"Cloud Two to Angel One," Smitty's voice was a tiny, metallic sound inside the helmet. "Hear you faint but clear. Give your position, over."
"I'm at the Lodge," Morrow replied. Gwyn was watching him, wide-eyed. "The girl is with me. We've got the stuff. I'll have to bring it one at a time to you, over!"
"Angel One, are you observed? Repeat, are you observed? Over."
Morrow scowled in puzzlement. "Nobody here but us chickens," he quipped back. "What're you driving at, over?"
"Do not attempt to bring stuff here," Smitty's voice taunted him. "You might drop something. Remain at your position—we'll come there!"
Morrow's mouth went slack. Of course! He should've thought—
"Cloud Two to Angel One! Acknowledge, please. Over."
"Okay, guys!" he snapped. "Roger, wilco, over and out!" He switched off the set, angrily.
But what was he angry about?
He wasn't sure. Something was wrong, somewhere. Somehow, things just weren't working out right.