Honor Reclaimed

Turning toward the kitchen door, Cam smiled. "Hope you don't mind."

"Mmm, not at all. I like a resourceful woman, especially in the morning." Diane, dressed now in a pale green silk blouse, tan slacks, and low heels, glided across the burnished-steel-and-granite Architectural Digest kitchen to the counter. She reached past Cam for the coffeepot, and in an unusual move, was careful not to touch her.

Despite Diane's casual tone, Cam thought she detected signs of tears beneath her hostess's flawless makeup. "Rough night?"

Diane laughed and shook her head. "Don't you know that's something you should never say to a woman? It suggests either that my age is showing or that I simply look like hell."

"Neither is ever the case," Cam said seriously. "But it has been a hell of a week."

"Oh God, hasn't it?" Diane's hand trembled slightly as she raised the coffee cup to her lips. She sipped and leaned one hip against the counter edge, facing Cam. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not much." Actually, not at all. After she and Valerie had talked, she'd tossed and turned on the sofa for several hours before retreating to the balcony again in defeat. She'd almost napped on the lounge chair, but the litany of things yet to do kept repeating in the back of her mind and prevented her from slipping completely into sleep. Finally, she'd given up and called Lucinda. Now, showered and dressed in black trousers and a dark polo shirt, she'd exchanged her fatigue for the exigency of the day to come. "Blair is coming up this afternoon with her father."

"I know, she told me." Diane narrowed her eyes, regarding Cam pensively. "You don't like that, do you?"

Cam grinned. "What was your first clue?"

Diane laughed. "How do you handle it? Your worry for her?"

At any other time, Diane might not have asked such a personal question, even given her long-standing curiosity. She respected her best friend's privacy, despite how envious she was at times of the obvious passion she witnessed between Blair and Cam. And she knew that Cam was, if anything, even more private than Blair. But in a world where annihilation could be delivered to one's doorstep on a bright sunny morning, there seemed little point to standing on convention. And for those who lived within the shadow of the tragedy, life had taken on an even greater sense of urgency, where caution and prudence had far less meaning.

"I'm paid to worry about her," Cam replied mildly. It was the simple answer, and the truth. Then, because she sensed the caring beneath Diane's question, and because Diane loved Blair, she told the rest of it. "I do my best not to let her know when I'm worried, because she needs to feel that she has a normal life. And when she's doing something like today that just about makes me crazy, I do everything I can to make sure she's safe."

"I imagine if she knew exactly how hard it was for you, she'd try to change."

"She might," Cam agreed. "And that would kill something in her." Cam rinsed her cup in the sink and turned it upside down on the grooves carved into the granite counter for drainage. "So I don't tell her."

"Of course not. And neither will I." Diane deposited her cup with Cam's. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Do you mind sitting out on the balcony?" Cam asked as they started to leave the kitchen.

Diane stopped abruptly on her way into the living room, regarding Cam in surprise. "You don't trust Valerie?"

Cam remained silent as they walked toward the balcony. The living room was empty, and she couldn't hear any noise from the bedrooms down the hall. Diane said nothing until they were outside with the sliding glass door closed behind them.

"I can't think of any way to say this that won't be awkward," Diane said as she settled into one of the chaise lounge chairs. "I happened to be in the living room last evening when you and Valerie were out here, and afterward, we talked."

"And she told you about us." Cam leaned with her back to the railing, the sun behind her and her face in shadow. The interrogation technique was so automatic she didn't even think about it.

Diane shielded her eyes with one hand against the morning sun and nodded. "Some of it." She laughed. "No details, I'm afraid. I can't seem to find a woman who's willing to share you. Even in afterthought."

"Did she also tell you that Blair knows?"

"She did. I'd like to tell Blair that I know. Keeping secrets from friends is the fastest way I know to destroy a friendship."

Cam picked up on the pain in Diane's voice. "Blair didn't tell you because she was protecting me."

"And now you're protecting her." Diane smiled. "She has quite a champion in you."

"No." Cam took two steps and then sat on the end of the lounge chair facing Diane. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. "I just wanted you to know that she did it for me, and not because she didn't want you to know. In fact," she said with a sigh, "I think not being able to tell you has been tough on her."

"Are you sure you don't mind if I speak to her about it?"

"Not at all."

"You didn't answer my question. Don't you trust Valerie?"

"It's not a question of who I trust and who I don't," Cam said. "It's a question of protecting Blair's privacy and maintaining her security."

"You can't think Valerie is a threat," Diane said defensively.

"I don't discuss Blair in front of anyone." Again the truth, even if evasive.

"No. None of us who love her do. I understand." Diane appeared satisfied. "Tell me what you want to know."

"I want to know the name of every person who's asked you about Blair in the last year. I want to know about every new person who's come into your life in that same time period, business or personal. I want to know if there's anyone who stands out in your mind as being off somehow."

Diane laughed. "You're not serious?"

Cam merely nodded.

"My God, I run an art gallery. Sheila Blake is one of my clients, and everyone in the art world, at least, knows that Blake is Blair Powell. People ask me about her all the time with regard to her work."

"Anyone seem more interested than others? Persistent questions, repeat questions, returning to the gallery over and over for no good reason?"

"Not that I can think of, but I can go back through the gallery sales records and see if that jogs my memory."

"Good. Excellent. Ask your employees if they remember anyone inquiring about her schedule or personal information—address, phone, e-mail address." Cam leaned even closer, her dark eyes simmering. "Anything. It won't be obvious. These guys are pros. Tell them that."

"I will. I'll talk to them this morning." Diane frowned. "You said personally. You don't think someone I've been.. .intimate with.. .could possibly be involved?"

"I don't know. Have you met anyone under unusual circumstances, or anyone who seems almost too perfect in terms of the kind of woman who appeals to you?"

There was a moment of absolute silence as they stared at one another, the name hanging in the air between them. As if bidden, the doors behind them opened, and Valerie stepped out. Her ice blue blouse was an exact match for her eyes, which moved questioningly from Diane to Cam. Whatever she saw in their faces made her lift her hands in apology.

"I'm sorry. I'm interrupting, it seems." She brushed her hair back, holding it for a moment against the wind, her eyes on Diane. "I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving. I've called a cab."

"Right now?" Diane rose quickly. "Why?"

"It's a business thing. It came up just a few minutes ago—I just got a call from my employer." Valerie smiled and shrugged. "You know how these things are. When a client gets something into their head, you just can't put them off. I hate to run when you've been so kind."

Cam stood and headed inside to give them privacy. "I have some calls to make too." As she passed Valerie, she said, "Take care of yourself."

"I will. And you, Cameron." Valerie kept her eyes on Diane during the exchange. Once Cam was inside and the door closed once more, she said, "I'm so sorry about all of this."

"I thought we put that to rest last night," Diane said, moving to join Valerie. They stood facing one another, their expressions equally troubled and watchful. "We both have pasts. I won't apologize for mine, and I don't expect you to, either."

"You're very kind."

"To hell with kind," Diane said sharply. "You know damn well I'm attracted to you. More than attracted to you. Why are you leaving?"

"I told you.. .business."

Diane regarded her steadily. "I won't ask you this time what's really going on, because it's obvious you feel you can't tell me. But I will ask you this, and I want an honest answer. Am I going to see you again?"

Valerie hesitated, and then, instead of replying, slid her hand to the back of Diane's neck and guided her forward into a kiss. She kissed her softly at first—just a brush of lips—savoring her tantalizing taste, until suddenly she wanted more. More than just a whispered goodbye. She needed something to take away with her. Without breaking contact, she caressed Diane's mouth more firmly, a long slow slide with the tip of her tongue glancing between Diane's lips.

Diane caught her breath, first in surprise, then at the sudden tightening, in the pit of her stomach. "Oh," she murmured, "don't do that and then leave me."

"I was hoping perhaps you would remember this," Valerie said against all good judgment, "until I return."

"Will you? Return?"

"If I can."

The regret in her voice was too genuine for Diane not to believe her. She settled her arms loosely around Valerie's waist, gratified when the other woman did not move away. "When you come back, will you tell me what it is you think I won't be able to handle?"

"If I can." Valerie couldn't help herself. She kissed her one last time, hoping desperately to satisfy the ache inside with something as simple as a kiss. Something she could explain away, if pressed, as a moment's indiscretion in the midst of a world gone mad. She knew she'd failed hopelessly when she found herself wanting nothing more than to keep on kissing her until there was nothing in her mind or her heart or her soul except Diane.

"Goodbye," Valerie murmured as she drew away. She reached behind her to open the door, her eyes still on Diane's.

Diane let her go. For reasons she did not understand, as she watched her leave, she whispered, "Be careful."

Chapter Eleven

I appreciate you appearing with me at the press briefing this morning," Andrew Powell said as he passed Blair a plate of freshly baked muffins.

"You don't have to thank me, Dad." Absently, Blair broke off a corner of one of the White House chef's specialties. "I feel like there's so little I can do as it is. If it sends a message to whoever's out there that we won't be manipulated by terrorists, I'll go on television with you every single day."

"I have a feeling you'd get tired of that pretty fast, but I'll remember the offer."

"I'm glad there was no mention of what happened to me." She shivered and quickly forced a smile. "I already have my face on the front page of too many tabloids."

"It was a judgment call," Powell admitted. "The press will want to pillory me if it comes out that we held that kind of news back."

"Dad, you don't have to—"

"It was my call, honey. I'm happy with it."

"Why did you decide to keep it quiet?" Blair put down her muffin and watched her father intently.

"A number of reasons. Most importantly, your privacy. You've had the press fixated on your private life for months, and this kind of news would make you morning television news program material." Her father's voice held an edge of anger. "And I don't want whoever's out there—or here—focusing on you as a target."

"Thank you," Blair said softly.

"No need to." The president leaned back in his chair and regarded Blair with a small frown. "It's probably going to be pretty rough this afternoon."

"I know. I'll be okay."

"I never doubted it."

"I'm not coming back with you tonight." Blair pushed her half-eaten breakfast aside. "I want to go home. I can't hide here, and besides, it's already making me crazy."

"I'd like you to wait until my security advisers tell me they think it's safe," Powell suggested mildly.

"You know it's never going to be safe" Blair said with asperity. "If I have Stark and Cam looking out for me, I'll be fine."

"How about if I ask Cam's opinion as to the timing?"

Blair's eyes flashed with temper, and then she laughed. "Jeez, Dad, I can see you're going to need a crash course in the dynamics of lesbian couples. That's kind of like asking the husband if it's okay for the wife to do something."

"Ouch." Powell laughed, coloring slightly. "Okay, I've got that in focus now. So, is it all right if I ask your new security chief and your ex-chief about the situation, just so I feel better?"

"Much better. And you're going to anyhow, with or without my okay, aren't you?"

"You've been around this game too long, I can see." Powell suddenly looked serious. "Yes, I'll want to be briefed on the potential risk to you before you leave here."

"Will you tell me what they say?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll try to follow their recommendations."

"Thank you." He hesitated, then added, "I wouldn't say this to anyone else except Lucy, but we're playing catch-up here, Blair, all of us. The Department of Defense, the CIA, the FBI—all of us were caught flat-footed on Tuesday. It's going to be a scramble for months until we get a system in place to anticipate and counter another event of this kind. I'm worried about you."

Blair reached across the table and took her father's hand. "And I'm worried about you. I've always been worried about you. But that's the life we have, and we have to trust the people whose job it is to take care of us, right?"

"You sound as if things aren't quite as hard for you as they used to be. Is that true?"

She shrugged. "If you mean is it any easier for me to have Secret Service agents trailing around after me twenty-four hours a day, no." She laughed. "Even when one of them is my lover. But I'm happier because I have Cam. She makes everything easier for me."

"Then I'm happy for you." He squeezed her hand and let go. "In case I haven't mentioned it, I like her a lot. It's hard for a parent to imagine their child with an entire life that doesn't involve them. You and I have never had enough time together, and now you're building your own life. I'm glad it's with her."

"I don't think you've ever said anything like that to me before," Blair said thickly.

"I'm sorry that I haven't, because you've always been the most important person in my life."

Blair brushed impatiently at her tears. "Okay. Enough of this." She took a breath and smiled tremulously. "I'll talk to Cam later about me going home or somewhere. If she's totally opposed, then we'll figure something else out. But I'm not staying here much longer. This place is a museum. I don't how you stand it."

"I don't—" Powell stopped as the phone gave the distinctive ring that indicated an urgent call. He grimaced. "Sorry. I have to take that."

"No problem, Dad." Blair rose. "I'll see you later." She expected no answer and got none as her father turned his attention to the newest problem at hand. Still, for perhaps the first time in her life, she felt that her father truly understood what was important to her, and that was enough.

*

Cam left Diane and Valerie on the balcony and returned to the kitchen, where she sat at the round, glass-topped table in front of the windows with her second cup of coffee. She dialed the residence and ran down her mental to-do list while answering the White House operator's usual questions. A minute later she was put through to her lover. Blair answered immediately.

"Hello?"

"Hey, good morning."

"Mmm, it is now."

"Yeah." Cam smiled. "How was your night?"

"Long. And lonely. How was yours?"

"Same." Cam leaned back in the chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. She was stiff and sore and tired, but listening to Blair's voice eased some of the tension that had knotted the muscles along her spine into a taut ladder of pain. "Have you been up long?"

"A few hours. I had breakfast with my father—well, part of one, at least, before he was called away."

"Everything okay?"

Blair sighed. "Okay is relative, isn't it? Apparently there was some kind of scare in a government complex in New Jersey. I'm not sure what it was all about, but I heard that he had to meet with someone from the NIH right away."

Cam frowned. She didn't like being outside the intelligence loop, even for a few hours. Ordinarily, something like this would have been brought to her attention immediately as Blair's security chief. She made another mental note to call Stark and inquire about significant developments that came up at the morning briefing. "How are you ?"

"I want to see you. I want to be where you are." Blair made a small sound of disgust. "God, I sound pathetic. But I've made my obligatory media appearances with my father—we've shown the world we're not afraid, and they'll believe it when they see us in Manhattan this afternoon if they're not convinced yet. I've done my part, which hardly seems enough."

"You're doing everything you can, baby."

"Thanks for saying that." Blair hesitated. "Do you feel like I do when we're apart? Like nothing is quite right?"

"Every minute."

Blair laughed. "Even if you're lying, I don't care. I love you for saying it."

"I'm not lying," Cam said with utter seriousness.

"Did you sleep?"

"Some."

"I know you, Commander. That means probably not at all. You can't run yourself into the ground, Cam, or you won't be any good to your investigation or me."

"I know. I won't."

"Uh-huh. Right." Blair made a low murmuring sound in her throat. "But I know how to put you to sleep. We'll take care of that later."

Despite her fatigue, her worry,and her hyperadrenalized awareness, Cam felt herself respond. "Jesus, don't do that now. I have to work."

"What's the matter, did I just make you twitch?"

Absently, Cam brushed her palm over the inside of her thigh. "More than that."

"Oh, good."

Cam laughed and closed her eyes, allowing herself the simple pleasure of enjoying the company of the woman she loved for just a few minutes.

*

Savard bolted awake, bathed in sweat. She rapidly scanned the space around her as if it were a battlefield, searching for danger, until she placed the room— bedroom, Stark's...no, our place now.

With a jerk, she threw the damp sheet aside and stumbled into the bathroom, then directly into the shower. She twisted both knobs on full and barely flinched when the first blast of icy water struck her in the chest. Her skin tingled, and it felt good. She was alive. She was alive.

Five minutes later, wrapped in a towel, her hair still dripping, she sat on the side of the bed and dialed Stark's cell phone.

"Stark."

"Hi, sweetie. Are you busy?"

Stark had to forcibly hold back a surge of wild laughter. Oh hell, no. Not busy. She suddenly was responsible for guarding the first daughter in the midst of a national crisis, with a team of newbies and a reluctant protectee. Hell no, she wasn't busy. "I've got a couple minutes. We just briefed."

"How was it?"

Stark lowered her voice. "My legs aren't shaking anymore."

"You're going to be fine. You were a good agent before the commander came on board, and now you've spent almost a year watching her work. You know what to do. Just do it your own way, and you'll be fine."

"Thanks, honey. What about you? How are you doing?"

"Fine," Savard said quickly. "Is it still a green light for today?"

"Yes. This afternoon."

"Any chance we'll be able to get together later?"

"I don't know. I want to. It's going to depend on...well, you know."

Yes, Savard thought. From now on, my lover's life is going to be determined by Blair Powell's schedule. It's going to be even harder now for us to connect. Maybe it's just as well. Maybe I shouldn't see her until I don 't feel so...crazy.

Stark picked up on the silence. "I'm sorry. I want to see you so mu--"

"Hey. It's okay." Savard glanced at the clock by the bedside. "God, it's almost nine. I'm late. Listen, sweetie, I've got to run. Call me if you can."

"I will. I love you," Stark said hastily.

"Me too. Bye."

Savard pulled the towel off and wrapped it around her hair as she hurried to the closet. She was surprised someone hadn't already called her to find out why she hadn't shown up for her shift. As she pulled clothes from a hanger, her cell rang.

"Damn," she muttered as she grabbed it off the bedside table. "Savard."

"This is Roberts. Where are you?"

"Stark's."

"Good. I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."

"Uh.. .what about my other assignment? Should I call—"

"Already taken care of."

"Yes, ma'am," Savard said briskly. "I'll be waiting downstairs."

"Very good. Goodbye."

"Yes, ma'am," Savard whispered. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to get herself together enough so that no one would notice she wasn't who she used to be.

*

It was the smell that plummeted Cam back in time—that unmistakable mixture of antiseptic and death that permeated the air in the hallway leading to the intensive care unit. Six months before it had been her lying in one of the glassed-in cubicles, tubes and monitors attached to her body, swimming in an ocean of pain. She had only fragments of recollection of the first three days following the shooting—her mother's voice, Blair's touch, and always the fucking pain. Suppressing a shudder, she shoved her hands into her pockets and shook off the memories. Despite what she insisted to Blair—that the chance of her ever being shot again was infinitesimal—it was always a possibility. And that was something you didn't think about if you wanted to do the job.

"Davis told me they're supposed to move him out of here today," Cam said to Savard as they pushed through the double gray steel doors with the red letters proclaiming Trauma Intensive Care Unit.

"Good. That's good," Savard said quietly.

Two minutes later, after clearing their visit with the nurses, they approached Mac's bedside. To Cam's great relief, he no longer had a breathing tube and was able to croak a hello. Her former second in command, Mac Phillips, was ordinarily a vigorous thirty-three-year-old—tall, blond, and handsome. Now he looked pale and vulnerable, and Cam felt the fury rise again.

"How are you doing, Mac?"

He smiled weakly. "Not bad, Commander."

Cam nodded at the statuesque African American woman with the model-perfect face standing on the opposite side of the bed. "Agent Davis."

"Commander," Felicia replied in her smooth alto voice. "Hello, Renee."

"Hi." Savard leaned over and kissed Mac lightly on the cheek. "Hello, honey."

"My day.. .is looking.. .up," Mac said, grinning.

"We heard they're moving you to a regular room later today. That's terrific," Cam said as she stepped over and closed the door. They were all completely visible to anyone in the rest of the intensive care unit, but their conversation would not be overheard. Turning to face Mac and Felicia again, she said, "The whole team—with the exception of Stark—has been placed on administrative leave until Justice completes the investigation of Tuesday's events."

"God," Felicia said, "that could take months."

"Probably will. But you've been detailed to a special team," Cam informed her. "As of now, you and Savard are with me, and our only job is to find out where those bastards who hit the Aerie came from."

"What about.. .me?" Mac said immediately.

Cam squeezed his shoulder. "Your assignment is to get better. Once you're out of this place, I'll pick your brain to make sure we're not missing anything, but no field work for you."

"The bullet...missed the good stuff," Mac said. "I'll be good...to go...in a week or so."

"That's not exactly what the doctor said, baby," Felicia interjected. "Six to eight weeks is what I heard."

"We'll keep you in the loop," Cam assured him, "but you're an armchair quarterback on this one."

"Yes, ma'am," he said weakly, his eyes flickering closed as he obviously tired.

"So, Davis," Cam said, "we need a new command center. I should have an address for you later today. You can transfer the equipment then."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The first order of business is an ID on the four men who hit the Aerie. You and Savard are on that."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Savard will coordinate when I'm not available."

Savard jerked slightly at the announcement, but Felicia appeared unfazed. "Understood."

Cam looked at her watch. "For now, get copies of everything the FBI has that relates to the attack—forensics, intelligence, background on paramilitary groups and terrorist cells, gossip, rumor, innuendo—I don't care. Everything."

Felicia glanced at Savard. "Can you get me into the computers?"

Savard nodded. "Yes."

"Then you'll have it within twenty-four hours, Commander."

"Good," Cam said briskly. "You've got eighteen. We brief tomorrow at 0700. Now I've got to meet Marine One."

Chapter Twelve

C am made the thirty-mile trip from Manhattan to White Plains in just under an hour. She pulled into the parking lot of a small private airfield and walked toward a line of four gleaming black Suburbans that were idling on the far side of a chain-link fence. She hadn't gotten twenty feet from her rental car before the passenger doors of each vehicle opened and three men and a woman jumped out and hurried through the gate on an intercept path with hers. Anticipating this, Cam held out the badge case she carried in her right hand.

"Secret Service. Roberts."

"Stay where you are, please," the lead man, a stocky African American in a well-cut dark blue suit, called out.

Dutifully, Cam stopped. These field agents had probably been pulled for emergency duty from regional offices all over the country. It was doubtful that anyone in the service didn't know that an Agent Roberts was the first daughter's lover, but they didn't know her, not by sight.

"Hold the badge in two fingers and put your arms out at your sides, please," a tight-bodied blond woman ordered brusquely. Her eyes never moved from Cam's body as she plucked the badge from Cam's loose grip, handed it to the first agent, and flipped open Cam's jacket. "She's carrying. Service-issue weapon."

"You might contact Paula Stark. She'll verify that I'm expected." Cam kept her arms straight out while the female agent removed her automatic from the shoulder holster below her left breast. She didn't move a muscle as every inch of her body was patted down, quickly and efficiently.

"This is a restricted area," the male agent said, studying her credentials. "How did you get in here?"

"The same way you did," Cam replied mildly. "I showed my badge to the officers at the checkpoint you set up at the main entrance. They let me pass." She could tell by the expression on his face that he wasn't happy. Despite the fact that she had a Secret Service ID, someone should have called the ground team for clearance. It would take time before the various state and federal agencies were able to coordinate the new level of security required, which was one of the major reasons she didn't want to be too far away from Blair. No matter how good the first team might be, there were too many other links in the chain that might weaken and break, leaving Blair at risk.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath, then handed Cam her ID. "Stay here."

"You can lower your arms," the blond said, her expression impassive behind impenetrable sunglasses.

Cam did, slowly, and glanced up at the sky as she heard the distant sound of rotors. Ten seconds later, the lead agent jogged back through the gate.

"Give her back her weapon, Calhoun. Sorry, Commander."

"No problem," Cam said as she holstered her automatic and accepted her ID. "I would've been a lot more upset if you hadn't braced me."

"Let's go," he said, already heading back to the airstrip on the other side of the fence. "They'll be on the ground in a minute."

Cam fell in behind the ground team, her eyes on the sky as the VH-3D presidential helicopter descended. With the rotors still churning, a stairway unfolded from the side of the Sea King and four fully armed Marines from the elite HMX-1 squadron based at Quantico clambered down to flank the exit route from the chopper. The Secret Service ground team stationed themselves in a similar fashion, creating a continuous corridor that led to the waiting vehicles. Cam stayed by the side of the third Suburban in line. Andrew Powell and Blair stepped out together and descended the stairs briskly. Stark flanked Blair, and Turner had a similar position on the president's opposite side. There were two men and a woman behind Stark whom Cam recognized as senior Secret Service agents. These would be the new members of Blair's first team. As the president and the first daughter approached the vehicles, the local Secret Service agents split into two groups and fell in behind the first teams. Blair walked directly up to Cam and kissed her.

"Hi," Blair said.

"Hi." Cam threaded her arm around Blair's waist and turned with her toward the Suburban, where Stark stood holding open the rear door. "Chief," she said with a nod toward Stark.

"Good to see you, Commander."

Cam and Blair slid into the spacious rear compartment with Stark and the female agent taking the seats across from them. One man joined the driver and the other took the keys to Cam's rental from her to drive it back to the city. While Stark murmured into her microphone, ensuring everyone was in position, Cam extended her arm on the seat and Blair settled naturally against her side.

"How are you doing?" Cam asked quietly.

Blair smiled. "Good now."

As they pulled out of the airport, Stark said, "Commander, this is Agent Patrice Hara. That's Greg Wozinski up front and Leonard Krebs in your car."

"Ma'am," the woman next to Stark said.

"Agent," Cam said, shaking the outstretched hand while making a rapid assessment. Five-four and compact, forty years old, jet black hair that fell straight to her shoulders, dark almond-shaped eyes testifying to her Japanese heritage, wedding ring on her left hand. Hara accepted the scrutiny with no sign of discomfort. Satisfied, Cam turned back to Blair. "Trip go okay?"

"Fine." Blair laughed. "Every time I see that thing settling down on the South Lawn, I think there's no way I'm getting into it. But it beats Beltway traffic all to hell."

Laughing, Cam dropped a light kiss on Blair's temple. Across from them, Stark and Hara stared out their respective windows. "Diane says hello."

"I know. I called her on the way up here."

"Oh?"

"I thought I'd stay there tonight." Blair leaned back far enough to look into Cam's face. "I take it I'm not going to be able to stay at my place yet?"

"No." Cam didn't think this was the time or place to tell her that in all likelihood she would never stay there again. When they caught the perpetrators, there would still be no way of knowing how much information had been disseminated about the physical layout of the command center and Aerie. Even with that variable aside, the security there had been fatally compromised. There was no going back. "I thought I saw a suitcase being loaded into the back."

Blair smiled. "Aren't you going to tell me all the reasons why I have to go back to the White House?"

Cam rubbed her thumb over Blair's chin, then lightly caressed her mouth. "No. Because you already know. Let's talk about where we're going to stay a little later, though." Suddenly, she realized that it wasn't going to be her decision any longer. Stark would have to approve. That was going to take some getting used to. "And of course, we'll have to discuss it with your security chief."

"Cameron," Blair said as she rested her head against Cam's shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist. "I never asked your permission to do anything when you were my security chief. Why do you think it's going to be different now?"

Cam settled her cheek against the top of Blair's forehead, smiling to herself when she saw a muscle twitch at the corner of Stark's eye. "No idea."

*

"Was it horrible?" Diane asked, passing Blair a crystal glass filled with ice and scotch. They were sitting side by side on the sofa in Diane's living room. Blair still had on the suit she had worn to tour Ground Zero. Her shoes and slacks were gray with the residue of ash that covered everything there. Cam and Stark were in the kitchen, their muted voices creating a comforting backdrop.

"Yes." Blair's hand trembled as her eyes met those of her best friend. "I've been doing nothing but watching the television news reports since Tuesday, and I've seen all the pictures. But..." She took a healthy swallow of the liquor, grateful for the sharp burn that brought some feeling back into her body. Her mind, however, still felt numb. "It's so huge...the destruction goes on forever, it seems. And everyone there—the cops and firefighters and EMTs, the investigators, ordinary people on the streets—everyone just looks so shell-shocked. And underneath it all, you can feel the anger." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the sofa. "God."

"I saw some of the news footage of your visit today. Your father was fabulous. I felt better—safer—listening to him."

Blair smiled faintly. "Yes. He's really great. Sometimes I'm amazed that this man that the whole world considers one of the most powerful people on the planet is my father." She turned her head toward Diane and opened her eyes. "Sometimes I feel guilty wishing that he were just my father."

Diane slid closer and put her arm around Blair's shoulder. "I know. I don't blame you. Do you want to run away somewhere?"

"Can I take Cam?"

Diane smoothed her hand up and down Blair's arm. "Can I watch?"

"Watch what?" Cam asked as she walked in from the kitchen.

"Never mind," Blair replied.

Cam squatted down in front of Blair and put both hands on the outside of Blair's thighs, rubbing gently. "You doing okay, baby?"

Blair covered Cam's hands with hers. "I'm fine. I'm just tired."

"Do you still want to stay here tonight? I think we can cover that safely with the people Stark has."

"God, yes. I don't want to travel anymore. I just want to take a shower and curl up in bed and go to sleep."

"Honey," Diane said. "It's only eight o'clock."

"All right, then, I'll take a shower and curl up in bed with Cam and go to sleep a little bit later."

"Please don't put those pictures in my head," Diane said quickly. She brushed a kiss over Blair's cheek and rose. "Why don't you and Cam relax out here for a few minutes. I'm going to have some Thai delivered, and don't tell me you're not hungry because you will be when it gets here."

Cam took Diane's place on the sofa. "I'm hungry now."

"What about the spookies?"

"Hara has the night shift. I imagine she'd appreciate something to eat."

At that moment, Stark emerged from the kitchen, clipping her cell phone to her belt.

"How about you, Paula? Shall I put you down for some takeout?" Diane asked.

"Thanks, no. I'll be staying here tonight, but I need to go out for a couple of hours. I'll grab something while I'm gone."

Cam looked up, surprised. "Two on site overnight?"

"We're still at Priority One."

Stark spoke with quiet confidence, and Cam noticed. She settled back on the sofa and took Blair's hand in hers. "Your call, of course, Chief."

"Agents Krebs and Hara will be here for the evening," Stark said to Blair. "I'll be back before midnight. Please call me if you change your plans about staying in."

Blair shook her head wearily. "Believe me, Paula. I'm not moving from this apartment."

"Very good, then," Stark said. "Have a good evening."

"You too," Blair said. "Oh, and Paula?"

Stark turned. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Don't forget about the stick."

Stark grinned. "That's on my list, ma'am."

When Cam and Blair were alone, Cam said, "I spoke with Lucinda just now. She's working on a temporary apartment for you."

Blair raised an inquiring brow. "Lucinda is?"

"We need a safe house that's never been recorded by the Secret Service. Preferably one that no one knows about except the president, his security adviser, and Lucinda. We can't tell how far our internal security has been compromised."

"How long do you think it will be before I can move back home?"

"I don't know, baby." Cam cradled Blair's hand between both of hers. There was never going to be a good time for this. "It may never be secure enough for you to move back into the loft, Blair."

Blair jerked. "What? You mean I'm going to have to move?"

"Probably." Cam kissed Blair's palm. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Blair said dully. "God, I can't think about that right now." She closed her eyes. "I hate staying in safe houses. They feel so goddamned sterile."

"Just temporarily."

Blair stood abruptly, the frustration and fatigue finally winning. "How long is temporarily'? A few days? A few weeks? I can't paint with people in my back pocket all the time. I need to be alone. I need my own space to work."

Cam stood as well, but she did not touch Blair. "I know. I know what you need to work. I'll make it happen as fast as I can. I promise." She watched Blair stalk away, her arms wrapped around herself, and wanted to comfort her. She stayed where she was.

"Can I at least go by the apartment for an hour tomorrow? I need to get my canvases, Cam,"

"We can send someone for them."

Blair shook her head. "There are dozens, and it will be impossible for me to tell anyone else which ones I want. Besides, I need to look at them to decide." She whirled away, unwilling to allow Cam to see the tears that were as much impotent fury as sadness. "Send a goddamn armed guard with me. I don't care. I'm going to the loft in the morning. I'll pack up my work, and I'll go wherever you tell me to after that."

"Blair," Cam said gently, "I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that." With her back to the room, Blair stared out through the glass doors of the balcony into the gathering night. After a moment, in a quieter voice, she asked, "What if we went somewhere that no one knew about, not even Luce?"

"Have you got some place in mind?"

Blair swung back, around. "What about Whitley Point? It's isolated, we were safe there earlier this week, and we can bring the entire team and anything else you think we need. I'm sure that Tanner can find us a house to rent. It's off season, and there won't be very many people around." She took a few steps forward. "And I can work there, Cam. I can work and"—she drew a shaky breath—"maybe start to feel normal again."

Cam considered it. She'd have to bring her entire investigative team, or let Blair go alone. The second choice was not an option. Fortunately, thanks to Davis's computer skills, her investigation could be run from anywhere in the world. "Okay, go ahead and check with Tanner. If she can find us a place we can secure, I think Stark will agree that it's a reasonable solution. I'd be happy for you to be out of the public eye for a while."

"I'll call her right now." Blair took two steps toward the bedroom where she'd left her overnight bag and cell phone and then stopped, suddenly uncertain. "And you'll come with me, right?"

"Of course." Cam did go to her then and took her into her arms. Holding her close, she murmured, "We're together now. Remember?"

Silently, Blair nodded and pressed her face to Cam's neck breathing in her scent, centering herself in the feel of her body and the touch of her hands, beginning to allow herself to believe.

Chapter Thirteen

I 've been thinking about this all day," Blair said with a sigh as she slid naked into bed beside Cam just after eleven p.m. She turned on her side and drew her leg up over Cam's thighs, fitting herself into the curve of her lover's body as she rested her head on Cam's shoulder and her hand between Cam's breasts. She gave a small groan. "You feel so good."

Cam curved an arm around her and kissed her forehead. "So do you."

"I'm so tired."

"Me too."

Blair kissed Cam's throat, then her mouth. "I want to make love."

"Mmm."

"I think I'm too tired."

"Uh-huh." Cam covered Blair's hand and moved it to her breast. "Me too."

"I'll catch you in the morning," Blair said drowsily, her fingers playing over Cam's nipple.

"Deal," Cam muttered, already drifting into sleep.

Blair felt Cam's body relax and smiled to herself. As much as she loved to excite her, to share with her the passion she gave to no other, she reveled in the knowledge that here in her arms, Cam could relinquish the vigilance that occupied her every waking moment. Satisfied in a way she had never imagined, Blair surrendered to her own weariness and slept.

*

With trembling hands, Savard stroked Stark's face even as she shifted out from under her. "I'm sorry. I think I'm just too tired."

Heart pounding, her mind and body still absorbed with the urgent need to feel her lover's passion, Stark rolled away, panting. She captured Renee's hand as it stole between her thighs and drew it upward to her stomach, trapping it there. "No. I'm okay."

"Oh, sweetie, you're not. Let me touch you."

Stark shook her head, trying to gather the fragments of her reason. "No. Really." She pulled Renne into her arms and held her tightly. "I just missed you so much. I didn't mean to push."

"You weren't pushing, sweetie. I wanted you too." Savard's heart ached to hear the note of apology in her lover's voice. "God, it's just that 1 can't..." Feel anything. Only so cold inside, so numb, so disconnected from everything.

The awful void that had been flirting at the edges of her consciousness all week yawned before her, threatening to suck her into darkness, and a wave of dread rolled over her. She needed to feel something other than the horror, or she feared she would be lost. With a cry, Savard climbed on top of Stark and kissed her hard, thrusting her tongue deep inside her mouth. She dug her fingers into Stark's shoulders, desperate for connection, not even noticing when her lover flinched at the unexpected onslaught. Gasping, she drove her hips between Stark's legs. The pressure deep inside, born of panic rather than passion, was unbearable. Eyes closed, sweat beading her face, she forced herself upright on trembling arms and thrust wildly, but still her climax eluded her.

"Oh God, oh God," Savard moaned. "I can't, I can't."

"Renee," Stark soothed, cupping her face with both hands. "Baby. Honey. Easy, it's okay."

Mind and body screaming for release, Savard focused on Stark's voice and let the sound of love pull her back from the edge of that terrifying abyss. Her arms finally gave out and she collapsed into Stark's embrace. "Hold me, oh please, Paula, just hold me."

"I've got you," Stark whispered, wrapping her arms and legs around her and rocking her. She kissed her forehead, her eyes, her damp cheeks. She had no idea what was happening, but Renee was shaking uncontrollably, and that scared her more than just about anything ever had. "I'm right here. I'm right here. I love you."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Savard pushed her face into Stark's shoulder, her mouth open against the warm body—desperate for the taste of her skin, the comfort of her flesh.

"Don't say that." Stark stroked her face, her neck, her back. "Whatever you need, it's okay."

"Did I hurt you?"

Stark forced Savard's head up with a hand beneath her chin. "Renee," she said firmly. "Look at me." She waited until Renee opened her eyes and then kissed her, her own eyes open and holding her lover's gaze. "I love you. You didn't hurt me. You couldn't. But you 're hurting. Tell me what's happening, honey."

Savard's eyes burned with tears. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I think..." She looked away, retreating from the pain, then laughed shakily. "Just a, really lousy week."

"Yeah, I know." Stark searched her face, knowing there was more, and saw the fear shimmering in Savard's eyes. She forced herself to be patient. She guided Savard's head back to her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "Maybe you need a few days off."

"I can't. Not with this new assignment."

Stark chose her words carefully. "I think the Commander would probably understand—"

"No," Savard said sharply, pulling away from Stark's embrace. "This is too important. No one gets time off now. You know that, Paula."

"You're right," Stark said quietly, realizing that she would feel the same herself. Nothing could get her to take time off when the nation was at war. No matter what name was put to it, that was the situation. "I only thought—"

"I just need some sleep." Exhausted, Savard settled back down into Stark's arms.

"I can't stay tonight," Stark said miserably. "I want to."

"It's all right." Savard kissed her into silence, then turned on her side and pulled Stark's arm around her body. She clasped her lover's hand between her breasts. "Just hold me for a little while,"

Stark brushed her lips over the back of Savard's neck, wishing there were some way to reach into her heart and ease her pain. She gave the comfort of her body, praying that for now it would be enough. When she carefully slipped away an hour later, her lover was asleep. She left a note on the coffee table next to Savard's badge and gun.

I love you. See you soon.

The words seemed so inadequate, but they were all she had to give.

*

Blair drifted lazily upward through the mists of sleep, a gradual awareness of pleasure coalescing in her consciousness. She sighed and shifted restlessly, her body already nearing climax but her mind not yet registering what was happening. The muscles in her legs tightened as a shiver coursed through her spine, and she opened her eyes to the first whispers of orgasm. Unable to focus, she reached out blindly, finding first Cam's shoulder, then her face. She cupped Cam's cheek with trembling fingers and surged against her mouth, on the brink of exploding.

"I'm going to come," she said in wonder. And she closed her eyes again, drenched in pleasure. The ripples of release broke hard, one riding fast upon the next, each more intense than the last, and she cried out in surprise. Dimly, she felt Cam's fingers thread through hers, and she clutched the steady hand to anchor herself amidst the chaos.

When finally freed from the grip of her orgasm, she laughed weakly and tugged at Cam's hair. "You started without me."

"Mmm, guilty as charged." Cam worked her way up the bed and stretched out on top of Blair. She kissed her lightly, a tease of tongue over warm, soft lips. "Good morning."

"The best I've had in quite some time." Blair caught Cam's head in her hands as she pushed her thigh between Cam's legs, grinning when Cam jerked and caught her breath sharply. "I want to watch you come."

Cam groaned and rocked on Blair's leg, slicking her skin with the proof of her need. "Won't take.. .long."

"Keep your eyes open. Cam, Cam. Don't close your eyes." Blair was nearly breathless, desperate to absorb each glimmer of passion revealed in her lover's face. "So beautiful."

"Oh, God..."

The cell phone on the bedside table rang, and Cam groaned.

"Don't you dare," Blair warned.

The phone rang again, and with her last ounce of will, Cam pushed herself over onto her back and swept the phone up with a trembling hand.

"Roberts."

"Good morning, Agent Roberts," Lucinda Washburn said.

Cam stared at the ceiling, struggling to even out her breathing. "Ma'am."

Blair made a grab for the phone, and Cam curled onto her side, blocking her lover's arm. She felt Blair's teeth on the back of her shoulder and stifled a gasp.

"I've discussed the issue of temporary relocation with the security advisor, and we both agree it's a workable solution."

"Good. Thank you." Cam flinched away at a harder bite, grinning even as she started making mental plans for the move. "Is Stark aware? Because I'm sure Blair will want to leave today."

"She'll be briefed next."

"I want to take my team with me. There are two buildings on site—a smaller guesthouse that will work for my people."

"There's been a development in that regard," Lucinda said in a tone that put Cam instantly on guard.

Displacing Blair, she sat up in bed, totally focused. "Yes, ma'am."

"There'll be one more agent joining your team, as well," Lucinda said.

There it is. The price I have to pay for Savard and Davis.

"Coming from where?"

"Ah, that's classified, but I'm sure the agent will fill you in as needed."

Cam almost laughed. She'd be told what the NSA or the DOD or the CIA wanted her to know, and nothing else. Whether it would be the truth or not was always in question. She lifted her watch from the bedside table. 0545.

"I'm briefing with my team at 0700. Your agent can catch up—"

"Not my agent," Lucinda interrupted with a hint of uncharacteristic annoyance. "I don't appreciate having this forced on me any more than you do."

"Sorry, ma'am. I was out of line."

Lucinda sighed. "You're just not accustomed to up-close-and-personal politics, but I'm afraid that we're all going to get a lot more used to it in the future."

"I don't play politics where Blair is concerned."

"Things have changed. We all have to play the game now, Cam."

Blair felt Cam stiffen and heard the anger in her voice. She shifted closer, tucked her arm around Cam's waist, and then gently kissed the tip of her shoulder. "It's okay, sweetheart."

Cam caught back the next ill-advised comment and stroked Blair's hair. Then she took a deep breath and gathered her control. "Once I know today's schedule, I'll give you a contact time and place for the agent to join us."

"That won't be necessary. I expect she'll be arriving at your location in about forty-five minutes."

"Someone's in a hurry to find out what we're doing," Cam said dryly.

"There's a great deal of maneuvering going on down here between the various agencies. No one knows who's going to come out on top in the scramble to reorganize the security network, and everyone is afraid of being cut out."

"I can't be worried about egos and personalities. Everyone on my team has to be willing to take orders from me."

"You have my word on that."

"Thank you," Cam said, knowing that was the best assurance she could have. Still, she knew that this new agent would be reporting whatever intelligence they uncovered to her own superiors. Cam would have to keep a very close watch on the flow of information, because she had no idea whom she could trust.

"And, Cam," Lucinda said, "I wasn't given a choice about this. Be vigilant."

"Yes, ma'am. I always am." Cam disconnected and tossed the phone onto the bed. "Son of a bitch."

"What did she say?" Blair asked.

Cam made a conscious effort to rein in her temper. She stroked Blair's shoulder and back, waiting for her irritation to fade. "We're a go for Whitley Point."

"Oh, good. God, I'm glad. Can we go today?"

"Yes." Cam kissed Blair and drew her more closely into her embrace. "As soon as you collect your canvases and Stark gets the team together."

"What else did she say? What upset you?"

Cam shrugged. "Oh, just the usual bureaucratic bullshit. It's nothing."

Blair pushed herself up on her elbow, sweeping her hair out of her face with an irritated gesture as she fixed Cam with a hard stare. "Don't give me that crap. I heard your voice. You were furious. What did she say?"

"I'm getting another agent foisted on me from somewhere. FBI, NSA, who the hell knows. Probably someone being put in place to report on anything we turn up."

"You mean like.. .a snitch?"

Cam laughed. "Christ, that's a good word for it. I believe, though, they would be considered a counterintelligence agent. Someone whose job it is to gather intelligence about possible threats to national security. It's a very vaunted position."

"Well I'm sure it is, but we don't need them spying on us."

"I'm surprised Lucinda couldn't block it." Cam confessed. "Someone with a lot of power behind them wanted this to happen."

Blair relaxed against Cam's shoulder, aimlessly smoothing her hand up and down Cam's stomach. "I'm sure you can handle it."

"Your faith in me is inspiring," Cam said in a lighter tone. "I should get up. Our new team member is due here in half an hour."

"They were certainly eager to get him on board."

"Her."

"Oh really?" Blair's hand stopped moving. "You know, I seem to be surrounded by an inordinate number of female spies."

Cam laughed. "Baby, we're not spies."

"Oh, all right then, spooks." Blair began stroking again, her fingertips brushing back and forth through the curls at the base of Cam's belly. "Still, I wonder what that's about."

"Probably coincidence." Or maybe someone thinks you'll be more open around women. They don't know you very well. Cam covered Blair's hand and guided it lower. "I have to get up in two minutes."

Blair bit Cam's shoulder once more and slipped her fingers slowly inside her. "Make it five."

Cam lifted her hips to take her deeper and instantly felt her clitoris surge back to life. "Don't think so."

"Try," Blair murmured as she rose above her, angling her arm to claim her more fully. "And don't close your eyes."

"Christ," Cam muttered, her vision wavering, "you're tough."

Aware only of Blair inside her, somewhere beyond the boundaries of her flesh and blood, she climaxed to the beautiful sound of Blair's laughter.

Chapter Fourteen

Saturday, September 15

B lair found Diane entertaining Stark, Patrice Kara, and Greg Wozinski with stories of their youthful indiscretions over coffee and croissants in the living room. Fortunately, they seemed to be getting the G-rated version.

"Diane," Blair said mildly as she reached for the coffee carafe, "I prefer that you not educate them in all my techniques for eluding surveillance."

All three Secret Service agents laughed, although Hara and Wozinski cast obvious sidelong glances at each other. Blair caught the looks and surmised that they had heard of her tendency to ditch her assigned protectors with regularity. Laughing, she said to Stark, "I see you've briefed them thoroughly."

Stark answered with a deadpan expression. "Of course. That's standard operating procedure,"

"Where's Cam?" Diane inquired.

"She'll be right out. She's... "Blair had been about to say arranging a briefing with Savard when it occurred to her that Cam might not want to disclose the nature of her special investigation to Stark or the other Secret Service agents. "She's on the phone."

"Here," Diane said, holding out a cup of coffee. "Why don't you take this to her in case she's going to be a while. She's probably ready for it by now."

"Thanks." Blair accepted the mug and turned toward the hallway, but at that moment, Cam walked in.

"Is that for me?"

Blair held it out. "Compliments of Diane."

"Thank you," Cam said before taking a sip. She looked at Stark and said, "Can I see you for two minutes, Chief?"

Stark quickly set her cup aside and bounded up. "Sure thing, Commander."

They walked to the other side of the room and stood facing the balcony. Cam kept her voice low when she spoke. "I'm expecting an agent to meet me here in the next few minutes, so you might alert your ground team. Then I'm going to head over to your apartment for a quick briefing with Savard and Davis. I imagine Blair will want to go to the loft as soon as possible."

"I've got the vehicles standing by, and I called in two extra people from the swing shift," Stark said. "We're covered."

"I'd prefer it if you could wait for me, but I know she's not going to want to. I'll have to meet you there." Cam looked once in Blair's direction and saw that she was deep in conversation with Patrice Hara. "Make sure you check the high ground, Stark, before you let her exit the vehicle."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And send in an advance team to secure the lobby before she enters the building."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And the elevators...Don't forget she gets off last and that you need—" Cam stopped abruptly. "Christ. Sorry."

Stark's eyes never left Cam's face. "I understand, Commander. It never hurts to run through procedures again."

Cam let out a long breath. "I know you know the job, Stark. I, uh...she's just..."

"Yes, ma'am. She is."

"Savard told you about our investigation?" Cam asked, changing the subject with relief.

"Uh..."

"Don't worry—there's no problem there. I advised her to. There's no way we can run an operation of this magnitude without Blair's security team being aware of it. Hell, we're all going to be working and probably living in close proximity for the next few weeks, if not months." She inclined her head toward Patrice and Greg. "They don't need to know the details, but the basics will be apparent. We have to assume that Justice looked at the new team members thoroughly, but I still don't want to take anyone into complete confidence on this except you."

"I'll handle that, Commander."

Cam gave Stark's shoulder a brief squeeze. "Thanks. It helps that you—"

Stark's radio sounded and she listened for a few seconds. "Double-check the ID." She glanced at Cam. "An agent, asking for you." She listened again and raised her eyebrows. "CIA."

"Perfect," Cam muttered. CIA agents were notorious for not being team players. No one in the other services really trusted them, and with good reason. They showed little allegiance to anyone except their own director, never shared intelligence—and what they did share was always suspect. "Do you have a name?"

"Lawrence."

Cam shook her head. The name rang no bells.

"What shall we do with her, Commander?"

"Send her up. We might as well get a look at her."

Stark relayed the message and signed off.

"Kind of strange, isn't it?" Stark asked. "CIA doesn't usually get involved in domestic issues."

"All bets are off, now. And besides," Cam said pointedly, "we have no idea what they might know about the situation that we don't. Let's hope we can work this street both ways and learn as much from them as they think they're going to learn from us."

"Now there's a plan I can get behind."

The buzzer sounded and Cam said, "I should be at the Aerie by 0830."

"Yes, ma'am. See you then."

Cam crossed the living room while the others continued to talk and opened the door. She felt a wave of dizziness, as if the room had suddenly spun three hundred and sixty degrees while she stood rooted in place. Then her natural instincts surfaced and she felt nothing but a cold calm. Valerie looked different than she had ever seen her before. She was just as beautiful—dressed just as elegantly as ever in a Prada business suit and low Ferragamo heels—and her eyes held the same glimmer of compassion that had always drawn Cam in. But this morning she wore a weapon on her right hip, although no one who wasn't very good at detecting such things would have noticed because of the excellent cut of her suit jacket. But the core of steel that Cam always knew Valerie possessed was very close to the surface now. It was evident in the way she stood and in the sheer power of her gaze. She radiated the supreme confidence that some agents had, but few deserved.

"Agent Lawrence," Cam said quietly. "Is it still Valerie?"

"It is, yes."

Cam glanced at her watch. "We have a briefing in twenty minutes, so if you don't mind, I'd like to leave the introductions until later. Although, of course, I'm sure you know everyone's names already."

Valerie's eyes skimmed past Cam to where Diane sat on the sofa, laughing at something that Blair had said. At that instant, Diane turned her head, a look of shock crossing her face when she registered Valerie's presence. Diane stood quickly and took two rapid steps forward, her expression of pleasure quickly turning to one of uncertainty.

"I just need one minute," Valerie said, her gaze still fixed on Diane's face.

Cam didn't need to turn to know who Valerie was looking at. "I'll say goodbye to Blair."

"Valerie?" Diane asked, her voice raised in surprise.

"I only have a few seconds right now," Valerie said quickly. "Everything I said to you was true. But there—"

"What are you doing here?"

"Just listen, Diane." Valerie touched her hand so fleetingly it might have been an accident. "I couldn't tell you everything before. I'm a federal agent. I—"

Diane's expression shut down, her face going as blank as if she'd suddenly donned a mask. "Never mind. I don't want to hear it." She turned abruptly and without a word walked past Cam, who was on her way back to the door.

"Ready?" Cam asked.

"Yes." Valerie watched Diane until she disappeared into the far hallway, then met Cam's gaze without a trace of emotion. "Let's go."

*

They'd been in the car ten minutes before Cam broke the silence. "Why did they bring you in now?"

"Since Tuesday, priorities have changed," Valerie replied.

"You must have been under for a long time to establish Claire's identity. I can't imagine they neutralize your kind of operative's cover lightly."

Valerie put her back against the door to face Cam in the driver's seat. "They don't tell me all the reasons, Cameron. But we all know how important Blair's security is." She saw Cam's hands tighten on the wheel, but continued evenly. "I know the players. And believe it or not, there are people who think that I can be helpful in the situation."

Cam swiveled her head and fixed Valerie with a cold stare before averting her gaze back to the traffic. "Well you know me, don't you?"

"You fell into the net by accident, Cameron. You were never an intended target."

A muscle in Cam's jaw bunched. "And I don't suppose you can tell me who you were supposed to be spying on, can you? When you weren't fucking them, that is."

"As you no doubt realize, my job description is counterintelligence, and Washington, DC is an excellent place to find out what our friends are really up to."

"Yes, it's amazing what you will reveal when someone's just fu—"

"Cameron, please don't," Valerie said quietly. "It was never like that with you."

Cam stared straight ahead. "Are you going to tell me that you never filed a report on me?"

"I'm not going to lie about that—"

Cam laughed bitterly.

"But there was never anything compromising in the reports."

"I guess reporting to the CIA that the first daughter's security chief is frequenting whores on Capitol Hill doesn't strike you as being compromising. Christ." She had to make an effort not to grind her teeth. "I'm surprised they didn't bust me out a long time ago."

"Everyone has secrets, Cameron. Sometimes secrets can be powerful currency."

Abruptly, Cam swerved to the curb and jammed on the brakes. She swiveled to face Valerie. "Was any of it true?"

"Every touch," Valerie said quietly.

Cam searched her eyes and saw the pain. She searched her own heart for the true source of the rage that had followed fast upon the disbelief at finding Valerie at the door that morning. She'd never been in love with her, but she'd cared. Deeply. And she'd let Valerie see things that she revealed to very few people—she'd exposed herself in her weakest moments.

"Christ"

"I'm sorry, Cameron. But I can't apologize for doing my job, only that I hurt you in the process."

"Right." Cam grimaced, thinking that she'd said the same thing more than once herself. "We're going to have to work together, and frankly, I don't trust you."

"Camer—"

"I don't trust any CIA agents. On principle." Cam grinned briefly when she saw a true smile flicker across Valerie's full lips. "But as far as I'm concerned, whatever happened between us is personal. That's not part of the job now."

"Thank you." Valerie put her hand on Cam's wrist. "You were never an assignment, never work, for me."

Cam turned her hand over and slid her palm into Valerie's, their fingers linked and their eyes held, a silent acknowledgment of what they had once been to one another. Then they separated, settling back into their seats as Cam started the car.

*

"Agents Savard, Davis, Lawrence," Cam said, making rapid introductions as everyone found seats in the small living room of Stark and Savard's apartment. Cam took the end seat on the sofa and reached for the coffee mug that Savard had placed in front of her on the low wooden table. Absently, she noted that the fish tank against the far wall seemed to have a new batch of baby somethings congregated just below the surface in a shimmering silver cloud. Then the apartment receded from her view, and all her focus turned to Savard. "What do we know?"

"It's more what we don't know," Savard said. "We concentrated on the IDs of the four dead commandos, and the short answer is, no one knows who they are. Fingerprints haven't turned up anything in our databases or NCIC."

"Don't tell me these guys aren't ex-military," Cam said sharply. "These guys were professionally trained."

"Interpol?" Valerie asked quietly.

Savard gave her a long look. She 'd recognized her from a previous investigation when a few agents very close to Cam and Blair had learned of Cam's liaison with a woman identified as a Washington call girl. Apparently they had been mistaken. "They're still checking."

"DNA?" Cam asked of Felicia.

Felicia shook her head. "Not yet, but Quantico expects results within twenty-four hours."

Cam didn't ask how Felicia knew that, and she didn't care. All that mattered was that she had access to whatever intelligence was available without delay. Even though she should be able to get any information she needed to run her investigation, if she went through regular channels there would be resistance at every level, and it might take weeks to learn what Felicia could discover in a matter of hours by hacking into the various databases.

"Someone knows who these guys are. Let's get their faces out to every possible source here and abroad." Cam turned to Valerie, who sat slightly apart from the others in an overstuffed chair that had seen better days. "Any place in particular we should be looking?"

"Our best guess," Valerie replied carefully, "is the Middle East or Afghanistan. Second-best guess, Libya, although we don't believe they have the contacts required to orchestrate Tuesday's attack."

"All right," Felicia said. "That's a place to start."

"In the meantime," Cam said, "if we can't get anything on the commandos, then we'll have to concentrate on Foster. I want to know everything about him from the minute he was born. I want the names of the people he roomed with at the Academy, the women or men he dated, the names of the agents he worked with on previous assignments, his previous partners, his travel itinerary for the last ten years. I want to know everywhere he's been, everything he's done, every last thing about him."

"Since the assault team members were all Caucasian," Valerie said, "I'd suggest looking at all the paramilitary organizations nationwide. That fits their profile." She looked at Savard. "The FBI should have a considerable file internally, but there has been some counterintelligence activity by.. .other organizations, as well."

Felicia smiled. "I'll have a look around."

"Good. Let's start putting together organizational profiles on every known paramilitary group," Cam instructed. "Personnel, geographic location, financial resources, political affiliations, publications, propaganda.. .anything that might hint at armed retaliation."

"Do we have anything that ties these guys to the World Trade Center?" Savard asked, directing her attention pointedly toward Valerie.

"No," Valerie replied, her expression completely composed. "From what we know now, the hijackers appear to have been foreign terrorists. The men who attacked Ms. Powell were not." She sighed. "And neither event was anticipated. Certainly not in the present time frame."

"We need access to your people's intelligence files," Cam said, deciding it was time to find out whose side Valerie was really on. "Can you get us in?"

Valerie hesitated. "As far as I have access, yes."

"If you open the door," Felicia said, "I'll—"

Cam's cell phone emitted a series of sharp, staccato beeps and she yanked it off her belt as she jumped to her feet. "Roberts."

"Cameron," Lucinda Washburn said with an urgency that Cam had never heard in her voice before. "There's been an incident at the Aerie. They've called for a HAZMAT team and quarantined the building."

Cam didn't hear the rest of the message because she was already running for the door.

Chapter Fifteen

T he NYPD had worked fast. Cam ran into the first barricade two blocks from Gramercy Park. Patrol cars angled across the intersection and a bevy of uniformed cops milled in the street. Three helicopters swooped low over the tops of nearby buildings. She slammed her car to a halt nose-in against the curb, yanked the keys from the ignition, and jumped out. She was vaguely aware of shouts aimed in her direction as she ran, her badge extended in her left hand. Dodging and weaving around the bodies that interposed themselves between her and her destination, she just kept screaming, "Secret Service. Secret Service," and shouldering aside anyone who didn't get out of her path quickly enough.

When she rounded the corner of the gated square diagonally across from Blair's building, the congestion in the streets was magnified a hundredfold. Squad cars, ambulances, bomb squad armored vehicles, and official personnel from the police, fire, and emergency rescue departments clogged the sidewalks and streets. She rapidly scanned the building's facade, half expecting to see the top floors gone. The only thing she could imagine was that a bomb had detonated or was about to.

Her stomach cramped, her legs screamed with acid build up, and her chest burned with air hunger, and none of it was from her race through the crowds. It was from a terror that had gripped her the moment Lucinda's words had registered. Someone had gotten to Blair. Despite everything she had done, everything she had anticipated, everything she was— -someone had gotten to her lover. Christ. God Blair!

"Secret Service, get out of the way. Get out of the way," she barked as she pushed and shoved her way toward the double glass doors to the lobby of Blair's apartment building. "Secret Serv—"

Several pairs of hands grabbed her jacket and dragged her away from the door as a wall of blue closed around her. Blindly, she reacted with an elbow strike that found a target, as evidenced by a grunt and a muffled curse. Then her back was slammed into the wall, followed by her head, and the world spun in a dizzying circle, trees and sky and sidewalk flashing by in an off-kilter parade before her eyes.

"Commander. Commander!" A woman's voice shouted somewhere very close to her ear. "Ease up!"

Cam struggled to find her balance, her head still reeling. She knew that voice. She blinked, tried to focus. Hara. Hara and Wozinski. Wozinski had her pinned up against the building with a beefy forearm across her chest. Hara, one hand restraining Cam's right wrist in a viselike grip, was waving off an angry trio of NYPD officers with her other arm.

"Secret Service. We've got this," Hara yelled. "Back off. We've got this."

"Let me go," Cam said in a flat, hard voice.

Wozinski looked at Hara for direction, but she just shook her head and angled her body so that her back was to the cops who still stood muttering nearby. With her face very close to Cam's, she said, "If we let you go and you make a move for the front door again, those cops are going to haul you away, and we won't be able to stop them this time. We could use your help here, Commander. It's your call."

"Is she alive?" Cam asked, her eyes boring into Hara's.

"As far as we know, yes."

"I want to talk to her."

"NYPD has diverted all calls to their own channels. They're jamming cell signals in this sector. We can't—"

Cam twisted her wrist in a move designed to break the strongest restraining grip, and got as far as dislodging Wozinski's arm from her chest before both agents drove their shoulders into her midsection again. Their combined weight forced the air from her lungs and her legs deserted her. Only the two bodies jammed against hers kept her upright.

Hara continued speaking in a calm, even tone as if nothing had happened. "The NYPD is not taking any chances after what happened Tuesday. Right now, their antiterrorism team is running the show, and they're jittery as hell. If we want some control back, you're going to have to get it for us. Commander? Commander, are you getting this?"

"Yes," Cam wheezed. "I'm okay. Let me go."

"Okay, Greg, ease up," Hara said after a long look at Cam's face.

Immediately, Cam felt the pressure on her chest lessen, and she was finally able to get a full breath. She coughed, and her bruised ribs protested. "Sorry." Ignoring the pain, she gulped in another breath and felt her head start to clear. "Fill me in. Fast."

"We don't have much." Hara lowered her voice. "The chief, Egret, and Tony Fazio went up to the penthouse. Greg and I were detailed to the lobby. Waters and O'Reilly are on the rear door."

Cam wanted to shout Tell me about Blair, God damn it! but her years of training kept her focused. She needed to know everything if she was going to take charge. And if Blair was in trouble, she wasn't going to let anyone else take care of her. "What happened up there?"

"We don't know. The chief radioed a code red with orders to contain the building. While we were doing that, she must've called in a red alert to the NYPD, because the next thing we knew, we were overrun with uniforms and nobody's telling us anything."

"Have you seen a command vehicle?"

Wozinski pointed toward the northeast corner of the park. "Opposite side of the street, about halfway up the block. We couldn't get close."

"I can." Cam rubbed her chest unconsciously, but the pain wouldn't abate. She welcomed it. It kept her head clear. "You two stay on the door. No one goes up to that penthouse unless I'm with them, got it?"

"The only ones who have gone up there so far are the HAZMAT team," Wozinski said.

"I don't care if the next one in is the president, I go too."

Both agents visibly relaxed. Simultaneously, they said, "Yes, ma'am."

Cam straight-armed her way down the street, waving her badge and repeating over and over, "Secret Service. I'm looking for Captain Stacy Landers." Landers was the head of the NYPD security division assigned to liaise with the Secret Service and to provide additional forces whenever the president or Blair made public appearances in the region. Landers' division was also part of the antiterrorism squad, and Cam knew she'd be heading up the operation. "Landers. Captain Landers. Where is she?"

Finally, she got close enough to pound a fist on the closed door of the black armored van that bristled with satellite antennae. A face appeared at the small rectangular- bulletproof glass window for a second and then was gone. A voice over the intercom next to the door instructed, "Hold your ID badge up to the camera, please."

Cam faced the video camera lens mounted above the door and held her ID next to her right cheek so that her face and the image on her badge were visible. Ten seconds later, the door slid open two feet revealing a giant of a man in a SWAT uniform. He wasn't smiling. "Come on in, Agent Roberts."

Three men and a woman were crowded into the narrow central aisle, clustered around a bank of video monitors that showed both limited views of both the exterior and interior of Blair's building as well as an aerial shot of the roof relayed from one of the helicopters Cam had heard circling overhead. The woman, a redhead in a tan jacket and slacks, looked over her shoulder at Cam. Her green eyes flickered for an instant with compassion, then went hard.

"Commander."

"Captain," Cam said, leaning over to peer at the monitors receiving images from the surveillance cameras placed throughout Blair's building. There was no view of the interior of the loft because she herself had ordered the video cameras removed from Blair's living space to protect her privacy. The rest of the building seemed eerily deserted. She hadn't expected to see Blair, but still the disappointment was like a knife cutting through her. She wanted to tear the van apart. Procedure. I have to follow procedure if I want to get to Blair. "Status?"

"Egret's security chief radioed a red alert fifty minutes ago," the captain of the NYPD antiterrorism squad reported. "Apparently they ran into some kind of foreign substance up there. We're assuming it's a chemical agent."

"Casualties?" Cam gripped the edge of a metal bracket securing the monitors to the side wall of the vehicle so hard that the edge cut into the skin of her palm. Her mind rebelled at the possibilities. Cyanide, ricin, sarin. Oh my God.

"None reported. We've shut down the building's exhaust units and the Public Works people are isolating the outflow from this grid into special holding tanks." She stopped abruptly and pressed two fingers to the earpiece cradled in the shell of her right ear, tilting her head as if to improve the reception. After a moment, she muttered, "Roger that, sir. Yes, sir, I have that," into her throat mike. She looked up at Cam, her expression grim. "That was the president's security adviser. I've been ordered to hold our HAZMAT unit outside the apartment until a team from Fort Derrick gets here."

"USAMRIID?"

"Yeah. They're already in the air. ETA twenty-five minutes."

It only took another second for Cam to make the connection, and then her stomach twisted. The U.S. Army Medical Research and Materiel Command located at Fort Detrick, Maryland was the only facility in the Department of Defense with a BSL-4 laboratory. What the hell do they think is up there?

"Open a line to the loft. I want to talk to Blair. Now."

*

Blair jumped when the portable phone on her breakfast bar rang, staring at it as if it were alive. The last time she'd tried it, for what must have been the fiftieth time, it had been without a signal. None of their ceil phones or radios worked either. That couldn't be a coincidence, or an accident. They hadn't heard from anyone in almost thirty minutes, and being kept in the dark as to what was happening really really pissed her off.

She snatched up the phone and snapped, "Blair Powell. Who the hell is this?"

"It's Cam, baby. You okay?" Cam tried desperately to keep the tremor from her voice.

"Hey," Blair said gently, her temper instantly soothed. "I'd be great if somebody would tell me what the hell is going on."

"You're not hurt? You're not sick in any way?"

"No. We all seem to be all right." Blair moved to the other side of the loft from where Stark and Fazio paced in tight circles, their useless cell phones clutched in their hands. "Where are you?"

"Right out front with Stacy Landers. Can you tell me what happened?"

"We were moving my canvases," Blair explained, "and there was a plastic bag stuck between two of them. We didn't see it there, and when we pulled the frames apart, whatever was in the bag spilled out."

Cam was struck by a wave of dizziness and braced a hand against the ceiling of the van to steady herself. "Spilled out or blew into the air? Do you remember?"

"Uh.. .a little of both, really. What's going on, Cam?"

"We're not sure just yet. Who actually broke open the bag?" Who had the most exposure to whatever was in it?

"Fazio—-he was unpacking some of the crates for me. Why?"

"Stark and Fazio are both all right too?"

"Yes. We were instructed to move as far away from the problem site as possible without leaving the apartment. That was over half an hour ago, and that's the last we heard from anybody. Why are we being kept up here?"

Cam hesitated and then realized that the truth was the only choice. Blair could handle anything from her except a lie. "We have to assume that substance—the powder, whatever it is—-is potentially harmful. We can't move you until the potential contamination is contained. We're bringing in a team now to do that."

"There's a HAZMAT team here somewhere, I heard them talking to Stark on her radio before we lost contact with everyone. Why aren't they in here decontaminating us, if that's what we're waiting for?"

"Washington is sending up a special team," Cam said. Her shirt and jacket were soaked with sweat, despite the fifty degree temperature outside and the powerful air-conditioning unit in the van that ran at full power to cool the electronic equipment. The inactivity was making her crazy. She wanted a firsthand look at the situation. She wanted to see Blair. "They'll be here any minute."

"Yeah, yeah. Any minute. I'll bet." Impatiently, Blair strode to the windows and looked down to the street. "God, there's five times as many people down there now as there were twenty minutes ago. What aren't you telling me?"

"We're all pretty much waiting on this team to arrive, baby. As soon as they touch down, I'll come up with them."

"That's grea—" Blair stopped her restless route around the perimeter of the room, her eyes narrowing. "They're coming from DC. So someone either knows what this is or thinks they do, because they don't want the local people handling it. Just who are these people, Cam?"

"USAMRIID."

Silence ensued while Blair searched her memory for an association to the familiar-sounding name. "Wait a minute, isn't that part of the bioterrorism response unit?"

"Yes."

"So," Blair said thoughtfully, reaching behind her to grip a chair back. She suddenly felt light-headed, and the feeling frightened her. "What are we talking here? Ebola? Some kind of plague?"

"I don't know, baby," Cam said in frustration, hating the note of fear she'd heard in Blair's voice for the first time. "I'm waiting to find out, the same as you."

"I don't want you coming up here," Blair said sharply. I won't have anything happening to you. Not again.

"I'll come up with the containment team. I'll be perfectly saf—"

"No. " Blair saw both Stark and Fazio glance at her in alarm and she waved them off, mouthing, It's okay, when they started toward her.

"Listen to me, Blair. I need to see you. I need to be sure you're all right. I'm coming up."

"Cameron, think. My security chief is stuck in here with me. I've got no one on the outside who knows anything about me except Lucinda, and she's not capable of running the ground show. I need you healthy so that you can handle my security while they sort out whatever this thing is. If you get sick, or they even think you are, you won't be any use to me. Think, sweetheart. I need you out there, not in here." Don't come near me. I won't have you die because of me.

"We don't even know there's anything dangerous up there. I'll be well protected."

"Cameron, if you don't do this for me, I'll have Stark tell Stacy Landers to keep you away from here altogether."

Cam swore vehemently. The four NYPD officers hanging on her every word pretended not to notice. "Blair, don't do that."

"Promise me you won't come up here." She waited, the silence ringing hollowly between them. "Cameron. Promise."

"All right," Cam finally said. "Unless I get clearance from the USAMRIID team."

"Fine, but I want to hear it from their team leader." Blair let out a sigh. "Stark is waving to me. She wants to talk to you. I've got to go. I love you."

"I love you." Cam's throat was so tight she could barely speak. "I'll see you soon."

Stark took the phone from Blair with a nod of thanks. "Commander. I felt given the circumstances I had no choice but to—-"

"It was a good call, Chief," Cam said. "Blair—all of you, you're all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Any word yet on what we're dealing with?"

"Negative. You'll just have to sit tight until the biohazard team from Fort Detrick has a look."

"Fort Detrick? Oh man." Stark turned away from Blair and Fazio and cupped her hands around the phone. "In today's briefing there was a report about that team investigating a bioterrorism attack in New Jersey. They suspected anthrax."

Cam closed her eyes, but she could still see the white powder blowing in the air.

Chapter Sixteen

T he dial tone that severed Cam's tenuous connection to Biair sounded as ominous as incoming shell fire. And this was an enemy Cam could not fight—not with force or skill or even her formidable willpower. This time she would have to rely on others to do that, and the prospect left her feeling helpless and impotent. Her fingers clenched the phone as the stifling air in the van closed in around her. A rush of anger and frustration filled her head, momentarily clouding her reason and fracturing her control.

"God damn it," she said as her fist struck the inside wall of the van with enough force to send a tremor through the vehicle. She didn't feel the pain as the skin split over her knuckles and a small fissure cracked in a bone in her little finger. She tossed the cell phone onto the narrow counter in front of Stacy Landers and pivoted toward the double rear doors, intent on reaching Blair. Someone behind her must have signaled, because the officer in the SWAT uniform blocked her way with an agile sidestep that she would have thought impossible for him to make, considering his bulk. "Step aside."

Her voice was once again modulated and calm. But her face was cold as death. From somewhere in the van, Captain Landers said, "I'm sorry, Cam. But you'll have to wait it out down here with the rest of us. There's nothing you can do up there now."

Perhaps it was the use of her first name, or the fact that Cam already knew that Landers was right, but she checked the movement that would have driven her shoulder hard against the SWAT team officer's chest. "I need some air."

"Good idea," Landers said. "Let her by, Lieutenant Maxwell."

"Yes, ma'am," the man said and smoothly shifted out of Cam's path.

She shoved open the rear doors and jumped down to the sidewalk. Immediately, she was surrounded.

"What's happened?" Renee demanded, her fingers clamped around Cam's forearm. "Has someone been wounded up there? Why the fuck won't they let us up? What about our people? What about Blair, Paula?"

Although the questions were reasonable, the tone of Savard's voice sent a warning signal that dissipated the remaining haze of Cam's anger. The FBI agent sounded as if she was about to crack. Cam took a close look at her, and what she saw made her shake off Savard's arm and point to the far side of the vehicle. "Let's talk over there, Agent."

Felicia and Valerie, standing nearby, moved to follow, but Cam shook her head and indicated they should wait. Both women looked impatient and concerned, but they accepted her orders. On the far side of the van, out of range of prying eyes and intrusive cameras, Cam said, "Let me fill you in, Renee."

"Paula? What about Paula? Is she hurt?"

"Paula is fine. I just talked to her. There's been exposure to an unknown substance, and they went to red alert status. SOP. We're waiting on a special decontamination team right now."

"I want to talk to her." Savard's speech was taut with tension and fear.

Cam shook her head. "You can't. You know the procedure. The longer lines are open, the more likely that transmissions will be intercepted and the greater the chance we'll have a media leak. In situations like this where the use of a biowarfare agent is a possibility, we could have widespread panic. Mass evacuations, civilian casualties. We can't risk it. You'll have to wait"

Savard's eyes flicked to the apartment building across the street, but what she saw were the Towers coming down and, everywhere, the devastation. The defenselessness and horror was suffocating. Gasping, she whispered in a tortured voice, "I can't."

"Yes, you can," Cam said quietly, placing both hands on Savard's shoulders and lowering her head until their eyes met and held. Her tone was firm, yet gentle. "You and Felicia and I are going to do whatever needs to be done to take care of the situation. Paula is counting on you to handle this, and so am I. This isn't like Tuesday, Renee. We're going to have a chance to fight back."

"I can't take it." Savard's gaze wavered as she opened and clenched her hands spasmodically. "I can't lose her. I can't. I just can't."

"I know."

Suddenly, Savard jerked, and her tormented eyes widened. Her pupils, dark passageways to her own personal hell, flickered wildly. "Oh my God. Blair? Is she—"

"Pretty pissed off," Cam said with a tender laugh. "But otherwise, she sounded fine."

When Savard saw the pain shadow Cam's face and heard the tremor of desperate love in her voice, she understood that she was not alone in her agony. She drew her shoulders back and straightened. Her blue eyes cleared, and some of the color returned to her face. "What do you need me to do, Commander?"

Carp's expression hardened as she squeezed Savard's shoulders and then let go. "I need you to tap into your sources and get me as much information as you can about a similar occurrence yesterday at a government complex in New Jersey—the nature of the suspected toxic agent, number and type of casualties, whether any perpetrators took credit for the attack—anything. Get me that as quickly you can."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll be back as soon as I have something."

As Savard turned away, Felicia stepped up to Cam with Valerie just behind her. "The bomb team is still outside the building, so I assume we're not dealing with explosives this time."

"No," Cam said with a quick look around. Seeing no one close enough to overhear, she rendered a rapid recounting of what Blair and Stark had told her. As she spoke, she watched Valerie's face, looking for some sign that the news of a biological weapon did not come as a surprise to the CIA. "Do you have anything to add, Agent Lawrence?"

"When is the team from Detrick expected?" Valerie asked.

Cam checked her watch. "ETA eighteen minutes."

"Let's take a little walk," Valerie said, edging through the crowd that was clustered around the command vehicle.

The three women cut briskly through the milling bodies until they reached the gated entrance to the east side of the park. Cam removed her keys and opened the gate, letting it swing closed and lock behind them. While outside the block-square oasis of trees and flowers and wending walkways the streets and sidewalks seethed with activity, inside the quietude was seductively soothing. Cam strode twenty feet down a narrow stone path and then turned abruptly to face Valerie. "What else don't we know that we should have been told? If you people put her at risk, I swear I'll make someone pay for it."

Valerie shook her head. "I don't know what we know and what we don't, Cameron. I'm counterintelligence, not counterterrorism."

"You're a spy."

"I'm a field agent," Valerie said with an impatient shrug. "I have a broad assignment to monitor individuals who"—she hesitated—"might have information of interest to our government."

"Which means what?"

"Which means that I have no reason to be briefed on whatever intel Langley might have related to what's happening here. Have we suspected that certain unfriendly governments are intensely involved with developing bioweapons? Absolutely. Was there an indication of an imminent attack within this country? I'm not aware of any such intelligence."

Cam impatiently pushed a hand through her hair. "Can you find out? Or is this information highway only running in one direction?"

Unconsciously, Valerie closed the distance between them and placed her hand on Cam's upper arm. Her face and voice were filled with sympathy. "Cameron, I'll do what I can. But you must know how closed the system is, even to those of us on the inside. There isn't a more guarded organization in the world."

"Try," Cam said quietly. "Just.. .try."

Valerie nodded, stroking Cam's arm slowly. "I will."

They stared at one another, anger and compassion warring in their eyes.

Felicia spoke into the gathering silence. "What do you think the team from Detrick will do when they get here? That building is a security nightmare now."

At last, Cam turned and looked through the treetops, their leaves a riotous palette of oranges and reds and golds, to where the sun glinted off the windows of Blair's loft. Despite the fact that the apartment was fortified like a prison, within those walls Blair had had a certain degree of freedom. It was the one place where no one watched her; the one safe haven where she could create her art. Now, she was about to lose even that.

"They'll move them. Then they'll quarantine them."

*

"What did Cam say?" Blair asked.

"Not much, because I don't think there's much to tell yet," Stark answered truthfully. "The team from Fort Detrick will be here soon, though."

"And then what?"

"I'm not sure." Involuntarily, Stark glanced to the far end of the room where the remaining canvases stood, imagining she could still see the white powder drifting on the bright early-morning shafts of sunlight. "I guess it depends on what they think it is."

Blair glanced over to where the male Secret Service agent stood at the window with his back to them, watching the street below. She didn't know him, and although she trusted him on principle, years of habit had made her circumspect; she hesitated to reveal her fears and uncertainties in front of anyone except those she trusted most. "What if they don't know what it is?"

Stark thought about the morning briefing and the possibility of anthrax or something far worse. Her stomach rolled, and she quickly suppressed the shudder of fear that followed. Her responsibility was to contain the situation, and although there was nothing she could do if they had been seriously compromised by some biological agent, she could carry the worry herself and spare Blair's peace of mind, at least for the moment. "I'm sure whatever it is, they'll know what to do."

*

The black van with the revolving red light on top edged slowly through the sea of bodies toward Blair's building, finally coming to a halt with the right front wheel up on the sidewalk. The side door slid open, and two men climbed out. A woman stepped down from the front passenger compartment. All wore Army uniforms. The driver, also in uniform, exited and hurried to the rear. Once there, he pulled open the

double doors and reached inside. With efficient movements, he passed full-body coveralls constructed of Tychem F, a material affording the highest level of protection against biological and chemical agents, to the three Army officers.

Cam and Stacy Landers arrived as the team members were suiting up.

"I'm Cameron Roberts, Egret's acting security chief. I want to go up with you," Cam said.

The older of the two men, a well-built redhead with sun-weathered skin and a military haircut, shook his head. "Sorry, Agent...Roberts, was it? It's against protocol."

"Look," Cam said sharply, unable to contain her frustration, "that's the president's dau—"

The only woman on the team, whose name tag read Captain R. Andrews, interrupted quietly. "We know who she is, Agent Roberts. Just as soon as we have determined the nature of the situation, we'll brief you. You'll be far more valuable down here in terms of coordinating the extraction and containing communications than you would be up there."

Cam studied the warm green eyes that looked steadily into hers. Andrews, her collar-length chestnut hair worn in casual layers, appeared to be in her early thirties. She was about Blair's size, but more muscular—a rower or a serious lifter, possibly. Her insignia indicated Army Medical Corps. There was an intensity in her expression that said she understood the source of Cam's concern. Cam nodded. "I want a report on all of them, ASAP."

"You'll have it," Andrews said.

Silently, Cam watched as the three zipped up their suits, pulled on the protective hoods, and adjusted their goggles and gas masks. The NYPD HAZMAT team and Landers's security forces had cordoned off a path to the front door, and the team from Fort Derrick lumbered into the building and disappeared, leaving her to wait.

*

Blair stood just behind Stark as she pulled open the apartment door. The sight that greeted them was like a scene in a science-fiction movie. Three people in space suits, gender indeterminate, stood in the foyer carrying oversized tackle boxes. Clearly, whatever they think is in here is something seriously dangerous,

"Please step back," a male voice said through a microphone. "Move to your left and remain stationary."

"Who are you?" Blair asked, backing up slowly as the three entered in single file.

"I'm Colonel Grau," the first figure informed her, advancing relentlessly, "and these are Captains Andrews and Demetri."

A female voice then said, "Please come with me, Ms. Powell," as the smallest figure stepped away from the triumvirate. "You too, Agent Stark. Follow me to the bathroom, please."

Blair realized, as she and Stark fell in behind the shrouded form, that she shouldn't be surprised that these people knew the layout of her loft. They undoubtedly knew her bra size and every other intimate detail of her life. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the male Secret Service agent being led toward the guest bathroom by the third team member. She stopped walking when she saw Colonel Grau opening his equipment box where her canvases were stored. "I want to see what he's doing."

Captain Andrews caught Blair's wrist in a thickly gloved hand. "I'm sorry, Ms. Powell, but that won't be possible."

Blair's response was immediate and instinctual. She'd been held incommunicado for several hours. She had no idea how grave the threat was, and she was angry and frightened. She couldn't see her lover, her life had once more been invaded, and now her last refuge was destroyed. Swiftly, she broke the restraining grip with a move she had practiced countless times in the dojo and in the training ring.

Captain Andrews did not try to stop her, but only said, "Are those paintings worth your life?"

The only thing Blair saw as she stopped her abrupt charge toward Colonel Grau, who had just cut a postage-stamp-sized piece of canvas from the center of a completed painting and dropped it into a test tube, was Cam's face. The only thing more important to her than her work, her freedom, and even her life, was Cam. If she had the choice, she would never do anything to hurt her. She wouldn't risk her life if it meant Cam would be the one to pay the price. She turned her back on what Grau was doing.

"I want to talk to Agent Roberts," Blair said.

"I know," Captain Andrews said. "Just as soon as possible."

Despite the flat, mechanical sound of her projected voice, Blair thought she detected a note of sympathy. For some reason, she believed her and didn't argue. Silently, she followed her into the bathroom.

The master bath, done in pale gold tiles and granite surrounds, was just off her bedroom. It contained a six-by-four-foot shower stall with two showerheads on facing walls in addition to the other standard features. There was room enough for the three of them to stand comfortably without crowding. Captain Andrews closed the door and knelt to remove a large red plastic biohazard bag from her equipment box. She straightened laboriously in her heavy protective suit and held it out to Stark and Blair. "Would you both please remove all of your clothing and place them in this bag."

While Blair and Stark disrobed, the officer opened the shower door, knelt once again, and proficiently removed the drain cover with a small screwdriver. Then she inserted what appeared to be a water filter in its'place.

"What is that?" Blair asked as she crammed her clothing into the red bag. She averted her gaze from Stark, who stood stiffly beside her. Blair knew how embarrassed she must be. It wasn't her own nudity that bothered her so. much, but the loss of control that accompanied it. Nevertheless, she was determined not to become a passive player in this drama. "Captain?"

"It's a biofilter."

"What exactly do you suspect that we have on us?"

Captain Andrews faced Blair, her eyes unwavering behind the thick polyurethane of her protective goggles. "We don't know, Ms. Powell. But at the moment, we must assume that you have been contaminated with an active biological agent. Until we have determined otherwise, you must be treated as if you are infected."

Infected. Not a chemical agent. Something alive. The thought of something invading her body was strangely more terrifying than the possibility of having been poisoned. Blair drew a slow breath, needing the extra few seconds to force down the surge of panic. "How long before you know?"

"I can't say. Would you please step into the shower now?"

Chapter Seventeen

B lair kept her back turned to Stark as the hot water sluiced over her. Although the shower was more spacious than an ordinary stall, if she moved back an inch, her ass would be rubbing up against Stark's. Government efficiency. Jesus.

Methodically, she scrubbed her skin with the soft plastic brush and cleansing agent that Captain Andrews had provided, trying not to think about what might already have penetrated the fragile barrier and could even now be coursing through her bloodstream. The last time she'd taken a shower with anyone, it had been Cam. They'd made love while the curtain of water shimmered like a nearly tangible wall between them and all the forces that contrived to keep them apart. She focused on the memory of Cam's face as they joined—so fierce and tender—on the touch of her lover's knowing hands bringing her to orgasm, and on the sweet sound of their passion dancing on the falling water. The acrid scent of something oddly familiar drew her from her reverie.

"What is this stuff?" Blair asked. "Bleach?"

"Sodium hydrochlorite," Captain Andrews replied, opening two large foil packs and extracting synthetic mesh sheets slightly larger than bath towels. "Step down onto the mat and wrap this around you, please."

"Is that a fancy way of saying bleach?" Blair draped herself in the thin covering, discovering strategically placed Velcro tabs that allowed her to close it around her chest just above her breasts and at the waist.

"Yes."

"Well, that's a straight answer, at least."

Although the sheet reached almost to Blair's knees, the shape of her body was clearly outlined beneath it. She glanced once at Stark, similarly covered, noting the curve of her small breasts and strong thighs. Oh, poor Paula. This must he so hard for her. Blair indicated the thin white covering. "Tell me you have something else for us to wear."

"Yes, I do." Captain Andrews passed a surgical mask to each woman. "These hook behind your ears with the elastic str—"

"The clothes?" Blair asked pointedly, slipping on the mask.

"Once we exit the building, you'll be provided with temporary coveralls."

"And just where exactly are we going to change?" Stark asked.

"On the sidewalk."

*

Cam paced the sidewalk in front of Blair's building, alternately checking her watch and scanning the building's facade, as if she might at any moment be able to see through the brick and glass to her lover. She wheeled around when she heard the driver's radio crackle to life and hurried over to him. Stacy Landers reached him at the same time.

"What's the status, Lieutenant?" Landers asked.

"They're on their way down." He carried a stack of silver packs the size of small knapsacks to the zippered front of a white polyurethane enclosure that he had erected between the side doors of the black vehicle and the double glass doors of the building's lobby. The entire structure, resembling a long narrow tunnel, extended like an accordion from inside the vehicle and was supported by thin semicircular hoops at four-foot intervals. When he unzipped the flaps and folded them outward, he created a chute that led directly from the front door of the building to the car. Then he placed a stack of foil-wrapped packages on the plastic floor just inside the front opening.

From a few feet away, Cam observed everything warily. She could feel the dozens of eyes on her back as the first responders clustered behind the barriers that had been hastily erected to keep even the emergency personnel back from the immediate scene. "Environmental protection suits?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I want you to suit me up so I can go in the vehicle with them."

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the front door, his posture erect and alert. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't do that. Authorized personnel only."

She took one quick step forward before Landers caught her arm. Cam whipped her head around, a sharp retort on her lips.

"Just hold it together a little longer, Cam," Landers said in a low but forceful tone. "Let them secure the assets, and then we'll worry about access."

Assets. Packages. Targets.

Cam swore, but held her ground. Suddenly, the glass doors opened, and the three officers in protective suits exited in a cluster, each guiding a figure shrouded in white. Cam sought Blair's gaze above the surgical mask, and for one brief instant, they connected. Her lover's blue eyes, so clear and strong, called to her.

"Blair," Cam whispered.

And then she was gone.

Cam stood on the sidewalk, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life, while all around her, activity escalated. Landers ordered the HAZMAT team back into the building to complete decontamination procedures, while firemen were dispatched to secure the main water and electrical supplies. The perimeter that had been hastily erected around the square had traffic snarled for blocks in every direction. The wail of police sirens was a constant backdrop to her own clamoring thoughts. For the first time in her life, she couldn't formulate a plan. Someone had taken Blair, and that single devastating fact left her reeling. It didn't matter that those in charge were presumably friendly. She trusted no one and struggled to subdue the panic that ate at the edges of her reason.

"Cameron."

Cam glanced down at the manicured hand loosely holding her wrist. She recognized the slender fingers, the perfect oval nails, the practiced touch. She raised her eyes to Valerie's and saw that the CIA agent had a cell phone cradled against her ear. Valerie smiled faintly and nodded at her, and Cam's head cleared.

Where? Cam mouthed.

Valerie nodded again but said nothing, obviously still listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. Standing nearby, Felicia watched just as acutely, and the instant Valerie closed the phone, snapped, "Well? Do you have a location for us?"

"Walter Reed," Valerie announced,

"Let's go," Felicia said, starting toward the street.

"Wait a minute," Cam instructed. Both women looked at her in surprise as she removed her radio and clicked to a secure frequency. After a few seconds, she said, "This is Roberts. Are you in the loft? Okay, describe for me the location of the paintings.. .In what?.. .Which crate?.. .Okay, thanks."

She disconnected and turned to her team members. "The HAZMAT officer says the paintings came out of one of the crates labeled 9/6. That's the date of Blair's last show."

"Do you think the toxin was planted at the gallery opening?" Felicia asked, her face creased with concern.

"It's possible. Foster was there," Cam said grimly. "And the crates with the paintings that were sold that night are still there now, waiting to be inventoried and shipped."

"Oh my God," Valerie murmured. "Diane."

Felicia looked at her watch. "It's almost eleven. They'll be opening right about now."

Galvanized, Cam pointed to Blair's building. "Valerie, find Landers and have her dispatch another team to Diane's gallery. Felicia and I will head over there-—"

"No," Valerie said sharply. "I'm coming with you."

"Fine," Cam said, knowing there was no time to waste and that she would not be able to dissuade Valerie in any case. "Felicia, brief Landers."

"Got it, Commander."

*

The five-minute walk to where Cam had left her vehicle seemed to take an hour as they pushed and squeezed their way through the dense crowd. Once they were on their way, traffic forced Cam to drive at five miles an hour even when they were several blocks beyond the cordoned-off area.

"God," Valerie groaned, "I could walk there faster than this."

"It's unlikely that anyone will disturb those paintings," Cam observed, threading her car between two yellow cabs and earning irate oaths from both cabbies.

"Those bastards."

Cam glanced at Valerie, fairly certain that she hadn't meant the cab drivers. She could never remember hearing Valerie raise her voice before, let alone curse. She wondered if it was something more personal than the attacks earlier in the week that provoked her response. "Was Diane part of the plan?"

"God, no," Valerie answered quietly.

"But it wasn't an accident you were at the gallery opening." Cam glanced at her watch. It had only been eighteen minutes since they'd left Blair's building, but it felt like eighteen hours. And nothing she could do would get them to Diane's any faster. She doubted that even Landers's team could get there quickly, considering the state of traffic. "Did they tell you to establish a relationship with Blair's best friend?"

"Our orders are never as direct as that, and we often only get a clear picture of the greater plan after the operation has begun. Sometimes, not even then." Valerie stared ahead into the clogged Manhattan streets, her thoughts turned inward. "No. I was just as surprised as you were when I got the call to show up there."

"You hid it well."

"That's my job, don't forget," Valerie said in a slightly mocking tone.

"Are you really an art dealer?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

Much to Cam's surprise, she realized that her initial resentment at discovering she had been the victim of an elaborate deception had turned now to a curious form of respect. Valerie was, very much like Cam, bound by duty. Both answered the call without question, often at significant cost to themselves and those who loved them. It was difficult for Cam to remain angry when she herself carried much of the same guilt.

"When did they recruit you?"

Valerie smiled softly at Cam. "Even sooner than you. I was a senior in high school."

"Jesus."

"I was bright and idealistic, and I came from a long line of patriots. Both my parents were career Navy."

"Do they know?"

She shook her head sadly. "No. And my father died thinking that I had tossed over the guiding principles they had taught me in favor of an extravagant lifestyle."

"I'm sorry," Cam said, meaning it.

"Well, I could have taken a more traditional route, but," she shrugged and laughed, "there was something about the secrecy that appealed to me."

"No regrets?"

A beat of silence passed, then Valerie answered quietly, "Only one."

"If it makes a difference," Cam said, "I understand."

"That means more than you'll ever know."

Cam finally turned onto the street where Diane's gallery was located, swerved into an illegal parking place in front of a fire hydrant, and cut the engine. As they hurried up the street, she said, "I want you to get Diane and the rest of the employees out of the gallery. If they haven't moved the paintings, there is no reason at this point to believe any of them have been contaminated. You take Diane home while I wait for Landers's team to show up and secure the space."

"She might be more cooperative if you—"

"Someone needs to stay in Manhattan. We need the intelligence on what happened at Blair's. And we need to know if there's anything at the gallery. I'm leaving as soon as I can for Walter Reed."

"Then Felicia or Savard—"

Cam shook her head as she reached the front door to Diane's gallery. "No. I need them working on the attack on the Aerie. You're going to take the lead on the bioweapons end of things, at least until we find out where it's going."

Valerie had no further chance to argue, because as they stepped into the spacious gallery, which was divided at irregular intervals by half walls covered with paintings, Diane rose from behind a pedestal desk, a pen in one hand and a shocked expression on her face.

"Valerie?"

Cam hurried toward the back of the building where Diane stored artwork in a climate-controlled annex, while Valerie approached Diane.

"Are you here alone?" Valerie asked.

"What?" Diane shook her head, confused. "Why are you here? I don't understand what you're doing."

"I'll explain as soon as I can. I promise." Valerie took Diane's hand and held it gently. "Has anyone been here this morning? Employees or clients?"

"No. I.. .I don't officially open until noon today. I was just doing the books."

"What about earlier in the week?"

Again Diane indicated no. "I've been closed since the show."

"No one's been in since then?" Valerie leaned over the desk, her palms flat on the surface. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm certain. What's going on?"

Cam walked back into the room. "Looks to be all clear. The crates are there, and they all appear to be intact. If there's anything inside, it hasn't been disturbed."

"Good," Valerie said.

Cam's phone rang and she pulled it from her belt. "Roberts.. .All right, go ahead." As she listened, her jaw tightened. "I'm on my way there now. No, I need you with Felicia..." She stopped and took a long breath. "All right. I'll see you there." She closed the connection and looked at Valerie. "You and Felicia will stay here and work the computers and any sources you can. There was a similar incident yesterday in New Jersey."

"Was that Savard?" Valerie asked.

"Yes. She's heading to DC too."

"Of course she is."

Diane, still holding Valerie's hand, pulled on her arm sharply. "Will one of you please tell me what is going on here? Has something happened to Blair?"

Valerie squeezed her hand and then let go. "There's been an incident at Blair's." At Diane's quick gasp, she hastened to add, "She's not hurt. I'll explain after I take you home."

"And if I don't want to go home?" Diane looked from Cam to Valerie. "Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"I'm sorry, no," Valerie answered.

"I didn't think so." Diane turned stiffly away and gathered her purse and jacket. She crossed the gallery and walked outside without looking at either of the agents.

"Well," Valerie said quietly. "I'll see that she gets home."

"Stay there until I call you."

"Yes. Please let me know how Blair is doing."

Cam heard sirens approaching and felt some of the tightness in her chest ease. At that moment, she wasn't interested in national security or bioterrorism. All she wanted was to see Blair. And this time, no one was going to stop her.

Chapter Eighteen

T he hallways were brightly lit, eerily quiet, and totally empty. Captain Andrews led the way with Demetri following closely behind Blair and Stark, who walked side by side in silence. The rooms lining either side of the passageway were closed, their windowless doors un-numbered. The air carried a faint antiseptic smell. After a twenty-five minute ride to a small airstrip in Queens and another two hours in a helicopter, they'd landed on the rooftop of a building in the sprawling complex that housed Walter Reed Army Hospital. Blair didn't recognize their location and suspected it was a research wing, given the nature of their situation. She'd considered asking, and then realized that in all likelihood she wouldn't get an answer. The whine of the helicopter rotors had precluded any real conversation, even with the White House, other than a terse update and ETA in DC relayed via Grau to, Blair presumed, Lucinda. Now, however, she was besieged by a deep sense of unease. She had a terrible feeling that if she stepped behind one of those closed doors, she might never emerge. She made the one request she didn't think they'd be able to refuse.

"I want to talk to my father."

Beside her, Stark muttered amen under her breath.

Captain Andrews continued her brisk stride forward. "The president is fully aware of your location, Ms. Powell. As soon as we complete our tests, you'll be free to call him. We'll bring a phone to your room."

"My room?" Blair stopped abruptly, aware of Captain Demetri's breath on the back of her neck. "My room, as in I'm staying here?"

"Temporarily, yes." Captain Andrews turned to face them, her expression serious, but also sympathetic. "Until we have the results of our cultures and other analyses, it's best to keep you under observation."

"Observation." Blair glanced at Stark, who looked grim. "Do I look like I've suddenly lost my ability to reason, Agent Stark?"

Stark's eyes brightened, and her mask moved as if she were silently laughing. "No, ma'am. You look fine to me."

"I actually feel fine too," Blair observed musingly. She pointed at Captain Andrews. "For some reason, you seem to think that I'm incapable of appreciating what's going on here. I understand that for security reasons you didn't want me talking to my father earlier, but you and I will get along a lot better if you start giving me the facts right now. I don't even require complete sentences."

"My apologies, Ms. Powell," Captain Andrews said smoothly, giving no hint of annoyance. "It's just that I have other priorities right now. I'll be happy to explain as soon as we have you in an isolation room and have completed our tests."

Blair ignored the rush of apprehension at the term isolation room. She wanted information and couldn't allow herself to be sidetracked by fear. "Now that's more like it. What kind of tests?"