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CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

She had no reason to suspect that it was incendiary or explosive, especially since it had already been handled with no particular regard for caution by the security guard. She lifted it by the corner. It was light, and she suspected that it held photographs or documents of some kind.

"Should I call for a bomb squad?" the guard asked, his voice high with tension.

"No. Thanks. I've got it."

Clearly stunned by the rapid evacuation of the remarkably familiar-appearing blond and just as taken aback by 17 B's commanding attitude, he merely nodded and said, "Yes, ma'am."

She flashed him a wave as she walked out the door. Once outside, she began walking north and radioed Mac a location to pick her up. A few minutes later, the lead Suburban, Stark at the wheel, appeared and pulled up beside her.

Once settled in the back with Blair across from her, she leaned forward and said through the privacy partition, “All clear for the airport, Stark. Nice execution, by the way."

When she turned back, she was nearly pinned to seat by the fire shooting from Blair's blue eyes.

"Was that really necessary?" Blair demanded.

"I could hardly let you stand there if there was any possibility that someone had delivered a volatile package," Cam said reasonably.

"Oh, but it's okay if you get blown into a few million pieces?" Blair asked, biting off each word as she fisted her hands by her sides to stop the trembling.

"There was very little chance of that, considering that the guard had already handled it... unless someone was watching for me to pick it up and triggered the device with a remote detonator. It was very unlikely that it could be harmful."

"But you were careful enough to get me out of the building."

"Of course," Cam said with a hint of genuine confusion in her voice. "Even the slightest risk to you is unacceptable."

"You don't have any idea what this does to me, do you?" Blair said incredulously.

"It was just routine, Blair," Cam began. "I..."

"Do you have any idea how I felt watching you get hit that day?" Blair said in a low, tormented voice as if Cam hadn't spoken. Almost as if Cam was no longer there. "Do you know what that did to me to see you lying on the sidewalk, blood pouring from your chest, knowing you were dying? Knowing I couldn’t touch you...couldn't stop it? That I was losing you, too?"

Cam's face drained of color. Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, “Yes. I know."

Stunned by the transformation in her usually imperturbable lover, Blair suddenly realized what she had said, and she knew, too, that Cam had experienced almost the same thing the day her lover had died. "Jesus, Cameron, I'm sorry. I didn't think."

Cam held up her hand. "No. It's all right." She cleared her throat, chased the demons away. "I never realized...I'm sorry. I would never want you to go through that again."



"I can't seem to get used to you putting me first," Blair said, leaning forward, her fingers touching Cam’s hand. "Not just physically...all of it. It will take a little practice."

"I don't put you first just because of the job, Blair," Cam said emphatically. "I do it because I love you, and I know that if the situation called for it, you'd do the same."

Blair nodded, knowing Cam was right. It wasn't so much about who protected whom, but much more about the urgency they both felt to keep the other safe. She would die before she let anyone harm Cam.

"Just don't get hurt, OK?" Blair said, her voice breaking.

"I won't. I promise."

As the vehicles turned off the road into the airport, they smiled at each other, peace following in the wake of trust.

 

Once on the plane, after everyone was situated, Blair asked Cam, "Are you going to open that envelope?"

Cam regarded the still unopened package and shook her head. "Not yet. There may be some kind of forensic evidence on the contents. I'd like to open it somewhere where it can be examined properly."

"Do you know of someone you can trust to do that for you?"

"Maybe. Savard has been helping out." At Blair's raised eyebrow, she clarified, "Stark’s suggestion. And a good one. I'll call her when we get to New York City."

"I want to be there."

Cam's first reaction was to say no, and then she realized that she couldn't. It was likely that whatever was inside had something to do with her or Blair or both of them, and she had promised Blair that she would not shut her out. She didn't like it, because her instinct was to keep Blair far away from anything that might potentially endanger her—emotionally or physically. But they had gone too far for that now. "All right."

Pleased, Blair rested her fingers on Cam's thigh. "Thank you."

 

It was early evening by the time they landed in New York and made the trek into Manhattan to Blair's apartment. As they disembarked in front of the building, Cam said to Stark, "Would you mind staying a few moments, Agent?"

Stark, who was technically off-shift, and who had already worked twenty-four hours overtime with the unexpected trip to D.C, and who had missed her date with Savard in the bargain, said immediately, "No problem. I'll be in the command center."

"Very good."

The agents sorted themselves out, some proceeding upstairs with Stark for the evening shift and others signing out for the night. Alone, Cam and Blair took the keyed elevator to Blair's apartment.

Once inside, Cam said, "I need to give Mac a call and see if he's turned up anything."

Blair dropped her overnight bag inside the door. "Are you hungry? I can fix us something."

Cam shed her jacket but kept her shoulder harness on over her blended-silk dress shirt. "That would be great. I'll give you a hand in a minute."

Smiling, Blair shook her head. "Just do what you need to do."

Cam settled into one of the fabric sling chairs which, along with the sofa, defined the loft’s central living area and picked up the phone. She dialed and after a minute said, "It's Roberts. Where are you…? Turn up anything... Do you have the tapes…? Okay, fine. Call me when you get in."

Sighing, she replaced the receiver and came around the breakfast bar into the kitchen where Blair was slicing mushrooms on a cutting board. A pot of water boiled on the cook top to her right.

"Can I do something?"

"Plates. What did he say?" Blair asked as she rinsed several tomatoes under the faucet and then cubed them.

"The security guard didn't have much more to offer than what he'd already told me. The package was dropped off at 7:52 this morning."

"Huh...just before my father arrived. Does that mean anything?"

"I don't know. I doubt it."

"What did he say about the courier?"

"He doesn't remember anything in particular except that it was a woman...Caucasian, medium height, twenty-five, maybe thirty. Mac has the tapes and is bringing them back here. We'll compare them to the surveillance tapes we have from downstairs when the first envelope was delivered here yesterday."

"A woman delivered it?" Blair inquired in surprise. “Both times?”

“Apparently.” Cam shrugged. "That probably doesn't mean anything either. Half the couriers are women these days. Besides, it's doubtful that whoever is behind this would deliver it in person. But we have to check it out."

"I suppose you’re right," Blair said contemplatively as she placed a handful of pasta in the boiling water.

"What?" Cam asked, noting Blair's expression.

"It's probably nothing."

"What is it? At this point, we can't afford to overlook anything."

"I thought it was really funny when I called my friend AJ to get your home address last night. She was very reluctant to give it to me."

"AJ? Who's she?"

"An FBI agent stationed at Bureau headquarters in D.C. She's an information specialist."

"And she's been feeding you classified information?" Cam exclaimed incredulously. "Holy Christ. She could lose her job for that...or worse."

"She's discreet, and I don't ask her for much. We're old friends from prep school."

"I never realized you had such a network of insiders," Cam said appreciatively. That explains a lot about how she's been able to keep such a low profile about her private life all these years. She's had help keeping the information under wraps.

It was Blair's turn to shrug. Then she grinned sheepishly. "I've had a long time to acquire them.”

"So," Cam continued, "you think your friend has something to do with this? How well do you know her?"

Blair smiled enigmatically.

“Ah ha,” Cam said, arching an eyebrow. “Recently?”

There was just a touch of heat in her voice.

Blair laughed. “Not what you’re thinking, surprisingly enough. I covered for her a few times when she was out all night on a date, back when the schools actually tried to keep track of such things. She’s the daughter of a Senator—one who gave my father a run for his money in the primaries, actually. We have a lot in common.”

“And you trust her?”

“Absolutely.”

“Enough to tell her about this?”

Blair hesitated as she dished out pasta and sautéed vegetables. “Yesterday morning I would have said yes. Last night she sounded…odd. Like she wanted to say something, but didn’t.”

“Or couldn’t,” Cam countered.

They carried the plates to the breakfast bar and sat side by side.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you talk to her at work?”

“Yes. But I was circumspect. I didn’t use your name.”

“Still,” Cam said around bites, “she has to know everything going in and out of there is taped. And besides, maybe she’s more loyal to the Bureau than to you, especially if she thinks I’m dirty. Remember, she doesn’t know me at all.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Blair said softly. The thought of anyone, but especially a friend, thinking that about Cam bothered her. She was at once angry and saddened. Unconsciously, she dropped her hand onto Cam’s thigh, stroking her softly. “Do you think I should try talking to her?”

"Not yet. Maybe we'll know more after we see what's in the newest delivery," Cam mused, covering Blair’s hand with hers. "As soon as we're done, I'm going to find out if Savard is available to walk us through the lab."

"Cam, it's almost 8:00. Do you really think she'll be able to do anything tonight?"

"The Bureau's open twenty-four hours a day. We can always ask."

 


Date: 2015-12-11; view: 644


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