Morgan's Mercenaries: Man Of Passion

"Morgan, I'm glad you could make it," Ben Worthington said, standing up from behind his large cherry desk and thrusting his square hand out toward him.

"Ben, it's been awhile since we saw one another," Morgan replied. Grasping the secretary of the Navy's hand firmly, he saw Ben's blue eyes narrow with concern, and wondered once again what had prompted his old friend's sudden invitation.

"Have a seat," Ben invited. "Becky," he called to his assistant, who sat in the outer office, is the coffee on the way?"

Morgan took a seat in the leather wing chair at the corner of Worthington's desk and looked around the spacious Pentagon office. All kinds of Navy memorabilia — paintings, photos, diplomas — were affixed to the walls. Ben had been a Navy pilot on the carrier Enterprise during the Vietnam War. Ben's desk looked just as cluttered and busy as his own, Morgan thought. Through the venetian blinds Morgan could see a patch of blue sky and fluffy white clouds. It was spring in Washington, D.C., and hundreds of cherry trees with white perfumed blossoms surrounded the Capitol and nearby monuments.