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Page 184
ton, his part would be done. For some reason, the thought was not as cheering as he had expected.
''My social graces are a bit lacking, Anna,'' he said regretfully. "My mother died when I was a very adolescent sixteen, and the Naval Academy didn't help much. The emphasis these days is on officer, more than on gentlemen."
She said, "The warrior ethic. Yes, I know. My colleagues grow very nervous when they encounter it. But as you not-so-gently pointed out, there are times when you need something more than an ombudsman."
Morgan smiled at her, willing to accept the offered cease-fire between them. He caught sight of Ave approaching from the direction of the Peters Aviation hangar. He was not alone. Ave held an unwilling captive in a firm armlock. As Morgan watched, the faces of the two men came into the light, and he recognized with a shock the stumbling figure of Joe Ryerson.
Ave said, "Do you know this scuzball, Morgan? He says he knows you."
Morgan regarded Ryerson with growing anger. The man was a plague. His presence in this place reinforced the fact that there was an enormous leak in the Executive Wing. Only the NSC staff knew about Morgan's longtime connection with Avery Peters. Morgan felt as thought he and Anna were suddenly standing in the Kuwaiti desert, well within the range of enemy guns.
Anna asked, "Who is this man, Morgan?"
"My name is Ryerson and I am a freelance journalist," Ryerson said angrily, trying to break free from Ave Peter's grasp.
Ave said to Morgan, "He was in the hangar, getting in the way of the boys. Asking questions. Isn't that right, Mr. Journalist?"
Morgan stared hard at Ryerson's frightened, angry face. You had to give the man credit; he was impossible to discourage. Only thirty-six hours before, he had been snooping around Morgan's house in Leesburg. Now this.

 
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