclair and been told to cancel all plans and stay put at the es
