Chapter Twenty-three 10 page

"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

The 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?"

"I'll explain while we walk." The Army medical doctor turned and started off, and when Blair and Stark followed, she said over her shoulder, "Skin, blood, sputum, and urine cultures. Blood chemistries and cell counts. Baseline chest x-ray. Electrocardiogram. A complete physical examination."

"You think we're going to get sick, don't you?"

"I don't know," Captain Andrews said. "It's possible that the substance in your apartment was completely harmless. But until we know, we're going to treat you aggressively."

They filed into a large room, and Blair noted several windows set into an interior wall behind partially closed curtains. She pointed. "That looks an awfully lot like an observation window."

"It is," Captain Andrews replied. "The nurses' station is just on the other side. The glass allows them to check on you without actually entering the room."

Blair shivered, although the room was warm. Two hospital beds stood side by side with matching institutional bedside dressers between them. A television was mounted on a metal bracket in the upper corner of the room opposite the beds. A bathroom was visible through an open door in one corner. There were no outside windows. The walls were completely bare. Royal blue surgical scrubs in plastic bags were laid out on each bed. "How do we communicate?"

"There's a two-way intercom just above your bed and one by the windows."

"Do those windows open?"

"No."

"Wonderful," Blair muttered. The lightweight EP suit she'd been provided outside her building zipped up the front and covered her from toe to neck. It was unexpectedly durable, but she still felt as if she were practically naked. She pointed to the clothes. "Can we change?"

"Yes. Once you have, I'll examine you both, draw your blood, instruct you in how to provide the other specimens, and then we'll see about your phone calls." Captain Andrews indicated the beds. "For now, why don't you just make yourselves comfortable there, and I'll be back as soon as I collect the necessary specimen containers."

As soon as the doctor left the room, Blair turned to Stark. "Do we have a choice here?"

Stark shook her head. "No."

"What do they think it is?"

"I don't know, I—".

"Bullshit," Blair said mildly. "I know you know, because Cam would know. And now, you're Cam."

Stark turned her back to open the plastic bags of clothing, knowing that if Blair continued to study her face, she'd discern the truth. "I haven't heard anything about something like this—"

"Paula," Blair said knowingly, "lying won't work. You're way too obvious. Now tell me what you know."

"I'm not sure—"

"Just tell me what you heard. God damn it, don't leave me in the dark."

With a sigh, Stark dropped onto the side of one bed and unzipped her white coveralls, surprising Blair with her apparent unconcern for her nudity. Blair looked away, sensing that Stark was far more upset than she let on and would be embarrassed later. "What is it, Paula?" Blair questioned gently. "You can tell me. I'll be fine."

Stark pulled the scrub shirt over her head and sighed. "Every morning we get a copy of the Central Intelligence Report—that's the joint release from the CIA and FBI. Yesterday an envelope filled with white powder was delivered to a federal building in New Jersey. They suspect it might be anthrax."

Blair sat slowly on the bed, watching Stark's face carefully "Anthrax. Jesus. Do you think that's what that stuff was in my apartment?"

Stark squeezed her hands between her knees and shook her head. "I don't know. I think that's what these people think, though."

"What do the reports say about it? Just how dangerous is it?"

"It didn't go into detail. It's treatable, they said." Seventy percent mortality rate, they said. Stark indicated the clothing on the bed. "You should change before they come back. It feels better to have real clothes on."

"Yeah. Okay" Swiftly rising, Blair unzipped in the same motion and stepped free of the synthetic coveralls to stand nude by her bed. She ripped open the plastic bags and stepped into the surgical scrub bottoms and then pulled on the top. Barefoot, she stretched out on the bed to wait. If it was what they suspected, things were going to be bad. Very bad. "Paula?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not your fault."

Stark said nothing, unable to take solace in the kindness of what she knew to be a lie.

"Is Blair really all right?" Diane asked. She sat next to Valerie on the sofa in her living room where they had sat together barely a day before, but she felt now as if she were sitting beside a stranger. And of course, she was.

"Yes." Valerie swirled the white wine that Diane had poured for her when they'd both agreed upon arriving back at Diane's that a drink would be welcome. Their cab ride had been silent and awkward, just like the lie that hung in the air between them now. She sipped the wine and broke a cardinal rule. "There was a foreign substance in her apartment. We don't know what it is, and she's most likely been placed in isolation until it can be determined."

Diane's fingers tightened on her glass, and she had to consciously force herself to relax her grip. "Like a poison?"

"That's unlikely, since she and the two agents with her appeared to be fine several hours after they were exposed. It's more apt to be an infectious agent of some kind, if it's anything."

"A...biological weapon?"

Valerie angled her body to look directly into Diane's face. "Possibly."

"Are you supposed to be telling me this?"

Valerie smiled wryly. "No."

"Right. Well." Diane held Valerie's gaze. "Who are you, Valerie?"

"I work for the government."

"Like Cam?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Is your name really Valerie?"

Valerie nodded.

"Did you come here to seduce me?"

"No. I came here to gather information. That's what I do." She leaned toward Diane, but did not touch her. "I didn't want to seduce you until after I'd been in the gallery for almost five minutes."

A smile played across Diane's mouth. "Oh, that was very smooth."

"And very true," Valerie said quietly. She put her glass down on the coffee table and took Diane's hand, ridiculously grateful when Diane did not pull away. "It wasn't my intention to lie to you. I didn't come here to use you."

"But you would have, if it would've gotten you what you needed, right?" Diane asked with an edge in her voice.

Valerie hesitated, then sighed. "Yes. If I'd had to, I would have."

"Do you also have sex with women to get what you want?" Diane stared at Valerie, demanding an answer, and saw the truth in her eyes. "My God. You do. Jesus."

Abruptly, Diane pulled her hand away and stood. She walked rapidly to the far side of the room and stood looking out through the glass doors, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. With her back to Valerie, she said, "How can they ask that of you?"

It wasn't the response that Valerie had expected. She stood, but was afraid to approach. She wanted to touch her, just enough so that she wouldn't feel the ache of loneliness that she'd carried with her since she'd left the apartment the morning before. "It's not so much different than expecting soldiers to put their lives on the line in battle. Everyone risks something."

Diane swirled around. "Would you have slept with me?"

"I wanted to," Valerie said immediately.

"But you didn't."

"Because I couldn't, not until you knew, and I couldn't tell you." Valerie lifted a hand and let it fall, at a loss to explain how desperately she had not wanted Diane to be Cam all over again. "I didn't want to be having this conversation after we'd made love, because I knew...I knew you'd never trust me again."

"What makes you think I'll ever trust you now?"

Valerie closed her eyes for a second, absorbing the blow, then shook her head sadly. "I don't. I just hope that you will."

The silence that followed was worse than any recrimination Diane could have flung at her. Helplessly, Valerie watched Diane hurriedly leave the room, knowing there was nothing she could say to undo the hurt that had been done. She sank back down onto the couch, picked up her wine, and slowly sipped, tasting nothing.

"What do you think they've done with Fazio?" Blair asked. "Grau took him in the opposite direction when we got off the helicopter."

"He must be in another unit somewhere," Stark said, picking at the Band-Aid they had placed in the crux of her right elbow after drawing half a dozen vials of blood. "You know, he got the full brunt of whatever that stuff was."

Blair remembered him coughing and swearing and brushing the powder off his shirtfront. Her heart raced furiously, and for a second she felt dizzy. "It'll probably turn out to be nothing."

Stark forced a smile. "Yeah."

"Andrews has been gone half an hour." Blair paced. "How far you think they had to go for the cell phones?"

"Langley?"

Blair stopped, stared at Stark, and then started laughing. Langley— CIA Headquarters. "Probably. Like we're going to give away secrets from inside here." She stopped laughing as abruptly as she had begun and sank back down on the bed. "God, I wish I could talk to Cam."

A shrill noise rilled the room followed by a familiar voice. "Hey."

"Cam?" Blair jumped up and rushed to the glass window as a light came on and illuminated the room on the other side. Cam placed her hand against the glass, and Blair pressed hers to the outline of her lover's palm.

"How are you doing, baby?" Cam asked.

Frantically, Blair looked for the intercom while Stark rose and moved to the far side of the room, giving them a modicum of privacy.

"There's a switch just to the left of the window," Cam instructed.

Blair found it, flipped it, and said, "What took you so long?"

"Heavy traffic."

Smiling, Blair rubbed her fingertips back and forth over the glass as if she were touching Cam's skin, and the illusion of contact made her feel better than she had in hours. "What are they telling you about when we'll get out of here?"

"They're not telling me anything yet, but as soon as I know, you will too. You feeling okay?" Cam tried to keep her tone light, but her stomach clenched as she studied her lover. Blair looked like she usually did when she was steaming. Her eyes were bright, her skin slightly flushed, and her movements quick and tight. Cam realized in that moment just how sexy Blair was when she was angry and understood, too, that it was that very fire that had instantly attracted her to the president's daughter. "Christ, you're beautiful."

Blair grinned. "Be careful, Commander. Stark is here, and you don't want to embarrass her." Blair leaned close to the glass to look into Cam's eyes. When she spoke, she lowered her voice. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I feel fine. We both do."

Cam pressed her hand so hard against the glass her palm was white. She wanted to touch her so badly she hurt inside.

"Cam?" Blair asked quietly, "What's wrong with your finger?"

"What?"

Blair nodded toward the glass. "Your little finger. It's three times its normal size. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Turn your hand over."

"Blair—"

"Let me see it, Cameron."

Reluctantly, Cam complied, repeating hastily when she heard Blair gasp, "It's nothing. It's fine."

"What happened? Sweetheart?" Blair saw Cam's face take on that careful look of consideration she always got when she was about to soften the truth with diplomacy. "And don't try to snow me. That finger is broken, isn't it? What did you do?"

"Ah, hell. I lost my temper and jammed my hand up a little."

Blair's heart gave a lurch. Fear for her safety was the only thing in the world that could make Cam lose control. Instantly, Blair forgot her anger at being shuffled about the country with little explanation, forgot her loathing at her confinement, forgot even the dread that something serious might be wrong with her. All she could think of was Cam, worried and in pain. "Oh, sweetheart. It's going to be okay."

"I know." Cam worked up a smile. "I know that."

"You need to have that x-rayed."

"I will."

Blair tapped the glass sharply. "Now."

Cam grinned. "I love when you get tough."

"You'll love me when I get out of here and kick your ass if you don't get that taken care of too."

"Yeah, I will." When Cam spoke her voice was gravelly, and she had to look away to blink her vision clear. "So. Savard is here."

"Good. Paula could use a visit to lift her spirits." Blair narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"She's had it rough. You might want to prepare Stark for that."

"Okay." When Cam took her hand from the glass, Blair said quickly, "Wait."

Cam frowned. "What's wrong, baby?"

"When will you be back?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Cam said, her expression slightly incredulous. "I'll be right here in this room until you're ready to leave."

"Like you don't have anything else to do?" Blair laughed shakily and summoned a smile. "You go get x-rayed and then go back to work. I'll be out of here in another day."

"Nice try, Blair." Cam ran her index finger down the glass as if she were stroking Blair's cheek. "I love you."

"Oh," Blair whispered, "I love you too."

Chapter Nineteen

Stark pulled one of the straight-backed armless chairs over to the window and sat hunched forward, her hands curled over her knees, her eyes on the glass. Renee stared back at her from the other side. Stark struggled not to let her shock show in her face. It had only been a day since they'd seen one another, but Renee looked as if she hadn't slept or eaten in weeks. Her slender face looked gaunt, her normally brilliant turquoise-blue eyes were a dull gray, and her strong, lithe body appeared frail. Hoping her hand didn't tremble and betray her worry, Stark reached out to flick the switch on the intercom.

"Hi, honey."

Savard straightened her shoulders and smiled more brightly. "Hi, sweetie. You doing okay in there?"

"It's pretty boring, and nobody's telling us much of anything." Stark shrugged. "The usual bureaucratic story. I feel fine. So does Blair. What do you hear?"

Savard shook her head. "Nothing yet. The commander is talking with the medical team right now. I think she was on the phone to the chief of staff too, just a few minutes ago. She won't let them stonewall us. And she won't let them keep you and Blair in the dark."

"Thank God she's here." Stark dropped her gaze, unwilling to inflict her misery on her lover. But she couldn't help thinking that she had fucked up her first assignment pretty badly, and now the commander had to bail her out.

"Hey! Stop blaming yourself. There's absolutely no way you could've known."

Stark's head snapped up. "Less than a week ago there was an attempt on her life. I should've checked her apartment a lot more closely before I let her go in there."

"Paula, sweetie, the commander and I were in that building just a few nights ago. We didn't see anything either."

"I know. You're right," Stark said unconvincingly. "So how are you doing? You look tired."

"Nah, I'm fine. Too much time at the computer." Savard looked over her shoulder, ensuring that she was still alone. "Felicia and I have been dogging the computers 24/7 trying to ID the members of the assault team. So far, nothing. Dental records, fingerprints, photo databases. Zip."

"That doesn't make sense. Those guys were trained."

"We know," Savard said, sounding frustrated. "But we still can't put names to them. So now we're doing deep background on Foster. It's slow going, because his records were thoroughly buried when he entered the Academy."

"That's routine with the Secret Service so no one can access our personal data and compromise us with it."

"Yeah, the same for us. But it makes our job a lot tougher now." Savard leaned back and pushed both hands through her hair. "But Felicia will sort it all out, if anyone can."

"Any word on what the stuff was in the Aerie?"

"Not yet." Savard's eyes filled with tears, and she scrubbed a hand angrily across her face. "Sorry. I'm just. ..I just love you. You can't get sick, okay?"

"Don't worry, honey. Nothing's going to happen to me." Stark clenched her hands out of sight, wishing desperately that there were something she could do to ease her lover's pain. It tore at her to see Renee so close to the edge and to be so powerless to help her. "Will you do something for me?"

"Anything." Savard sat forward, her eyes intent. "Anything."

"Will you try to get some sleep?"

Savard considered lying, but she could tell by the worry in Stark's eyes that it was too late for that. "I'll try. It's been.. .hard."

"You have to take care of yourself. I need you."

"Oh, that's blackmail."

Stark nodded solemnly. "Maybe. But it's true."

Savard indicated the far corner of the room. "There are a couple of beds in here, I guess for the staff when they're monitoring someone around the clock. I'm going to go lie down right now, okay?"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"I'll be here when you wake up." Stark smiled and tried to sound optimistic.

"Promise?" Savard asked shakily.

"Always."

"How long?" Cam asked as Captain Andrews buddy-taped her small finger to her ring finger, creating a functional splint. She sat on an examining table in a small anteroom adjacent to the monitoring area that looked into Blair's room while the doctor tended to her injured finger. She'd gotten the x-ray only because she knew Blair would ask her, and she couldn't bear to upset her now.

"Fortunately, it's a hairline fracture with no displacement. Ten days of immobilization will probably do it, if you're careful—"

"No, not me. Blair: How long until you're certain she's out of danger?"

Captain Andrews straightened with a sigh and met Cam's probing gaze. "I'm working under Delta level restrictions here, Agent Roberts."

"Understood."

"Define your relationship with Ms. Powell."

Cam's gaze narrowed as she studied the other woman. Not surprisingly, she could read little in her expression. Uncertain exactly where the doctor might be headed, Cam decided that a frontal assault was best. "I'm her lover."

"And her acting security chief?"

"That's right." Technically, Hara was next in line with Stark temporarily out of commission, but word had come from the White House via Lucinda that Cam was to "oversee" operations. Not quite a reinstatement, but the closest thing to it.

"Well," Captain Andrews said, crossing her arms over her chest. "The second might not qualify you as being in a need-to-know position, but the first certainly does."

Cam waited, a knot of apprehension tightening in the center of her chest. She gripped the table on either side of her body and squeezed, oblivious to the pain, preparing herself for the blow she feared was coming.

"Be careful with that hand, Agent Roberts, or you'll displace the fracture enough that I'll have to put you in a cast."

"Just tell me."

"The growth of microbial cultures can't be hurried, I'm afraid. It will be a minimum of twelve hours, and more likely twenty-four, before we identify the organism with absolute certainty."

Cam stopped breathing. "You know for certain there was an organism?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes, the gram stains demonstrated that. Basically, that's a quick and dirty way to examine a specimen for living organisms. It doesn't tell us what the bacteria is, only the general class." She hesitated as if trying to judge Cam's reaction. "What we found is a gram-positive, spore-forming bacillus consistent with anthrax. Or smallpox."

"Jesus," Cam whispered, leaning back against the examination table as her legs suddenly went weak. "Smallpox? I thought that had been eradicated decades ago."

Captain Andrews dragged over a tall stool and edged a hip up onto it. "That's true, as far as it goes. Frozen specimens, however, were stockpiled in two places—the CDC in Atlanta and the Maximum Containment Laboratory in Siberia."

"Christ, I bet that place was secure."

"Unfortunately, no. After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, a considerable portion of their stores disappeared. We suspect that they made their way to the Middle East and Asia."

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 976