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  Highest Praise for Leo J. Maloney and his thrillers

  For Duty and Honor

  “Leo Maloney has a real winner with For Duty and Honor—Gritty and intense, it draws you immediately into the action and doesn’t let go.”

  —Marc Cameron

  Arch Enemy

  “Utterly compelling! This novel will grab you from the beginning and simply not let go. And Dan Morgan is one of the best heroes to come along in ages.”

  —Jeffery Deaver

  Twelve Hours

  “Fine writing and real insider knowledge make this a must.”

  —Lee Child

  Black Skies

  “Smart, savvy, and told with the pace and nuance that only a former spook could bring to the page, Black Skies is a tour de force novel of twenty-first-century espionage and a great geopolitical thriller. Maloney is the new master of the modern spy game, and this is first-rate storytelling.”

  —Mark Sullivan

  “Black Skies is rough, tough, and entertaining. Leo J. Maloney has written a ripping story.”

  —Meg Gardiner

  Silent Assassin

  “Leo Maloney has done it again. Real life often overshadows fiction and Silent Assassin is both: a terrifyingly thrilling story of a man on a clandestine mission to save us all from a madman hell bent on murder, written by a man who knows that world all too well.”

  —Michele McPhee

  “From the bloody, ripped-from-the-headlines opening sequence, Silent Assassin grabs you and doesn’t let go. Silent Assassin has everything a thriller reader wants—nasty villains, twists and turns, and a hero—Cobra—who just plain kicks ass.”

  —Ben Coes

  “Dan Morgan, a former black-ops agent, is called out of retirement and back into a secretive world of politics and deceit to stop a madman.”

  —The Stoneham Independent

  Termination Orders

  “Leo J. Maloney is the new voice to be reckoned with. Termination Orders rings with the authenticity that can only come from an insider. This is one outstanding thriller!”

  —John Gilstrap

  “Taut, tense, and terrifying! You’ll cross your fingers it’s fiction—in this high-powered, action-packed thriller, Leo Maloney proves he clearly knows his stuff.”

  —Hank Phillippi Ryan

  “A new must-read action thriller that features a double-crossing CIA and Congress, vengeful foreign agents, a corporate drug ring, the Taliban, and narco-terrorists… a you-are-there account of torture, assassination, and double-agents, where ‘nothing is as it seems.’”

  —Jon Renaud

  “Leo J. Maloney is a real-life Jason Bourne.”

  —Josh Zwylen, Wicked Local Stoneham

  “A masterly blend of Black Ops intrigue, cleverly interwoven with imaginative sequences of fiction. The reader must guess which accounts are real and which are merely storytelling.”

  —Chris Treece, The Chris Treece Show

  “A deep-ops story presented in an epic style that takes fact mixed with a bit of fiction to create a spy thriller that takes the reader deep into secret spy missions.”

  —Cy Hilterman, Best Sellers World

  “For fans of spy thrillers seeking a bit of realism mixed into their novels, Termination Orders will prove to be an excellent and recommended pick.”

  —Midwest Book Reviews

  Books by Leo J. Maloney

  The Dan Morgan Thriller Series

  TERMINATION ORDERS

  SILENT ASSASSIN

  BLACK SKIES

  TWELVE HOURS*

  ARCH ENEMY

  FOR DUTY AND HONOR*

  ROGUE COMMANDER

  DARK TERRITORY*

  THREAT LEVEL ALPHA

  WAR OF SHADOWS

  DEEP COVER

  *e-novellas

  DEEP COVER

  A Dan Morgan Thriller

  Leo J. Maloney

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Contents

  Highest Praise for Leo J. Maloney and his thrillers

  Books by Leo J. Maloney

  DEEP COVER

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Want More?

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Copyright

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL UNDERGROUND BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Leo J. Maloney

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Underground and Lyrical Underground logo Reg. US Pat. & TM Off

  First Electronic Edition: February 2020

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0336-2 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0336-X (ebook)

  Chapter 1

  As soon as he stepped off the elevator, Dan Morgan knew that something was different in the hallway. His hand found the butt of his Walther PPK as his brain registered what it was: perfume.

  He could smell a few distinctly different brands lingering in the air. That meant the women they had booked had arrived.

  The models were necessary for their cover. American arms dealers operating in their particular corner of the business would have a parade of attractive women coming in and out of their suite.

  Peter Conley had been making those arrangements with local modeling agencies. He had a knack for it, though the task was tougher in Turkey now than it had been in years past. It was a sign of the ways things were going in that country.

  First they came for the swimsuit models, Morgan thought.

  The smile died as it reached his lips when he heard the cries from inside the room. His Walther was in his hand and he was running down the hallway before the sound had fully registered.

  As he got closer, he heard more cries and shouting. Though the sound was muffled by the door, he could definitely hear female voices. Something was going on in the suite.

  Morgan’s key card was in his free hand by the time he reached the door. There was no time for a stealthy entrance. As soon as the light on the lock turned green, he pushed the door open and threw himself inside.

  What he saw stopped him cold. He’d run a dozen scenarios in his head as he’d raced to th
e room and he wasn’t even close.

  This is new, he thought.

  Peter Conley was sitting at the small dining table that had been moved to the center of the living area of the suite. Four very attractive young women in cocktail dresses were sitting around him, laughing loudly.

  There was a small pile of cash in the middle of the table and everyone there was holding playing cards.

  All sound had ceased in the room and five pairs of eyes were now on him. Morgan holstered his gun and said, “Sorry, I heard some noise outside and thought there might be a problem in here.”

  “There is, these women are robbing me blind,” Conley said.

  The girls laughed as Morgan simply looked on, still baffled by what he was seeing. Peter Conley was in a room full of professional models and was playing cards…

  “Sorry ladies, that is all of my money that you will get for today,” Conley said. There were disappointed sighs from the women. “I’m afraid my partner and I have got to get to work. It will be time to go in a few minutes anyway; our clients will be arriving soon.”

  The women got up and headed to the other room to get themselves ready to leave.

  As Morgan and Conley moved the table and chairs back against the wall, Morgan said, “Who are you and what have you done with my partner?”

  “Run of bad luck. And one of those women is a graduate student in math. She was unstoppable. But give me another hour and I could have won it all back.”

  “Right,” Morgan said.

  Morgan hadn’t been referring to the card game and Conley knew it. Something had been different about Conley since he’d met a former Chinese agent named Danhong Guo, or Dani—who was now part of Zeta. They’d had some sort of vacation romance and now there was something complicated going on between them.

  And whatever was going on between them had stopped Conley from calling the three women he knew and occasionally saw in Istanbul. That was not only interesting, it was unprecedented.

  If they’d had more time, Morgan would have ribbed his friend a bit more. But Conley was right, they did have a meeting.

  They neatened the room, making sure that it wasn’t too neat. After all, the penthouse “Sultan” suite, the beautiful women, and the expensive suits they were wearing were all designed to paint a picture—a picture that would attract the right kind of attention.

  They had also spent money like rich idiots for the last two weeks in Istanbul. Their cover had been good enough to get them their first client meeting, which was now minutes away.

  Right on time there was a call from the concierge, telling them that their guests had arrived. He added that the men appeared to be good businessmen. That was a code that meant they didn’t appear dangerous.

  That was as close to security as Morgan and Conley would get on this mission. No guards, no pat downs. The lax atmosphere would fit their cover as dilettante arms dealers.

  The men arrived at the door and Morgan let them in. He recognized them from their photographs and ushered them into the suite.

  The two Kurds wore Western suits. The senior partner was middle-aged and bald with a greying beard. He introduced himself as Barnas. He was with a thin, nervous young man named Hilmi.

  “We spoke on the phone. I’m Dan and this is my partner Peter,” Morgan said as they all exchanged handshakes.

  “Can I offer you a drink?” Conley asked pleasantly.

  Just then, the four women came bursting out of the other room. The two Kurds nearly jumped out of their skin and then looked in shock at the women.

  “Excuse me,” Conley said. “Ladies, thank you for coming. I regret that we have to do some business now.”

  Conley led them to the door and the women made a show of kissing him good-bye. Morgan saw two of them press slips of paper into Conley’s hand.

  That would be their private phone numbers, Morgan thought, shaking his head.

  Whatever was going on with Dani, Conley had not lost his touch. Maintaining a cover was as much stagecraft as it was spycraft, and Peter Conley excelled at both.

  He returned to the men and said, “Where were we? Can I get you a drink?”

  The two men didn’t respond, watching as the last of the women left the room.

  “A drink?” Conley repeated.

  “No thank you,” Barnas said. “We would like to begin.”

  “Business first, that’s fine,” Conley said. “If you can come to the computer we’ll show you—”

  “With all due respect, we’d like to see the actual merchandise,” Hilmi said.

  “We can take you to our warehouse now. Will that be soon enough?” Morgan said.

  “That would be ideal,” Barnas said apologetically. “We have pressing concerns. We are from Diyarbakir, which is close to both Syria and Iraq. The new leadership in Ankara insists on intervening in Syria. We have no doubt this is a pretext for the new President to—”

  “Let me stop you right there,” Conley said. “We’re sure your cause is just but please understand that this is just a business for us. And if you have cash, we can do business.”

  “So you would just as soon sell weapons to our enemies?” Barnas asked.

  “The only thing you need to concern yourself with is that we are willing to sell you the weapons you need to defend yourselves, or fight for your cause, whatever it is,” Morgan said.

  Ten minutes later, the four men were in the hotel limousine. Morgan was not sorry to leave the hotel. It was expensive and depressing. When he had a choice, he always stayed in the Old City, much of which dated back to the Roman Empire.

  Their hotel was in the aptly named New City section, and when you went outside it could have been any modern city in the world. Why anyone would come to this ancient place and stay there was beyond him.

  They headed south for the town of Zeytinburnu, where they had rented a warehouse that was near the waterfront industrial section of the city. They were only a few blocks away from the hotel when Morgan saw that they were being followed. The tail car was a non-descript sedan. Though the vehicle was unmarked, Morgan recognized it as Turkish police issue.

  Like most drivers in Istanbul, the hotel limo driver seemed to think the gas pedal had two options: off and to the floor. What made the driver good at his job was that he was even more aggressive than the drivers around him, who all seemed to view traffic rules as mere suggestions.

  Remarkably, the police car managed to stay on their tail. After a few minutes Morgan turned to his partner.

  “Do you see it?” Morgan asked.

  “Yes, I admire their professionalism.”

  That was the problem with establishing yourselves as high-profile arms dealers. To attract customers you had to attract attention.

  And not all of that attention was commercial.

  Well, that was the job, Morgan thought. Behind them, he could now see that the driver and the passenger of the police car were wearing the distinctive blue uniforms and caps of the Turkish police.

  “What is it?” Barnas asked.

  “The good news is that we are making good time, the bad news is that we’re being followed by the police,” Morgan said evenly.

  “What?” Hilmi said, nearly jumping out of his seat.

  “Don’t worry, I suspect they are primarily interested in us. And since we haven’t done business yet, I don’t think they will pay much attention to you, at least not right away. My partner and I will be getting off in a minute. Stay with the car. I will instruct the driver to take you back to the hotel. Then I recommend you leave Istanbul.”

  As instructed, the driver let them off at the next light.

  They were six blocks from the warehouse and the two agents walked casually on the sidewalk. Morgan could smell the salt water from the strait of Bosporus that separated the two halves of the city—and the two continents of Europe and Asia. Up ah
ead he could see the Roman walls that had protected the Old City for a thousand years, before it fell to the Ottomans in the fifteenth century.

  Morgan regretted that he wouldn’t see the inside of the walls on this trip—not with the police car pacing them. They were getting braver and coming closer, and Morgan wondered if he and Conley would make it to their warehouse before being approached.

  The agents passed an olive oil factory and were in front of the electronics warehouse next door to their building when they heard the unmarked car pull over behind them. Two doors slammed.

  “Pardon, bakar mısınız?” Morgan heard behind them. Though, he knew almost no Turkish he knew that was the equivalent of excuse me in English.

  Morgan and Conley ignored them and kept walking until they were in front of their own building.

  Morgan would rather be inside. They were far too exposed on the street.

  “Dur!” he heard one of the police shout behind them.

  Before they could take another step, Morgan felt a hand grab his arm from behind.

  Apparently they would have to do this outside, he thought as he turned around.

  When they were facing the two stern police officers, he glanced over at Conley. His partner was smiling broadly.

  “Is there a problem officers?” Conley asked, his tone friendly.

  The policeman closest to him fired off a series of instructions in Turkish.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that. Do you speak English?” Conley said, though Morgan had no doubt that his friend had understood every word.

  “I’ll handle this,” Morgan said and then he said one of the few phrases he knew in Turkish. It was a phrase he had made a point of learning in a number of languages. “Hoverkraftımın içi yılan balığı dolu,” he said as pleasantly as he could. Or, in English, my hovercraft is full of eels.

  He heard Conley chuckle as the phrase had the usual affect and the two policemen looked at him dumbfounded.

  Before they could say anything in response, Morgan and Conley sprang into action. Morgan punched the policeman in front of him as hard as he could, square in the nose. Disoriented, the policeman raised his hands to his face. His vision would be compromised and blood was already flowing from his nose.