CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The four of them had barely settled into the Suburban with Stark behind the wheel, when Cam's cell phone rang.

"Roberts."

She listened for a moment, then handed the phone to Savard. "It's Mac. Can you give him directions to your sister’s? He’s got some information for us and I want him to be there when we take a look at our latest present."

Nodding, Savard quickly gave Mac the information.

Fifteen minutes later, they were settling into the small but comfortable living room of an apartment in Chelsea. The furnishings were worn but had once been expensive, and the space beneath the windows and most other available niches were filled with plants of all description, adding a sense of warm welcome that was distinctly different than the impersonal apartments and hotel rooms most of them were used to spending their time in.

Cam noted with satisfaction a work area in a small alcove adjoining the living room that contained a desk, high end video equipment, and a state of the art computer system.

"You think we can use that to look at the tapes Mac has?" she asked, indicating the electronic array with a tilt of her head.

"Sure," Savard said, "as long as it's your paycheck guaranteeing against any damage."

Cam smiled. "I'll put it in writing."

Rene walked through to a tiny kitchen and called over her shoulder, "What does everyone want to drink?"

As they were chorusing their answers, the buzzer rang and Stark crossed to the door and pushed the intercom. "Hello?"

"Phillips, here."

"Three C," Stark reminded him as she held down the button, releasing the security lock on the front door.

A moment later, she opened the door for Mac and, after greetings all around, they found seats on the sofa facing the small coffee table and a grouping of nearby chairs.

"I guess I'll go first," Cam said grimly from where she sat on the sofa next to Blair.

Savard had cleared a space in the center of the coffee table and as everyone leaned nearer, she reached into the manila envelope. There were two glossy sheets which Cam separated and placed on the table for all to see. Everyone shifted so they could look at the images from the proper perspective.

The first required little in the way of comment. Both had again been taken from a distance, but the first, shot in broad daylight, was of good quality and both her face and Blair's were clearly recognizable. So was the fact that their hands were linked as they leaned into one another in what could only be interpreted as an intimate moment.

"How the hell..." Stark exploded.

"That's the deck at the rear of my mother's house," Cam said, for Savard's elucidation. "The rest of you recognize the location, I presume. It was taken at approximately 0800 hours the last day of Ms. Powell's stay in San Francisco."

"I wonder where they were?" Blair murmured, a cold chill making her shiver. It wasn't so much that someone had been watching; it wasn't even that she and Cam had been captured in a private moment...a moment that she remembered very well.

"I'll be sorry to leave here," Blair said quietly.

Cam moved her left hand along the rail until it covered Blair's right. Their shoulders were nearly touching, but only someone on the deck with them could have seen the movement. Automatically, their fingers entwined, thumbs brushing over the tops of each other's hand.

"Yes, so will I. I've been here before, but it takes being here with you to make me realize how beautiful it is. Being with you makes the entire world look different."

For a moment, Blair was speechless. It was one of those times when Cam took her completely by surprise, and it was just the way she had always imagined that being in love would feel. She had just never imagined she would ever feel it herself. "We don't have to leave that feeling here, do we?"

Cam met her gaze again, marveling at the myriad shades of blue that moved in the depths of her lover's eyes. "No. We don't. Let's make sure we don't."

It was a moment that she would never want to forget. What bothered her was that someone else has been silent witness to something that was beautiful and now they were trying to turn into something ugly.

"Anywhere," Cam side flatly. "A nearby rooftop, an apartment on an adjoining street, up a goddamned tree...anywhere with the sightline. If I'd known then what we know now, I would have paid more attention to that avenue of access to you. I didn't anticipate a photographer stalking us." Unconsciously, she rubbed her temple, annoyed at the pain which was surging again.

Blair regarded her with concern. When this is over, Cam is taking a vacation.

"What about the other one?" Savard asked quietly. "Do you know her?"

Savard's eyes were on Blair, who was staring at the photo. It was grainy, and of poorer quality than the one taken in San Francisco, but the faces of the two women who stood in the circle of light cast by a street lamp in front of Cam's apartment building in Washington, D.C. were quite clear.

"No, not precisely," Blair said evenly.

No one spoke, nor asked for further explanation. Despite the unusual circumstances, their training ruled. Federal agents did not question the private life of the first daughter.

"I think Ms. Powell and I need to speak alone for a few minutes," Cam said into the silence.

As everyone began to rise, Blair said, "No, stay." Glancing at Cam, she smiled wryly. "They're all in it now, and I have nothing to hide."

Cam sighed and studied the faces of the three agents sitting shoulder to shoulder across from her.

"I don't know where all this is going. Maybe nowhere." She lifted the photos and let them fall back to the table. "Maybe straight to the AP hotline and the front page of every newspaper in the country."

She had everyone's attention.

"I know this woman," Cam said, pointing to Claire in the photograph. "She's an escort with a highly exclusive service in D.C. She and Ms. Powell have no relationship whatsoever."

"That might be difficult to disprove after this,” Stark pointed out in as non-accusatory a tone as she could manage.

Blair laughed shortly. "I'm certain that's precisely what this is meant to imply."

"Well," Cam said bitterly. "It seems that someone is tightening the noose. First we have a leak to the press about Blair's secret relationship. Then, obviously, we have documentation of the two of us together in a position that would be hard to explain away." She glanced quickly at Blair. "Even if we wanted to. And now," she finished, pointing to the photo of Blair and Claire, "we have the connection between myself, Ms. Powell, and an escort service. All highly inflammatory business in D.C."

"I'm sorry," Stark said ingenuously. "What link is there between you and the escort?"

"I know this woman in the photograph because I've been involved with her, professionally."

"Oh." Stark blushed but held Cam's gaze. "Can anyone prove that?"

Shrugging, Cam replied, "I have no idea."

"Well," Mac said briskly. "That's one of the things we're going to have to find out. And from the looks of things, pretty quickly."

"I agree," Savard said firmly. "We need to devise strategy, divide up the work, and narrow down the suspects in short order...before this whole thing spins out of control."

"Suspects?" Blair said in surprise.

"Yes," Cam said, looking at Savard. She and the FBI agent were the only two people in the room with true investigative experience. Stark and Mac had both been part of the protective arm of the Secret Service their entire careers. "Who stands to gain by this?"

"Well, as you mentioned before," Blair mused. "Any reporter who uncovers an elite escort service in Washington D.C. that caters to government employees and visiting dignitaries would certainly garner quite a reputation. It's a career maker and reason enough."

"That’s true," Mac said. "Except it seems unlikely that a reporter would also be interested in impugning your reputation. That would only piss off the White House. So why release the photo of you and the Commander to the newspaper before the story breaks? In fact, why involve you at all?"

"Point taken," Blair agreed.

"What about Patrick Doyle?" Stark offered, carefully not looking at Renee Savard. "He hasn't been happy since the Commander upstaged him in the capture of Loverboy..."

"Before that, really," Mac interjected. "He's always had it in for her."

Stark nodded eagerly. "If he's behind it, that would explain a photograph of the Commander with the woman in the bar. She could have been an FBI agent or just a decoy he set up. We all know the FBI has been known to shadow public figures to gather information on them."

"I don't disagree with any of that," Savard said calmly. "But this looks like a much bigger operation than one man could possibly orchestrate. Especially if you're talking about infiltrating and exposing a very well-shielded escort service that's obviously been operating undetected for a long time. That takes undercover agents and people with computer expertise who can access IRS records, phone records, trace calls...the whole nine yards. Doyle couldn't do that on his own."

"Besides," Blair pointed out, "none of this explains why we are getting these cryptic messages. If they were threats, why hasn't something been demanded? Why hasn't someone asked for money or threatened to go public if Cam doesn't resign or put pressure on me to intervene with my father about some upcoming vote?"

"Maybe," Cam muttered, "maybe it's a little of all of the above."

Four sets of eyes stared at her questioningly.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Cam thought aloud. "Maybe there is a political and a personal agenda at work here. Maybe the FBI or a Justice division or both is gathering information for some future political purpose. Maybe Doyle is part of it or knows someone who is. If he's privy to what's going on, he may have discovered my involvement with the escort service by chance. Maybe he's taking advantage of that knowledge."

"How?" Mac asked warily.

Cam met his eyes. "Stewart Carlisle informed me yesterday that Justice has initiated an independent investigation into what happened in New York. They're looking at me, specifically. I could be suspended at any time."

Mac and Stark exploded together with a series of expletives and outraged remonstrations. At length, Cam held up her hand to still them.

"For some reason, Carlisle hasn't put up much of a roadblock, which I find unusual. All I can figure is if there is a large-scale operation in place to exert influence using blackmail tactics, maybe he's in a crunch, too."

"Can something like that really be happening?" Blair asked incredulously. "We're not talking about the Hoover administration here."

"It didn't all stop in the mid-70s when Hoover was forced to retire," Savard said regretfully. "It's just gotten more subterranean. It's been rumored for some time that the new Director...whose appointment your father opposed, I might add...has been pushing Justice hard for permission to use surveillance in the private sector, including electronic wiretaps and computer investigation into corporate and private accounts, ostensibly under the guise of national security."

"All right," Blair interjected. "So if there is some covert group of high-level intelligence agents, or politicians, or both gathering information, what would be the reason?"

"Almost anything," Cam said grimly. "Anything from controlling promotions within various departments to influencing who will be the next party nomination for president. That's what's so dangerous about these operations. Information gathered today might be used a decade from now to force someone's vote in a critical Congressional decision or be used to place a candidate sympathetic to law enforcement in a newly created cabinet position. When, where, and how intelligence is used can't always be projected...which makes it impossible to neutralize. That's also what makes it so potent a weapon."

"For the time being," Savard said emphatically, "we need to concentrate on discovering as much as possible about who's behind this." She stared at the opposite wall for a second and then began ticking off points on one hand. "Mac...you've already been looking into the reporter who provided the first photograph to the Associated Press, right?"

He nodded. "I should have a name by morning."

"Good. What we need is to work backwards from there. The reporter needs to be interviewed and if they won’t provide a source, we need to dig deep into his or her background. There has to be a connection to someone in D.C. Whoever leaked the photograph almost certainly used someone they knew and trusted."

"Fine. I've got that," Mac said. "I've also got the video tapes of the couriers who delivered the packages. I'll run their scanned images through the DMV, NCIC, and Armed Forces data banks. If I can ID them, I'll interview them."

"Try for a match with the registered courier services in New York and D.C., too," Cam added. "They have to be bonded, so they'll have photos. I doubt our Deep Throat used a service, but you never know."

Mac nodded.

"Two...Stark and I will run background checks on everyone associated with you, Commander," Savard said evenly. "We'll need a list of friends, lovers, professional associates...anyone who could be remotely connected."

At Cam's raised eyebrows, Savard continued, "We have to assume that if there is a personal agenda in addition to a political one, you are the epicenter."

"All right, Savard. You'll get the list."

"We'll need the name of the woman in the photograph, too," Stark said evenly.

Cam shook her head. "I don't know it."

Everyone, including Blair, looked at her in surprise.

"The service was highly discreet and took extensive precautions to provide anonymity to both clients and personnel."

"I suppose if we have to, we could run this photo through the national databanks, too," Stark offered.

"She's not involved," Cam said with certainty. "And I'd like to keep her out of it if at all possible."

"Understood," Savard said briskly. "On the other hand, it might become necessary."

"If it does," Cam said thoughtfully, "there's a wine glass in my dishwasher in D.C. that will have her fingerprints on it."

Cam glanced sideways at Blair, concerned about her response to that fact, but Blair just smiled faintly and shook her head. Cam grinned fleetingly, then turned her attention back to Savard.

"Well then," Savard said with satisfaction. "If we need it, we'll go get it. For now, I’ll settle for the numbers you used to contact her, and how you identified yourself."

“Done.” Cam hesitated. "There's one other thing that needs to be done. We need to run background checks on everyone in Ms. Powell’s security detail. There may be an association with a political figure or a previous intelligence assignment that ties in with this."

"It can't be one of us," Mac exclaimed. "What would be the point? The Secret Service exists to protect the lives, and by extension, the reputations of public figures...not destroy them."

Cam shrugged. "Maybe one of us is doing double duty and working for the FBI or a Justice department probe."

"That would be unbelievable," Stark said vehemently.

"People are known to do many things for career advancement," Cam pointed out. "It has to be done, but it’s not fair to put you two on that. I'll do it myself."

Both Mac and Stark nodded glumly.

"The last thing we need is a computer cracker," Savard said. "We need to get into the FBI and Justice files. And we’ll need to break the escort ring, too."

Everyone in the room looked at each other.

"Well, none of us qualifies," Cam remarked.

"Felicia does," Mac said quietly.

"No way," Cam said stridently. "I've already involved too many people. Plus, she's new to the group and we don't know her well enough yet."

"I know her," Mack said firmly. "I'll vouch for her, Commander."

Cam studied him seriously for a moment, then shook her head again. "I just can't do it, Mac. I've already endangered all of you by involving you in this operation. I can't bring in anyone else, because I can't offer any kind of protection."

"What if she volunteers?" Mac persisted.

"Besides," Stark pointed out reasonably. "If somebody brings you down, it's going to taint all of us...and we'll all be out of a job anyhow."

"I have to agree with both of them, Commander," Savard said. "If we can't get into the files, we're never going to get a complete picture of how deep this goes and who might be behind it. If we don't use our own internal resources, we'll have to go out on a limb and involve an outsider. That's even more dangerous than using someone we've only known for a short time." She paused, then added more softly, "I don't think anyone here doubts that Felicia can be trusted."

Cam rubbed her face with both hands. "It sounds like I'm out-voted, then."

Blair moved a little closer to Cam on the sofa and rested her hand on Cam's knee. "You don't have to worry, Commander. It won't happen very often."

Everyone laughed, and for the first time in more than a week, Cam's headache completely vanished.

"Well," Cam said, surveying her friends and colleagues. "It looks like we've got our work cut out for us. We're running against the clock, only I don't know how much time we have—not much, I’m sure. What we do know is that Ms. Powell is due to go abroad in a little over three days. I don't want this to follow her to Paris."

"Felicia may be the key," Mac said. "The files are the only thing that will give us hard evidence...unless we can find a primary witness."

"Maybe Deep Throat?" Blair asked hopefully.

"Possible," Stark commented. "Except he...or she...clearly doesn't want to be found. If they're friendly, and I tend to agree that's the most likely scenario, for some reason they're afraid to approach you directly. It's not going to be easy to draw them out."

"I'll brief Davis personally in the morning," Cam said, unable to hide her bone-deep weariness. "But, I'm going to urge her not to do this. She's at the most risk. If she can crack their computers, someone on the other end can no doubt can track her back here."

"I don't think so, Commander," Mac said with certainty and an unexpected note of pride. "She was assigned to go after Loverboy because she's one of the best computer hackers in the world. I have a feeling she knows how to cover her tracks when she's breaking in someone's back door."

"Let's hope so," Cam rejoined, still unhappy about involving yet another agent. "We'll see after I've talked with her."

"I'm going to see her tonight," Mac offered quickly. "With your permission, Commander, I can brief her. It will save time."

"Whoa, Mac," Savard jibed, her blue eyes twinkling. "Fast worker."

He blushed, but his grin was pleased. "Not that fast...she said no the first six times I asked her out." He cleared his throat, suddenly serious. "Commander?"

Cam glanced at the faces of those around her and knew the decision had already been made. Sighing, she shrugged. "Go ahead, Mac. Bring her up to date on everything we've got so far."

Mac gathered his briefcase and placed the envelope with the photographs inside along with the surveillance tapes. "I'll speak with you in the morning then, Commander."

"Let's plan on a noon meeting for updates all around." She glanced at Blair. "Is it all right if we meet in the Aerie?"

"Of course," Blair said.

"Let's everyone try to get some down time then," Cam suggested as she waved good night to Mac. Turning to Blair's primary guard, she asked, "Ready to go, Stark?"

Stark hesitated, glancing quickly at Savard. Before she could speak, Blair interrupted.

"I thought I'd spend the evening at Diane's, Cam. You can take me there, can't you?"

"Of course. Stark, you're officially off duty now anyhow. I'll call the command center and have someone meet us downstairs and escort Ms. Powell to her destination."

"Don't bother, Commander," Stark said without a second's hesitation. "I can accompany her."

Cam sensed rather than saw Savard stiffen, and the fog cleared enough from her exhausted brain to register Blair's small sigh of disapproval, too.

"That's all right, Agent," Cam said, already pulling the cell phone from her belt. "Take what's rest of the night off. My orders."

After Cam arranged for the night detail to meet them with the second vehicle downstairs, they said goodnight to Stark and Savard and left.

"I can't believe you just volunteered to work another night. What is that—three in a row?" Savard asked with a threatening tone in her voice. "Getting stood up two nights straight would seriously bruise my ego."

"Well, it's kind of a tricky situation since the Commander and Egret are trying not to be too obvious about spending time alone together," Stark began seriously. "It's easier if I ..."

"Paula, shut up."

Then Savard effectively implemented the order by pressing her mouth to Stark's. Surprise turned to a soft moan as Savard's tongue moved gently over Stark's. When the kiss ended, Stark drew a shaky breath.

"That was awfully nice," she said, her breath catching a little on the words.

Savard rested her palm against Stark's cheek, gently brushing the dark hair back from her temple with her fingertips. "Yes, it was. And there's a lot more where that came from."

"There's no quota or anything is there?" Stark inquired as she intertwined her fingers with Savard's.

"None at all.” Savard’s voice was husky and low. "In fact, I believe there's an endless supply."

"I want to make love with you so much," Stark confessed, her body vibrating with urgency. "I've wanted to for what feels like forever."

The simplicity of her statement struck Savard harder than a blow. Sharply, she drew in a breath, her blood suddenly racing. "I can't wait."

Stark stepped close and slipped one arm around her waist. Just before she kissed her, she whispered, "Then let's not."

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Cam leaned forward to relay instructions to Foster, who was at the wheel, then settled back in the rear of the Suburban with a sigh. Rubbing her temple absently, she said, "I ought to be able to run the first level background checks tonight."

"Cam," Blair said sharply, “you’re about ready to fall down. You need some sleep."

"I'm okay." Cam smiled and consciously straightened her shoulders, shaking her head to clear her mind. "I can nap between..."

"I want you to stay at Diane's with me tonight." Blair's voice was calm and quiet, but there was a finality in the way she spoke that suggested she was not going to yield.

Cam was silent, considering her choices. It wouldn't be the first time that she and Blair had spent hours, even entire nights, together at some place other than Blair's apartment. Their being alone didn't necessarily imply that they were involved personally...and at this point, it seemed moot what anyone thought about their relationship. In truth, she was too tired to make a good decision, and she wanted to be with Blair. "All right."

"Good." Cam's easy assent only confirmed Blair's suspicions that her lover was teetering on the brink of exhaustion. She had expected more of a fight, but she was happy to have avoided it. She too was emotionally and physically drained, and all she really wanted to do was see that Cam got some rest.

Fifteen minutes later, she and Cam stood outside Diane Bleecker's apartment door. When it opened, Diane lazily raised one eyebrow as she leaned against the doorjamb in a burgundy dressing down, looking like a siren from a 1940's movie. "Good evening."

"Hi," Blair said, taking Cam's hand as she leaned forward to kiss Diane on the cheek. "You have houseguests for the night."

"Goodie. I love a pajama party," Diane said as she stepped aside to allow them entrance, her sharp eyes taking in the Secret Service agent's pale complexion and slightly unsteady step.

"No," Blair threw back over her shoulder, leading Cam determinedly across the living room. "We're going directly to bed."

"Well, you're certainly no fun," Diane said with an exaggerated frown. Her tone was gentle, however, when she added, "Do you need anything?"

"No, we're all right. We just needed to escape for awhile."

Diane settled on the sofa as her friend and her lover disappeared around the corner in the direction of the guest room.

What you both need is a few weeks alone together...away from the news people and the White House both.

She sighed as she picked up a magazine, knowing her wish was unlikely to come true.

"I should shower," Cam said as she eased out of her jacket and started to shrug the leather weapon harness off her shoulders.

"You're fine," Blair countered as she moved to her side and lifted the holster free, then placed it over a nearby chair. The guest room was large enough for a queen sized bed, a small dressing table with mirrors, several chairs and an adjoining bathroom. The single window was open and the curtains moved desultorily in the weak summer breeze. “Just come to bed.”

Stubbornly, Cam shook her head. “It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to lie naked next to you until I’ve had a shower.”

“Well, I definitely want you naked,” Blair conceded. Reaching for Cam’s hand once again, she turned toward the bathroom and said, “Come on then, Commander.”

A few minutes later they stood together beneath the warm spray, almost too tired to talk. Cam leaned forward with both palms against the wall in front of her while the water hit her head and neck. She almost groaned aloud as Blair began to soap her shoulders and back.

“God, that feels criminally good.”

“Turn around,” Blair said softly. When Cam complied, Blair smoothed her hands, soft with suds, over Cam’s chest and abdomen.

“Starting to feel human?” Blair questioned softly, sensing Cam relaxing beneath her touch. At another time, the sight of Cam nude with her head thrown back, eyes closed, vulnerable in a way that she seemed with no one else, would have made Blair surge with desire. Tonight, being able to take care of her was satisfying in a way she had barely imagined. The responsibility of loving her was wonderful and terrifying at the same time. Suddenly, she slid her arms around Cam’s waist and pressed against her, the white froth on Cam’s body coating her own.

“What’s this?” Cam murmured, feeling Blair tremble.

“Nothing. I just love you.”

Cam smiled and rested her cheek against Blair’s. “It feels good when you do.”

“Yes,” Blair whispered almost to herself.

Five minutes later they crawled between crisp clean sheets and embraced, face to face. Cam kissed the tip of Blair’s nose and sighed.

“For the record, I want to make love,” Cam murmured.

“But?” Blair asked teasingly, settling her head on Cam’s shoulder as she stroked her chest, finally gently cradling a breast in one palm.

“I’m too damned tired.”

“Well,” Blair said as her lids began to close. “There’s always tomorrow.”

The last thing Cam did before she surrendered to sleep was to hope that would always be true.

"Good morning," Diane said, surprise apparent in her tone as Cam walked into the kitchen a little after 7:00 the next morning. "I didn't expect to see you up so early. In fact, I expected you to sleep for a week."

"I smelled the coffee." Cam grinned, nodding toward the coffee maker on the counter.

"Ah," Diane said with a smile, lifting her own cup to her lips. She was in the burgundy dressing gown again, but this time she was obviously nude beneath it. The plunging neckline bared a nearly lethal expanse of creamy skin between her full breasts, and the curve of her hip and thigh was tantalizingly outlined in shimmering silk.

Cam averted her gaze and asked, "Do you mind if I take some to Blair?"

"Not at all. In fact, I'd prefer it."

Cam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Diane smiled fondly. "She's beastly in the morning before coffee, or haven't you noticed?"

"I can't say as I have," Cam replied mildly as she moved to the counter and took down two cups from a glass-enclosed shelf above the sink.

"Very diplomatic, Commander," Diane said, her voice a low purr. "One could take that to mean that you've never seen her first thing in the morning, or that you've never found her to be cranky at that hour."

Cam turned, leaning her hip against the counter and regarded Diane solemnly. "I've seen her first thing in the morning, just not often."

"Something tells me that's going to change."

"I hope so."

Cam poured coffee, feeling Diane watching her. “Thanks," she said when she'd finished. "For the coffee, and for putting us up last night."

"She's my best friend, and I love her."

"I know, and I'm glad.” Briefly Cam wondered if those two things were related or if they were, in fact, separate statements. She had never asked Blair if she and Diane had been lovers, and she never would. It didn't matter because it didn't affect what was between her and Blair now. “She needs friends like you."

“Apparently what she needs most of all, Commander," Diane said emphatically, "is you."

"It's Cam. And if it makes you worry any less, I love her, too."

Diane smiled, and this time the smile was sensuous. Her voice dropped a register as she remarked throatily, "She's very fortunate."

"No. I am."

"Are things going to work out with this latest press brouhaha?" Diane asked suddenly.

Cam was used to keeping her reactions to herself, but the question surprised her. "You know about that?"

"Some. Blair told me about the photograph in the newspaper and the fact that she expects more publicity."

"I doubt that our relationship will remain a secret much longer."

"If I may be so bold... are you ready for that?"

"More than ready."

Diane saluted her with the coffee cup. "As I said, she's very lucky."

At that moment Blair shuffled into the kitchen, dressed only in a long T-shirt that came to mid thigh. She glanced from her lover to her best friend. "Who's lucky? Is that coffee?"

Cam laughed and held out the cup. "Here you go."

Blair frowned when she realized that Cam was barefoot in old clothes that Blair kept at Diane's for emergencies... tight threadbare jeans that didn't button at the top and a shirt that was missing buttons in decidedly dangerous places considering Diane's proximity. Crossing quickly to Cam's side, she took the cup and wrapped her free arm around her lover's waist. "What are you two talking about...or shouldn't I ask?"

Cam kissed her temple lightly and murmured, "Newspaper photographs."

Blair grimaced. "Oh, that. What else."

"Don't worry, love," Diane said lightly. "Once they've had their week of fun with you, they'll move on to something else. In six months, no one will care."

"In six months, my father is going to be in the middle of his reelection campaign. Someone is going to care."

"He can handle it," Cam said with certainty.

"I hope so," Blair said, almost to herself.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Five hours later, Cam, in a two piece charcoal suit and monochrome linen shirt, accompanied by Stark, Savard, Mac, and Felicia, knocked on Blair's door.

"Hi," Blair said when she stepped aside to admit them. For an instant, seeing Cam in her professional mode, she remembered how her lover had looked that morning, disheveled and still sleep-tossed, and she wanted to kiss her. Just because.

"Hi," Cam murmured as she passed, the fingers of her right hand brushing the length of Blair's bare forearm.

"There's coffee in the kitchen if anyone wants some," Blair called. "Just help yourself.

A few minutes later, everyone had settled in a loose circle around the low wide coffee table in the sitting area just to the right of the door. Cam sat on the couch next to Blair with Mac on her left. Felicia was next to him in one of the sling back chairs while Stark and Savard occupied a small loveseat on the other side of the table.

"I ran preliminaries on our team this morning," Cam said. "As we all expected, it was fairly nonproductive. I did turn up one interesting fact, however."

Beside her, she felt Mac stiffen and saw Stark's eyes widen with surprise, or alarm. Savard watched her intently. The only person in the room who seemed completely relaxed was Felicia Davis.

"It seems that Fielding was assigned as the FBI liaison in D.C three years ago. The Bureau field agent he worked with was Special Agent Patrick Doyle.

"Jesus," Stark exclaimed. "He never said anything about knowing Doyle."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean anything," Mac hastened to add. "It's not like they were old friends or anything. Considering what an asshole Doyle turned out to be, he probably wanted to downplay any relationship they might have had."

Reluctantly, Stark pointed out, “Fielding was with us in San Francisco. And he’d just gone off duty the night that Ms. Pow—Blair and the commander were photographed on the beach. He could have tipped someone to their location.”

“Yes,” Mac agreed grudgingly, “but there are plenty of other explanations for that photograph. The Bureau has agents there, and they’d most likely take pictures of anyone with no questions asked if a D.C SAC ordered them to.”

"At this point," Cam interjected before Mac and Stark ended up at odds, "I consider this only a coincidental association. It could be only a paper link...Fielding might never even have interfaced with Doyle in person. But it bears follow-up. Right now, we can't discount any potential connections." She had known her agents wouldn't like one of their own being looked at, and she didn't blame them. She would have been unhappy if they'd reacted otherwise. But it had to be done. "Savard? Can you run with it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. How about you two...any progress with my background check?" Cam asked, looking steadily at Stark and Savard.

Savard cleared her throat. "So far, Commander, you're in the clear. We looked at...ah...family members and the list of intimate contacts you provided."

To her credit, Savard neither blushed nor looked away. Then she added, "Other than your association with the escort service in D.C, we don't see anything that could potentially be an avenue for blackmail or future coercion."

"For now, we'll accept that as a dead end," Cam responded evenly. "If something turns up that does lead back to me, we'll look further."

"Yes, ma'am."

Turning to her communications director, Cam asked, "Mac?"

He grimaced, his frustration evident. "I’d hoped to have more. I finally backtracked the photograph in the Post of you and Blair through the AP's source files and came up with the name of a freelance reporter. Eric Mitchell out a Chicago."

"Name mean anything to anyone?" Cam asked of the room in general. Everyone shook their heads in the negative. She nodded. "Go ahead Mac."

He ran a hand through his blond hair and blew out of breath. "I wish I could. I talked to him an hour ago, and he's uncrackable. I don't think he'd give up a source if President Powell flew out there and confronted him in the news room. The only thing he would tell me is that it came to him via an anonymous email."

"I'm looking at that, Commander," Davis said quietly. “Newspapers aren’t particularly difficult to hack.”

Cam raised an eyebrow but made no comment. "You think there's any value in bracing him in person, Mac?"

Mac shook his head. "Believe me, Commander, I would fly out there this afternoon if I thought it would do any good. He's not going to give us anything."

"All right," Cam said with a sigh. "Anything in his background?"

"Nothing much, but I haven't looked too hard yet. I just came up with his name right before this meeting."

"Dig. There's got to be a reason that the source contacted him specifically. Find it."

"Roger that."

Finally, Cam looked to Felicia. "Any progress?"

Crossing one elegant calf over the other, Felicia Davis leaned forward, her hands loosely clasped in her lap. She was a stunning combination of composure and intensity. "I've just started, but I can tell you this...there is a concentrated exchange of e-mail and attached files going back and forth between a limited number of Bureau addresses and some offices on the Hill.”

“Specifics?” Cam asked, her eyes glinting. This is what we need.

“Not yet. Ordinarily, I wouldn't even find this kind of traffic unusual, but every single message is encrypted and the source files are limited. It will take me a while to pinpoint the origination, but eventually, I ought to be able to give you not only the who, but the what."

"Excellent. While you’re at it," Cam instructed, "see if you can trace those same e-mail addresses or copies of the messages to anyone in Justice or Treasury."

"That means a lot of transmissions to sort out, Commander," Felicia pointed out. "It's the most common pathway for legitimate intra- and interagency business these days."

"I know that. What we need," Cam said in frustration, "is to find out who is coordinating this operation. That someone must have all the information. We need a name." She stood, and the others followed. "I'll be in Command Central all day. If anyone gets anything, advise me immediately. I need you all to remain available to meet here at any time in case something breaks."

Everyone murmured their assent as they gathered papers and moved toward the door. When Blair closed the door behind the small group of supporters, she turned to Cam and said, "What do you think?"

Cam leaned against the back of the sofa, her arms crossed loosely over her chest. "I think Davis is onto something. There has to be a tie-in to the Hill, because I can’t see the Bureau in this all alone even if it does have Hoover-esque overtones." She rubbed both hands briskly over her face and sighed.

“What is it?”

“I’ve had three calls from Carlisle since 8:00 a.m.”

Blair’s chest tightened. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know,” Cam replied grimly. “I haven’t answered.”

“What do you think he wants?”

“To advise me of my suspension.”

She started toward the phone. “I’m calling Lucinda.”

“Blair, no,” Cam said softly. “This isn’t your fight.”

Blair stopped dead and stared stonily at Cam. “I beg your pardon?”

“This is internal—something between Carlisle and me and whoever might be squeezing him on this.” Cam held out her hands. “Come here.”

After a second’s hesitation, Blair crossed the room and stepped into the space between Cam's legs, loosely wrapping her arms around her lover's shoulders, one hand going to the back of Cam’s neck. She stroked her gently. “Don’t shut me out.”

“I won’t,” Cam promised, encircling her waist. “But let’s wait to pull out the big guns.”

Blair laughed. “Lucinda would love to know you called her that.”

“Speaking of the formidable Chief of Staff,” Cam said, "what have you decided about making a statement to the press—about us?"

"I believe I’m at the point that if asked, I will acknowledge."

"Good," Cam murmured as she kissed Blair's forehead. "I think that's a very good idea."

Blair studied Cam's eyes, looking for any sign of worry. "Are you sure you're okay with that if I do? You're going to get most of the heat initially. Someone is bound to raise the issue that you took advantage of your position or that your effectiveness has been compromised."

Cam brushed her thumb against the corner of Blair's mouth, smiling when Blair quickly turned her head and kissed it. "I'm fine with it. I love you."

The words never failed to pierce her to the core, and, smiling, Blair pressed closer, her lips finding Cam’s neck before she rested her cheek on Cam's shoulder. “Well, I can testify to the fact that your effectiveness has not been diminished in the least.”

“Good to know,” Cam murmured.

Closing her eyes, Blair breathed her lover’s scent and felt her heartbeat strong beneath her palm. Feeling inexplicably at peace, she whispered, "I love you, too, Commander."

As the afternoon dragged by, Blair tried to occupy her mind with work. Usually, once she began applying paint to canvas, her focus was so intense that everything else would disappear from her consciousness. Unfortunately, it wasn’t working this time. Frustrated, she set her palette and brushes aside and pushed both hands through her hair, glancing at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes.

As she crossed the loft with the intent of calling the command center to ask Cam for an update, a knock sounded on her door. She detoured in that direction and sighed with relief when she saw her lover’s face through the peephole.

“God, I’ve been going crazy up here,” she said as soon as she had the door open. She grasped Cam’s hand and pulled her inside, then kissed her swiftly on the mouth. “Tell me you’ve got something.”

Cam shook her head, shedding her jacket to the back of a nearby chair and shrugging out of her shoulder holster. “Not yet, but Davis is hopeful that it won’t be too long. I’ve got to believe we’ll turn up something soon.”

We have to, because the clock is ticking faster than I thought.

“Maybe this really will be over soon,” Blair said wearily. “At least we haven’t gotten any more envelopes with surveillance photographs of us inside.”

“No, and I don’t think we will either,” Cam said, moving to the sofa and leaning back with a sigh as she relaxed into the cushions. She’d been hunched over a computer in the command center for hours.

“Why not?” Blair asked as she joined her.

“Because I think our theory that these came from a friendly source is correct,” Cam said as she took Blair’s hand, intertwining their fingers and resting them on her thigh. “I think they were meant to warn us—or at least you... of the scope of the investigation and perhaps to give a hint of the intent. The first photograph was of you and I together, letting you know that our relationship wasn’t a secret. But it wasn’t as damaging as it might have been, because it wasn’t clear that you were with a woman, and I wasn’t identifiable. Plus, there’s been no follow-up to that. A reporter wouldn’t be likely to sit on that kind of juicy tidbit for long.”

“I agree,” Blair mused. “In fact this reporter in Chicago, Eric Mitchell, is probably dying for a follow-up. Obviously he hasn’t gotten anything further or he would have run with it.”

“Exactly.” Cam rubbed her thumb over the top of Blair's hand as she spoke. “Then we have a photograph of me in a bar with a woman in a compromising position. As a result, we know that there’s an active covert investigation of me. And it points to the kind of surveillance that only professionals can carry out—a link to the Bureau or Justice.”

“And finally,” Blair said emphatically, “there’s a picture of the woman you’d been having a clandestine affair with.”

“Hardly an affair,” Cam objected hastily.

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Cameron, let’s not split hairs.”

“Point taken.”

“Regardless of what you call it,” Blair continued unperturbed, “the third photograph warned us that the escort service was under investigation, suggesting that the operation extended to personal lives—possibly not just yours, but other influential people as well.”

“Including the president,” Cam added. “I’d say that someone managed to draw us a pretty clear picture of what was going on without actually naming names—or risking exposure themselves.”

“I suppose,” Blair said softly, “they might have thought it would scare me enough to stop seeing you.”

“Thereby giving you credible distance and keeping you clear of any scandal.” Cam’s stomach tightened. “Everything points to a D.C insider.”

“Right—Deep Throat,” Blair said with a sigh. “I suppose it would seem like a favor to anyone who doesn’t know how serious I am about you already.”

“Does anyone know?”

Blair shook her head. “Only Diane. And your mother.”

Cam stared at her for a second, then grinned for the first time in what felt like days. “I think we can rule them out. What about your friends—your contacts? You seem to have a pretty well-positioned circle of insiders at that White House and other handy places.”

“Believe me, I’ve thought of that. I can think of one or two who might stumble onto something like this, but I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t just pick up the phone and call me.”

Cam sighed. “I agree—that makes no sense.”

Blair drew her legs up under her and curled up against Cam’s side, threading her free arm around her waist. “Well, I’m grateful to whoever did it, but there’s nothing that could keep me away from you.”

Yes, there is.

When Cam didn’t reply, Blair sat up and regarded her with concern. “Cam? What is it?”

“As of 0900 tomorrow morning, I’ll no longer be your security chief. Mac will be interi–”

“No,” Blair cried, getting hastily to her feet, her eyes slightly wild. “No. That’s not how this is going to go. No.”

Startled, Cam stood, reaching for her hands. “Blair –”

“Don’t,” Blair said sharply, stepping back, avoiding Cam’s touch. “I know what will happen. They’ll replace you, and I’ll never see you again.”

“No, that’s not true,” Cam exclaimed, stepping slowly toward her lover.

Blair looked like she was ready to bolt. Cam couldn’t remember ever seeing her so frantic, even when Loverboy had been stalking her. This wasn’t just about them; this was something else, an old terror of loss and abandonment come back to haunt her. Heart aching, Cam said again softly, “I won’t disappear. I promised I wouldn’t.”

Blair’s eyes stung, and a cold hard fear blossomed in her chest. “What if you can’t help it.”

“I can help it,” Cam said with certainty. “Even if I’m not on your detail, I’ll still see you. No one’s going to stop me—stop us.”

“What if—” Blair blinked as Cam’s arms came around her, and she shuddered as she let herself be held. Cam was warm, her body solid, her hands tender. The past slipped away and the world righted itself. She took a deep breath. “Sorry. I panicked. I—”

“It’s okay.” Cam kissed her, and briefly, they found strength in the certainty of their love.

When Blair eased out of the embrace, her eyes were hot, but this time with fury. “God damn it, Cameron...I’m not letting this happen to you; I’m not letting someone tear us apart; I’m not letting Capitol Hill run my life any longer.” She started across the loft toward her sleeping alcove.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to Washington.”

“We don’t know enough –”

“Then I’ll find out,” Blair seethed.

Cam swore as her cell phone rang. Snatching it off her belt, she snapped, “Roberts.”

Her face grew still, her eyes fiercely intent as she listened. “Come upstairs, and bring what you have.”

As she closed the phone, she met Blair’s questioning gaze. “Stark says they have something.”

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 697