Chapter Twenty-three 7 page

Dana smiled at Emory. “Looks like I’ll be there.”

Emory smiled back. “Good.”

Blair stood. “Then I vote we move the party to my place.” The SUV was waiting in front of the hotel entrance, and just as Blair and the others reached the vehicle, the world took a jump into fast-forward. Wozinski grabbed the rear door and yanked it open at the same time that Hara and Stark closed in on Blair and propelled her into the vehicle.

“The rest of you, get in, now,” Stark shouted as Wozinski threw himself into the front seat and Stark started to swing the rear door closed. Diane had already followed Blair inside, and Dana grabbed Emory and pulled her in just as the door swung shut.

“What is it?” Blair exclaimed as the SUV roared away from the curb. “Paula? What is it?”

Paula shook her head, her fingers against her earpiece as if urging a message to come through. At the same time, she lifted her communicator. “Delta one, priority red. Delta one, priority red.”

The second Stark stopped speaking, Blair demanded, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” Stark’s body was rigid, her expression stony.

Blair willed herself to think clearly. This wasn’t the first time she’d been in this situation. A rapid evacuation could mean almost anything—another terrorist attack anywhere in the country, a biohazard threat in the subway system, an assassination attempt on her father. Someone in a security division somewhere might simply have overreacted to an intercepted radio transmission and called for extreme protective measures without true justification. She wouldn’t know until Stark had more information, or until she could speak to Cam. Suddenly, she felt icy cold. She gripped the edges of the seat to keep her hands from shaking. “Get in touch with Cam. I want to talk to her.”

“As soon as I can,” Stark replied, still apparently screening transmissions.

Within moments, they careened into the service way behind Blair’s building. Stark unholstered her weapon. So did Hara, and both agents positioned themselves to shield the occupants when the rear door opened.

Blair glanced at her friends. Diane and Emory both appeared stunned but calm. Dana looked fiercely focused and, Blair noticed, she had angled her body so she was between Emory and Hara. If there were armed assailants waiting for them on the street, the gunmen would have to go through two people to get to Emory. Blair took in all of this almost unconsciously, the foremost thought in her mind being Cam.

Where was she? Did she know this was happening? And beneath it all, the one fear she could not allow to surface. The one impossible, unacceptable possibility that all of this was because something had happened to Cam.

“Clear,” Stark said to Hara, and opened the door. Both agents immediately jumped out, and Blair could see other members of the team fanning out around the SUV. Stark leaned in. “Ms. Powell, you first, please.”

“Come with me,” Blair said, taking Diane’s hand.

As soon as they stepped out, half a dozen agents surrounded them and in the next second, Dana and Emory followed with several more agents falling in behind. Blair didn’t bother with conversation, but half ran as the mass of bodies encircling her surged toward the building. Inside, the elevator to the penthouse was standing open and Stark directed Blair, Diane, Emory, and Dana inside. Hara and Wozinski squeezed in last. Once they were moving up, Blair let go of Diane’s hand.

“Do you know anything more?”

Grimly, Stark shook her head. “Not yet.”

The elevator doors slid open, and Blair’s heart sank. Valerie waited in the foyer, her expression grave.

“Is it Cam?” Blair asked woodenly.

“There’s been an incident. I don’t have the details.” Valerie’s gaze never wavered from Blair’s face. “Cameron signaled to secure you. You need to move inside your apartment. Now.”

Cameron signaled. Blair swayed slightly. Alive, then. She’s alive.

“How are they?” Savard croaked, choking as smoke engulfed the vehicles and completely obscured the road above them.

Cam shook her head, wiping sweat and ashes from her face. “Anyone in that van is gone. How about our people?”

“I deflated the airbags to get a look at them. The driver is unconscious, the other has at least an open fracture of his femur, maybe his pelvis.” Savard struggled to open the rear compartment of the SUV, the lower edge of which was partially buried in rocks and earth. “I need to get to the medical equipment.”

Every transport vehicle had at least rudimentary first aid supplies, although not the full complement carried when the first daughter was on board. “Leave it. We need to get these guys out of this thing before it burns.”

“All this smoke has got to be attracting attention,” Savard shouted as they made their way back to the front of the overturned SUV. “Some kind of rescue team should be here soon.”

Cam climbed up on the side of the vehicle, which was now pointing upward, and peered down into the driver’s compartment. “Assuming Agent Tomlinson doesn’t turn them away.” She gripped Savard’s arm. “I’m going inside. I’ll lift them up and you pull them out. Drag them as far away from here as you can.”

Savard frowned and started to protest, but Cam cut her off.

“I’m taller, Renee. It makes sense for me to do it.”

“Promise if it starts to burn you’ll get out.”

“We’ll have them both out by then.”

Cam dropped down into the driver’s compartment, squeezing her body between the men still strapped into their seats and the dashboard. She checked the driver’s neck for a pulse and found a thin racy thread beneath her fingertips. He was alive, but shocky. She eased her hand behind his head and checked for obvious fractures in his posterior skull and neck. She didn’t feel any open wounds or major malalignment, but as a precaution, she worked her arms out of her jacket, folded it lengthwise several times, and wrapped it around his neck. The makeshift cervical collar might not help much if he had a serious neck fracture, but letting him burn to death wasn’t an option. With his neck as protected as she could get it, she braced her shoulder against his chest and unsnapped his seat belt. With both arms underneath his, she straightened to her full height and dragged him up with her. “Can you reach inside and grab him under the arms?”

Savard leaned into the cab and gripped him. “I’ve got him if you can lift a little more.”

“Hold him.” Cam re-grabbed him around his hips and shoved upward. Between the two of them, they got him outside. Then she went back for the other one, this time carrying Savard’s jacket. She wrapped it around his thigh and pulled the arms tight to act as a splint. He moaned while she worked, but fortunately he was only semiconscious.

He mumbled something about his wife, and for a second, Cam thought about Blair. Jesus, she was going to be so scared. “Sorry, I know it hurts. Hang on. We’re going to get you out of here, and then I’ll call her for you.”

When Cam tried to lift him, she couldn’t. Her legs felt like lead and her arms were so tired, she could barely move them. She leaned her head against the windshield behind her and closed her eyes, trying to gather her strength.

“Commander! We’ve got flames under the vehicle. Get out, Commander.”

“Go,” the man in her arms mumbled. “Get out.”

Cam wrapped her arms around his chest and hugged him against her body. “Forget it. I don’t want to face your wife. If she’s anything like mine, she’s going to be pissed enough as it is.”

The man in her arms laughed, a broken sound that ended with a groan. When he spoke again, though, his voice was stronger. “I can pull myself up. Get my hands on something.”

Cam ignored the screaming pain in her shoulders and the trembling protesting muscles in her legs, and pushed up with all her strength. “Reach.” She felt him raise his arms, heard him slap his hands on metal as he gripped the edge of the opening above them. Then Savard was reaching down for him.

“Hurry,” Savard yelled as she pulled the agent out of the truck.

Winded, struggling to stay upright, Cam felt her head spinning. Tears ran from her irritated eyes, and her chest burned with each smoke-laden breath. Visibility had dropped to zero, and for a second, she wasn’t certain which way was up. Then hands dug into her shoulders.

“Commander, climb out. Now.”

Savard yanked on Cam’s shirt, and Cam grabbed the metal above her head. It was hot. Her father had been dead the instant the bomb exploded under his vehicle. She knew that, but she’d had nightmares of him burning for years after. She stepped up on the edge of the steering wheel and launched herself up and through the opening. She tumbled headfirst over the side and onto the ground, landing hard on her back. She wanted nothing more than to stay exactly where she was, except the air was barely breathable and so hot. If she stayed where she was, she wasn’t going to make it home. If she didn’t make it home, Blair would hurt. She rolled onto her stomach and started to inch away from the burning vehicle.

Blair grabbed Valerie’s arm. “What did Cam say? Valerie, what did she say?”

“Stark, secure the residence, please,” Valerie ordered.

Wordlessly, Stark unlocked Blair’s apartment door and she and Hara disappeared inside. Dana watched the apparent transfer of power, wondering who the icy blonde was. Her expression was remote, her green eyes glacially calm. And yet the air around her vibrated as if her body emitted an energy frequency no human could hear. A single word resounded in Dana’s mind. Deadly. Deadly calm. Deadly control. Deadly.

“Who is that?” Dana murmured to Emory. They stood at the outer circle of activity, although Dana didn’t for a second think they were unnoticed. She’d felt the sweep of the blonde’s eyes as they’d exited the elevator and noted the flicker of recognition when she had seen Emory. When Emory didn’t answer, Dana shot her a look. “Off the record, remember?”

“It’s not for me to say,” Emory said quietly.

“But you know her?”

Emory nodded.

“Are you okay?” Dana asked, realizing that Emory was pale. Her eyes were huge dark wells of worry.

“I never get used to it. Being pushed into a car, dragged away. I don’t know how Blair stands it.”

Dana rested her hand on Emory’s back, hoping to reassure her. “Neither do I. But she’s here with friends. That’s good.”

“Yes.”

“You’re shaking.”

Emory smiled tremulously. “It’s adrenaline. I’m all right.”

“Adrenaline. Must be why my knees are knocking.” Dana rubbed Emory’s back in a slow circle. “Looks like we can go inside.”

Stark held the door open. “Clear.”

Dana noticed that Diane Bleeker stayed near Blair, but her attention never left the woman Blair had called Valerie. Everyone moved inside.

Valerie picked up the nearest phone and spoke quietly, her back to the group. Someone turned on the room lights and drew the blinds over the windows on the far side of the room.

“I feel useless.” Dana watched Blair, who stood with her attention riveted on Valerie. Blair reminded Dana of ice statues that looked as if they might shatter if struck by a shaft of sunlight. “Jesus, isn’t there any way to find out what’s going on? It’s driving me crazy, and it’s not my lover out there.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted for your story?” Emory asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice. “The inside scoop with all the drama and pain as a bonus?”

“Is that what you think?” Dana was angry, but the pain in Emory’s eyes was so raw, her own annoyance fled. “He really hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I apologize.” Emory touched Dana’s hand for an instant, then quickly pulled back as if surprised by her own actions. “You have a job to do. A great many people believe that what you do is necessary.”

“But you don’t.”

Emory shrugged. “I don’t believe the public has a right to know what it cannot process or place into context. Not when ill-informed and misguided public opinion can create wars or halt critical scientific progress.”

“And I believe it’s the responsibility of people like me to see that the public understands what’s important. Don’t you think that’s the true power of the press?”

“Perhaps, in the best of all possible worlds.” Emory shook her head. “I don’t think Blair Powell would agree that we live in the best of all possible worlds right now.”

“Give me a chance,” Dana said, not knowing why it was so important but certain that it was. “Give me a chance to prove that I won’t hurt her. Or you.”

“Don’t you mean trust you?”

“Yes,” Dana said fiercely. “Yes. Trust me.”

“I don’t know that I can do that.”

The instant Valerie was off the phone, Blair pulled her out of earshot of the others. “Tell me what you know. Whatever it is.”

“Cameron sent a coded digital signal from her cell phone to our base twenty-two minutes ago. The message directs us to secure you here, and lock down the building.”

“That’s it? You didn’t speak to her?”

“No.” Valerie paused, then added, “And I don’t think you should expect to hear anything from her anytime soon.”

Blair fought the surge of nausea. She’d been in this position before. She knew the drill. Communications were a two-way street. Almost any transmission could be diverted, tapped into, decoded. Cam would not risk a security leak in the midst of a crisis. The fact that she had contacted them at all indicated just how serious the situation was. “You can’t call her?”

“You know that I can’t.”

“Do you know where they are?” Blair glanced over at Stark, who stood just inside the door, her hands behind her back, her jaw clenched. Savard was with Cam. Just this morning, Blair had wanted Valerie to go with her. Then it would have been Diane wondering, worrying, fighting back the fear.

“No. We can’t triangulate the signal. It’s intentionally designed not to be traceable.” Valerie lowered her voice. “My feeling is that Cameron believes there’s a major security breach—either here or in Washington. She has access to her phone, which suggests she’s not being detained, and she was able to send us a message, which indicates she’s not badly injured. Both of those facts are very much in her favor.”

“But you think she’s hurt?” Blair asked.

“I don’t know that,” Valerie said firmly. “And speculation will do none of us any good. You need to trust Cameron. She’s very good.”

Blair had the urge to laugh, but it wasn’t because she found anything humorous She was struck by the absolute absurdity of discussing whether her lover might be injured or in grave danger with a woman whom she’d alternately envied and resented. “What if it were Diane out there?”

Valerie’s expression never changed. “Then if I weren’t with her, I would wish that Cameron was.”

“You believe in Cam that much?”

“Don’t you?”

Blair was taken aback by the mildly challenging tone and then answered firmly, “Yes, I do.” She knew it as the absolute truth, and in the knowing, felt her panic subside and calm take its place in the center of her being.

“Well, then,” Valerie said, “I have some calls to make. The moment I know something, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you.” As Valerie started to turn away, Blair caught her wrist. At the question in Valerie’s eyes, she said, “I’m glad that Cam has you to rely on.”

“I’m not the only one Cameron can count on.” Valerie smiled for the first time. “She has you.”

Chapter Twelve

“How’s your leg holding up?” Cam suspected the accident and the rough terrain they’d been scrambling over were taking a toll on Savard’s barely recuperated knee. Her own body felt as if it had been run over by a truck with very large wheels, but other than being winded from breathing the hot, polluted air, she couldn’t register any serious damage. Savard had only been back to full duty a few weeks, and she probably wouldn’t admit to being injured unless she couldn’t move at all. “We need to secure the road before we call for extraction. I don’t want another team walking into this if there’s a sniper up there.”

“I’ll go,” Savard said.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I can make it, Commander. And it ought to be me.”

Cam didn’t agree with Savard’s belief that safeguarding Cam was her duty. She also didn’t believe that going up the hill was more dangerous than staying where they were. Anyone still in the area who wanted to be sure they were all dead was probably in the process of working their way down the hillside right now. They would likely approach from their flanks, not from directly ahead. The road above was probably clear, but she needed to be sure. “Go. And don’t trust anyone, no matter who they say they are. Keep your weapon at the ready and signal me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Savard disappeared into the murky gloom. The burning cars were smoldering now, generating more black greasy smoke than flame. The night was closing in around her, and Cam was suddenly aware of being in the mountains in November. It was damn cold. She was in shirtsleeves, and her trousers were soaked from crawling through snow-covered brush. She checked on the two injured agents. Both were either unconscious or asleep. They had been wearing trench coats that they’d removed in the SUV, and now both were dangerously exposed. She needed to get these men to a hospital, but she didn’t want to get them killed in her haste to save them. Savard had been gone a few minutes, long enough to have reached the road. Cam was about to start after her when a shower of rocks cascaded down the slope followed by Savard tumbling out of the darkness to land by her side.

“The road is empty, Commander. There’s no guardrail where we went over and nothing to really show that we did, except some debris on the side of the road. It’s so foggy, I don’t think the smoke is all that noticeable to any cars passing by. That’s probably why no one has shown up yet.”

“People have gone off these highways and been trapped in their vehicles for days before rescue teams ever found them,” Cam said. “Tonight, that works in our favor.” She removed her cell phone from her pocket and dialed a Washington extension. The phone was answered on the second ring. “This is Cameron Roberts. I need an alpha-level extraction team, including a med-evac helicopter. Engaging the GPS now.”

“That signal is going to light up for anyone looking for us,” Savard said when Cam disconnected.

“Let’s hope our team wins the race,” Cam said.

“How long, do you figure?”

“She’ll probably send a chopper from Langley. Maybe thirty minutes.” Cam settled down on her stomach to wait, facing upward where she could see anyone who approached from above. “Keep an eye on those guys and make sure they stay close together to conserve body warmth.”

“What about you?”

“I’ve been colder.” Cam remembered the frigid waters of the Atlantic and how very much she never wanted to be that cold again. She needed to stay alert now, because she had to be sure that the next people coming down the slope were there to take care of her injured escorts and get her and Savard out of there. She couldn’t afford to let herself get too comfortable, so maybe the bone-chilling weather wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. “You watch sectors twelve o’clock through six, I’ll take the other half.”

“I’m on it.” A minute later, Savard added, “And, Commander? You know that request I made about more fieldwork? I’d like to reconsider.”

Cam laughed, knowing that Savard wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than where she was right now. In some ways, she felt the same. This was what she was trained for. This was what it meant to live her beliefs. And if there had only been herself to consider, she wouldn’t even be particularly worried. She did not fear death, although she had no desire to die. She wanted to live a long time and share every moment she possibly could with Blair. And above all else, she wanted to spare Blair the agony she knew Blair would feel if she did not return from a mission. She couldn’t imagine losing Blair—in fact, even contemplating it was more than she could tolerate. Without taking her eyes off the murky shadows around her, she said, “Forget changing your duty request, Savard. I’m afraid you just proved you’re combat ready.”

Savard’s quiet laughter pushed back the cold and made the dark just a bit less impenetrable.

“How are you doing?” Valerie asked, joining Diane where she stood before the fireplace. Although the room hadn’t been cold, she’d asked Diane to start a fire to chase away some of the gloom. Earlier, she’d ordered the blinds closed against the possibility of outside surveillance, which had added to the claustrophobic atmosphere in Blair’s loft. Although she trusted the bulletproof glass to stop most small weapons fire, she didn’t trust it to stop a surface-to-surface missile. And it was well past time to anticipate an attack from unexpected sources.

Diane took Valerie’s hand and leaned closer to her. “I feel guilty for being glad you’re here and not out there with Cam and Renee. Isn’t that horrible?”

“No,” Valerie whispered. She wanted to hold her. She wanted to kiss her. She also wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but she didn’t. Lies came easily to her, because altering others’ perception of reality was what she was good at. So good that few people even knew who she was. That skill had suited her very well up until now—more than once the ability to make others believe a lie had saved her life. Now, what mattered most was that Diane never doubt she was telling the truth. “When I got the emergency evac signal, I ordered Stark’s team to secure not just Blair but everyone with her because I knew the team would keep you safe too. Not strictly protocol.” She brushed a quick kiss over Diane’s hand. “But I didn’t care. I need you to be safe.”

“Do you think they’re all right?” Diane asked.

“Everything I know tells me they’re in trouble, but able to maneuver. If Cameron has any opportunity at all to gain the upper hand, she will.”

“I know it’s going to be hours, maybe days before this is resolved, and you need to be here.” Diane caressed Valerie’s face fleetingly. “But after that, I need you to come to me. Promise me that you will.”

Valerie didn’t hesitate, because this was a truth she embraced without question. “I will. I love you.”

Dana sat beside Emory on the sofa where she’d started the day twelve hours earlier and watched Diane and Valerie talking across the room. Everything about their body language said they were lovers. Interesting, that Blair’s best friend was involved with someone who was obviously high up in the chain of command.

“Is she Homeland Security?” Dana asked Emory.

Emory sipped the coffee that someone had the brilliant insight to make in large quantities. She had a feeling they were all going to need it tonight. “Do you think if you ask the question that I refused to answer previously in a slightly different way, that I’ll answer?”

“It’s not the same question. Before it was open ended—Do you know who she is?” Dana crossed her legs, balancing her ankle on her opposite knee. “Is she homeland security? is a factual question. Background. Reference. It doesn’t call for disclosure of personal information.”

“Is that line of thinking supposed to make me more comfortable around you?” Emory shook her head. “Because it doesn’t. It just sounds sneaky.”

Dana listened for censure in Emory’s tone and relaxed a little when she didn’t hear it. Emory seemed to be searching for the ground rules, something that Dana ordinarily tried to keep as vague as possible. With Emory, she didn’t want to make a mistake. She had a feeling there would be no second chances, and considering that she hadn’t even had a first chance yet, she chose her words carefully. “Usually I have to get information from people who most often don’t want to give it. The leader of a terrorist cell living in a cave in the mountains in Afghanistan wants his message to be heard, but he doesn’t want me to know the truth. He wants me to broadcast his jihad, but he doesn’t want me to know how many men he has, or who funds him, or what he intends to blow up next.” For a second, she was back in a jeep in a barren wasteland in a world so brutal that morality was sacrificed on the altar of survival. She shivered, then smiled wryly. “I’m sorry. None of that has anything to do with you.”

“You’re wrong there.” Emory shifted so her knees were touching Dana’s leg. “If we’re going to be friends, I need to understand what’s important to you. And what isn’t.”

“Are we going to be friends?”

“I don’t know.” Emory shrugged, her expression almost sad. “My aversion to reporters isn’t entirely due to…personal…experiences. I’m not exactly as popular a target as someone like Blair, but my work is controversial enough that I tend to draw a crowd.”

“You’re hassled by the press a fair amount.”

“Yes. Relentlessly, sometimes. And unfortunately, not all the reporters take an open mind to what I’m doing.”

“Tissue regeneration, right?” Dana had reviewed some but certainly not all of the voluminous articles on Emory Constantine and her controversial work on stem cell research. It was a hot-button topic with every right-to-life group, extremist religious group, and anti– genetic engineering organization.

“Considering that it’s public knowledge, yes, that’s the general term for what I do.”

Dana leaned closer. Unfortunately, as soon as she did she caught Emory’s unique scent, which totally derailed her train of thought. Now was the time to take advantage of the high emotions everyone was experiencing. Barriers were down, control shaky. People said things, did things, admitted things they wouldn’t ordinarily if they weren’t so distracted and upset. Like blood in the water, a crisis signaled the time for a reporter to strike, and strike hard. Instead, she felt herself holding back. “I’d like to talk to you about your work sometime. What you think people should know about it. What you want others to understand.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Just consider it,” Dana said. “You know the only way you’ll get public support is by making them understand how research like yours will benefit them.”

“You make it sound as if people are only interested in their own welfare.”

“Usually,” Dana said flatly, “that’s the case.”

“You’re a cynic.”

“I prefer to call it realism.” As much as she hated to do it, especially considering what she and Emory had been discussing, Dana couldn’t ignore her instincts completely. Blair Powell was alone for the first time all afternoon, and Dana had a job to do. She stood up. “Excuse me.”

Emory followed her gaze. “Doesn’t it bother you, taking advantage of other people’s pain?”

“I’m sorry that’s the way you see it,” Dana said before she walked away. All the way across the room, she could feel Emory’s eyes on her, and it hurt to know she had disappointed her. Still, she kept going until she reached Blair, who sat with her back to the room at the counter dividing the living area from the kitchen. “Excuse me, Ms. Powell, may I sit down?”

“Go ahead,” Blair said, staring at an untouched cup of coffee on the counter in front of her.

“Can I warm that up for you?”

“No thanks,” Blair said, finally angling her head to look at Dana.

Blair’s eyes were darker than Dana remembered, and she thought that was probably from the pain she felt coming off her in waves. Dana was no stranger to other people’s tragedies, and she was used to interviewing people in the midst of the agony of loss. Tonight, though, it affected her more than usual, because she already felt an affinity for the first daughter. Despite her sympathy, she still needed to know. “What’s it like? Being here, waiting, not being able to do anything?”

“You know,” Blair said contemplatively, “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before.” She glanced across the room at Diane and Valerie with a fond, sad smile. “Diane wants to protect me. The others do too, even when they hurt so badly themselves they’re almost dying.” She looked into Dana’s eyes. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“I imagine when you’re not grateful for them caring, you hate it.”

Blair laughed bitterly. “That’s about right. And it doesn’t make me very happy to admit it. Especially to you.”

“I’m not writing this down.” Dana displayed her empty hands. “No tape recorder. But, for the record, tell me why you support your lover doing what she does.”

“That’s easy,” Blair said quietly. “The job she does is essential, and as my father says, only the best should do it.”

Dana’s heart surged, because the simple truth was always the most powerful. “Have you ever asked her to stop?”

“Yes.” Blair’s expression became distant, and Dana had a feeling she was recalling a conversation. Her smile flickered, and then settled into one of tender resignation. “I tried to make her choose between me and her duty, but she wouldn’t.”

“And you gave up trying to change her mind?”

“I love her. I think I mentioned that.”

Date: 2015-12-11; view: 590