Honor Bound

For a moment, the room was silent as they each took stock of one another. Then the NSA man cleared his throat and said in a hoarse voice, "I'll let Doyle bring you up to speed on recent domestic developments. You'll find a summary of current information and analyses in the binder." He began to pass prepared folders to each of them from a stack he had carried in with him. "From a national security standpoint, we're concerned about the President's upcoming summit meetings on the global warming agreement with the European council members next month. In addition, he'll be attending the World Trade Organization meeting in Quebec in just a few days. Any act of terrorism, including an attack on Egret, would obviously disrupt those plans."

"We don't have anything to indicate that Lover Boy is a member of any group, national or international, with a political agenda," Doyle said, his voice hard-edged with a hint of Midwestern accent. His tone and expression suggested that he wasn't overly interested in Owens's national security issues.

"Nothing in the psychological profile suggests that he is philosophically or politically motivated," Lindsey Ryan, the behavioral scientist, interjected. "'The message content - poetic verses, sexual ideation, the fixation on knowing where she is and what she's doing - these things indicate a distorted sense of reality. Nevertheless, his ability to make repeated contact with her, and effectively elude capture for a prolonged period of time, indicates an intelligent and highly organized personality. Nevertheless, all of his focus has been her. He's obsessed withher . This isn't about the President."

"We have to assume that anything directed at Egret, even remotely, is related to the President," Owens said testily, his remarks clearly directed at Doyle.

Cam, working hard to contain her temper, listened to the two men engage in verbal debate while ignoring the obvious importance of Ryan's assessment. It was clear to her that Blair was of much less concern to either man than establishing who had the greater stake in seeing the UNSUB captured.

"Exactly where do we stand on the degree of penetration as far as Egret is concerned?" Cam asked, barely managing to keep the wrath out of her voice. She needed to know how close this psychopath had managed to get to Blair this time.

Doyle, looking impatient, raised his voice a notch and continued as if no one else had said anything. "Until the last ten days, all contacts from Lover Boy have occurred via electronic transmission, specifically Internet messages, delivered directly to the subject's personal email accounts. Despite our attempts to trace the point of origin, we have been unable to verify a source. Changing Egret's accounts, rerouting through substations and aliases, and erecting electronic filters has all been ineffective. His messages to date have been," he hesitated a moment as if considering how to phrase his comments, then continued, "mostly of a sexually suggestive nature."

"Is he escalating?" Cam questioned, her breath constricting in her chest. This was why she had been recalled. And if the task force had been ongoing for months, something had changed recently. She tried not to think about the fact that Blair had almost slipped their surveillance yesterday.

Doyle shuffled a few papers, looking annoyed. "He was inactive for a period of time following the shooting last year. Of course every government agency including the Secret Service, FBI, and CIA were involved in the manhunt, and he didn't have much choice but to go under. He surfaced again three months ago."

"Three months," Cam repeated, her eyes boring into Doyle's. "Threemonths and you're just advising her security detail now?"

"I knew," Stuart Carlisle said, unable to completely conceal his discomfort. He wasn't about to explain that his decision to have the task force run out of New York, and by his people, had been overruled by the Security Chief. He was still bitter, but he had orders to follow too.

Cam turned to him, knowing better than to break rank in mixed company and question his judgment or his authority, but there was criticism in her eyes, and she knew Stuart saw it.

"The Secret Service isn't equipped to handle this kind of scenario," Doyle said dismissively.

"We're on scene," Cam retorted, "and we're the ones who know the day to day situation best. A threat like this demands we increase our readiness level." Everything about the way they guarded Blair needed to change.For god's sake, she'd been underprotected for months!

"We've had a presence," Doyle snapped. "We're more than capable of securing her."

"Not the way we can," Cam answered, still unable to believe that Stuart Carlisle had let this happen. But she couldn't back down, not when it was Blair's life at stake. "We need to take the lead in this investigation."

Doyle's color darkened as his lips curled slightly in derision. "You people knew about him in the beginning and your security was so ineffective it almost got Egret killed. I don't think you're up to it."

Cam's voice was cold, her words razor-edged. "By excluding the Secret Service from your intelligence, you put Egret at severe risk. Unacceptable risk.Untenable risk."

"Roberts," Carlisle warned from beside her. She had effectively accused the FBI task force leader of endangering the life of the President's daughter, which at the very least constituted dereliction of duty, and according to strict interpretation, could be considered an indictable offense.

She continued as if her supervisor hadn't said anything. "I want every piece of data, every transmission, every record, every projection and profile that you currently have. I want-"

"You'll get whatever I say -" Doyle began, leaning forward, the muscles in his formidable neck straining.

Cam stood quickly, placing her hands flat on the table, looking down at him. "Every single word, Doyle, or I'll personally file a report citing your negligence and hand carry it to the Oval Office."

Doyle came out of his chair faster than a man his size ought to be able to move. "You threaten me, Roberts, and I'll find the dirt you think you've been able to hide and I'll bury you in it."

Cam smiled faintly, her voice quiet but very clear. "You don't know me very well if you think that will frighten me."

Neither of them heard the door open behind them as they stared at each other, taking measure for the fight that was sure to come.

"From what I hear, you shouldn't even be on this detail," Doyle said derisively. "I'd like to know whose piss-poor excuse for a decision that was."

"I assume that would be mine," a deep male voice said calmly.

Cam straightened and turned toward the voice as the others hastened to stand for the President of the United States.

*

Eleven hours later she was back in NYC, having reviewed as much of the information regarding Lover Boy's recent activities as she could access through channels. She knew there was more, but it would take her a while to get at it. Now that she understood why she had been recalled from Florida, her work really began. But first there was personal business she needed to put to rest.

Cam stopped just inside the door and stared at Blair, who had clearly not been expecting her. She looked like she was dressed to go out, wearing a patterned silk blazer over a thin pale camisole and loose black trousers. Cam wondered fleetingly if she were meeting someone. She pushed that thought away, because she was in no position to change it.

"What is it?" Blair said, a quick surge of fear produced by the stony expression in Cam's eyes. "What's happened?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Cam said, her voice low and deadly. She was struggling so hard to contain her anger she could barely get the words out.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said, stalling, hoping that it wasn't what she thought. But she knew it was, it couldn't be anything else. She had hoped, with Cam out of NYC, away from her detail, she could keep it from her. Keep her out of it. Keep her safe.

"You let me make love to you, you let methat close, and you couldn't tell me that he was back?" Cam seethed, her apprehension for Blair's safety and her fury at being excluded both by Blair and the FBI nearly made her mad. "How in God's name could youdo that? I thought -" she meant to say,I thought I meant more to you than that. I thought we had something.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and gathered her strength. This was not about her. Her relationship with Blair wasn't the issue anymore. She had to separate her personal feelings from what was happening now. The clear and present danger that Lover Boy presented to Blair was what mattered. Not how she felt, not her disappointment, nor her sense of betrayal. She concentrated on her duty, the one thing that always focused her, the one thing she always depended upon to drive the anger away.

She straightened with effort, working to hide her turmoil. She forced her fists to unclench and when she spoke her voice was cool, her command voice. Calm and steady, uninflected, impersonal, infinitely professional. "You should have reported it to Mac when it started again three months ago, Ms. Powell, and you should have told me yesterday. At your earliest convenience, I need to discuss the security protocols. In light of the new information, we have to assume a higher level of alertness. If you could check your schedule now please, I'd like to do this in the morning - as early as possible."

The silence deepened.

While Cam had been talking, Blair watched the flurry of emotions race across her face. She had seen her go from anger and frustration to this implacable facade that she recognized as the barrier Cam placed between her emotions and everything else in order to do her job. In the rational part of her mind, Blair understood that that was what made Cam so good at what she did, but it was not what she wanted betweenthem . She did not want Cam to distance herself in order to care for her. She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, but she was very certain it wasn't that. Her own frustration and fear surfaced, and she said caustically, "That's your solution to everything, isn't it, Cameron? Tighten the security, tighten the restraints around me. That's a simple answer, and easy for you. However, it doesn't work for me."

With effort, Cam said quietly, "This isn't something that's negotiable. This man is serious. He's persistent and clever and talented and he's fixated on you. By all rights, you should be secluded somewhere until he can be apprehended."

At that thought, every survival instinct Blair had emerged on a wave of irrational terror. She would not be made a captive. She had been imprisoned in one way or another her entire life. Nothing mattered more to her than her freedom, nothing except one thing. "I don't want you on this detail, Roberts. I can't work with you. Iwon't work with you. If you won't resign, I'll do what I have to do to get you pulled off."

"I spoke with your father this afternoon," Cam said darkly. "He seems to feel that I'm the best person for this job. So do I. This is one time your influence is not going to have any effect."

Blair stared at her, opened-mouthed in astonishment. When she could find her voice, she said incredulously, "You spoke with my father?"

Cam walked a few feet towards a nearby sofa and leaned against the back, trying to work out some of the tension in her body. She felt wound so tight she was afraid she'd lose control, and at this point, Blair's very future could depend upon what happened between them in the next few minutes. "It was unexpected. He showed up at the briefing about this - situation."

Thinking back, it had been a strange encounter.

The President had acted as if Doyle and Cam hadn't been about to fling themselves over the table at each other, merely motioning to the people gathered with one hand and saying, "Sit, please."

They had done so, and the NSA representative introduced the others and hastened to assure the President that everything possible was being done to protect his daughter. Andrew Powell said nothing, listening quietly and studying each face carefully. After a minute or two he said, "I'm sure that everything is being done appropriately. I'm on a tight schedule and I'd like to speak with Agent Roberts, if your meeting is concluded."

That was clearly a dismissal.

Lindsey Ryan stood immediately and began gathering her things, as did Stewart Carlisle. Doyle and Owens looked like they might object for a moment, and then with slightly disgruntled expressions, filed out of the room. When the door closed, for the first time in her life, Cam stood alone facing the President of the United States. Their eyes met and Cam asked, "What may I do for you, Mr. President?"

A very faint smile flickered across his handsome face. She saw Blair in him as his features briefly softened, and in that instant, her anger turned to hard resolve. She would not allow Blair to become a pawn in some ambitious bureaucrat's political game, nor would she see her become the object of a psychotic's obsession.

"It seems that I need to rely on you again, Agent Roberts, to look after my daughter. I'm sure the task force is doing everything they can, but I know my daughter, and she is not going to make this easy for anyone."

"Sir," Cam began, intending to defend Blair. Given the circumstances, her security team had had the least problems of any working with her.

He raised his hand as if he knew what she were going to say. He looked past her for a moment, as if seeing something she couldn't. "She didn't choose this life - I chose it for her. It's been hard for her. I know that. She's strong and she's stubborn and I wouldn't change anything about her. I'm counting on you to see that both her freedom and her safety continue."

"Yes sir, Mr. President," Cam said very quietly, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll do that, sir. You can depend on it."

He had nodded, thanked her, and left the room. Had she not had her own motives for needing to be involved, his unspoken command would have been enough. But she did have her own reasons. And they were very personal.

Cam looked at Blair and said softly, "I'm sorry, Blair. I'm staying."