Orchids to Die For (Jim Morgan Adventure Series) Read Online Free Page B

like she has a job for you. She closed with a, ‘Love You’ instead of her usual ‘Ta Ta’ business. What’s going on with that?”
    “I don’t know, mom. I haven’t spoken to her in months. She called my cell earlier. I didn’t answer. I’ll call her tomorrow, ah – later today,” and he yawned, “Things just weren’t working out with us. She was always, too busy...all work, no play.”
    “Just your opposite, Jimmy. All play and no work?” She topped off her tea.
    “Well, I’m trying to be a writer, mom. It just looks like I don’t do anything.”
    “And, what’s with all that money on your dresser? Did you finally sell a book?”
    “Very funny, mom. I’ll take it to the bank this morning. Did you want some rent, or anything?”
    “No. But I wish you wouldn’t gamble on those horses. Your father’s been calling you ‘Track Man’ lately. Have you talked with him recently?”
    “No. He calls me ‘OSHA Boy’ around the shop. So I’ve been staying away. I know he loves me. It’s just his way.”
    She gathered up her teacup and pot and placed them in the sink. The pow-wow was over. The peace pipe was smoked and the campfire was extinguished. With goodnights in order they went off to bed, she to a snoring machine shop autocrat, and he to his old collegiate room.
    Morgan laid in the dark and reflected his evening. His favorite moment, vividly recalled, was when he kissed Catherine goodnight at her hotel door. And from that memory, he fell into deep, sound sleep.
     
    * * *
     
    “What do you mean he killed your cousin Ahmed? How did he kill him?” Margolova was livid upon hearing that Morgan, and the blonde CIA agent accompanying him, had just killed the tail that she had ordered to be placed on him. “Nyet! No. I do not want you to take revenge. I will personally see them both dead. This, I can promise you, comrade.”
    In Arabic, the N.Y. City, Iranian, submissively asked, “What do you want me to do, Margolova?”
    “I still want him followed. Tell your men to be more careful. Are you all idiots? Get me information on this blonde agent, too. I want to know everything about her before I slit her throat open,” and then ended the International call with a brutal humph.
     
    Captain Fillmore, Chicago Police Department Veteran, and a damn good cop, watched the paramedics remove the Iranian’s charred body from the still smoldering taxi. Although the Coroner hadn’t arrived on the scene, he asked for the kid’s wallet and the young medic retrieved it for him. He moved away from the stench and began going through its contents.
    He asked the medic to replace the wallet and then made a call to the personal cell phone number of a friend and local FBI officer.
     
    Twenty minutes later, the ringing phone on his nightstand wakened Arnold Ames. He was asked to return to work by his Director in Charge. As he dressed to leave he felt the energy of pure excitement pulsating through his veins. He was now a full time player and pivotal kingpin of a major operation. Thirty-five minutes later, he pulled into the CIA compound, ready to work – ready to serve. His watch read 1:00 a.m., straight up, EST. From that moment on, he would begin living under GMT, world time, and he laughed to himself and wondered just what time it really was, in Greenwich Mean Time.
    * * *
    Catherine Harris tried to be quiet when she entered her hotel room. But she needn’t have bothered, as her roommate, Mary Lynn, was quite awake, “I was beginning to worry about you Cathy. We’ve got a busy schedule tomorrow, you know?”
    “I know Mary Lynn. I’ll be quiet, sorry for disturbing you.” Catherine undressed in the bathroom, changed into her jammies, brushed her teeth and went to her bed and, still wearing her fedora, got in; all without turning on a light.
    Five whole minutes passed before Mary Lynn asked, “How was your night, Cath?”
    “Oh, you’re awake?”
    “Yes. I’m keyed up about the conference. Where did you