Неизвестный - 06. Honor Under Siege

“I know, sweetie.” Renée caught Paula’s hand and held it. “And I promise if all the standing around starts to get to me, I’ll signal for help. But I can handle this. Really.”

Paula sighed. “I’m not doubting you. I’m just a little worried.”

“Of what?”

“Has it occurred to you that we’re all operating off the radar ever since we left Washington?”

“You mean because we’re not reporting to some desk jockey who doesn’t know what it is that we do half the time anyway?”

Paula laughed. “Yeah, I think that’s what I mean.”

“Sweetie, we’re on Cameron Roberts’s radar. I’ll take her being in charge over some SAC or deputy director I’ve never seen and who’s never had my back in a firefight. What about you?”

“Yeah, me too.”

Renée slipped her arm around Paula’s waist and turned her lover’s face toward hers with one finger on her chin. “I’m really okay. You know that, right?”

“You still looked tired,” Paula said, adding quickly, “but, I can tell you’re feeling better.”

“Oh yeah?” Renée kissed her lightly on the lips. “How?”

Paula grinned. “You’re sleeping better.”

Renée kissed her again, a little more firmly. “Is that all?”

“You’re walking better. No cane.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Renée said, trailing a line of kisses along the edge of Paula’s jaw.

“Honey,” Paula said just a little breathlessly. “We’ll mess your makeup.”

“Oh, like I care,” Renée whispered.

“You know I can’t have sex before a big game.” Paula eased away. “It saps my strength and makes my brain sluggish.”

Laughing, Savard skimmed her hand inside Paula’s jacket and over her breasts. “Are you afraid you’ll forget all the big plays and run toward the wrong end zone?”

Paula jumped up and backed away. “No fair touching when you’re just teasing. You know I get excited.”

Renée’s eyes glittered. “Do you now?”

“Renée,” Paula said, hearing her own voice rise with a combination of excitement and nerves. “I’m leaving now. I’m going to Wozinski’s room for the briefing.” She held out her arm, palm facing forward. “Don’t get up.”

“I know the schedule. You’re not briefing for an hour, Chief.”

“I want to review everything by myself, first.”

Renée smiled. “Okay sweetie. I know you’ve got a lot on your mind.” She rose and kissed Paula on the cheek. “But when we’re back here tonight, I’m going to show you just how much I’ve recovered.”

“I’ll look forward to a demonstration. Be careful tonight.”

“You too, sweetie.”

Cam tapped on the hotel room door, feeling like an interloper. Stark, in a smartly tailored navy blue suit and white shirt, answered.

“Do you mind if I sit in on your briefing, Chief?”

“No, come on in.”

When Stark stepped aside, Cam nodded her thanks and entered the dimly lit suite. The drapes over the windows were closed and the overhead lights turned off, leaving only the scattered table lamps for illumination. The effect was oddly intimate. Cam strode directly to one of the empty chairs grouped around the coffee table in the seating area, nodding to Mac, Wozinski, and Hara as she sat down. Stark returned to the chair in the center of the group.

“We were just reviewing the exit routes, Commander.”

“Go ahead,” Cam said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“No problem,” Stark said quickly and handed Cam a printout. “The timetable, shift assignments, and agent placements are all outlined there.”

Cam glanced at it briefly. It was thorough and complete, as she anticipated it would be. It wasn’t the things they planned for that concerned her. It was the threat of the unanticipated that had her pacing in the suite across the hall until Blair had strongly suggested that she ask to sit in on the pre-departure briefing. So now Cam found herself in the awkward position of being an observer.

She was on the verge of getting up and leaving when Stark pushed the papers aside and said, “Is there something in particular you wanted to review, Commander?”

Cam cleared her throat. “First of all, I just wanted everyone to be clear that I’m here because Blair threw me out, not because Stark needs any help.”

Stark smiled and the other agents laughed.

“Well,” Cam continued. “I’m definitely more use over here than across the hall right now.” She addressed Stark. “I don’t suppose metal detectors are feasible, considering that the reception is in the open mezzanine?”

“We could insist that everyone use one escalator and one bank of elevators, but I think we’d get a major logjam as a result. That kind of chaos sometimes makes it easier to overlook things.”

“I tend to agree. Plus,” Cam said with a sigh, “it rather defeats the purpose of having Blair make a public appearance if we ramp up the security measures to the point where it’s obvious we’re worried.”

“I’m not worried, Commander,” Stark said steadily. “As far as I’m concerned, every time Egret makes a public appearance, we have to assume she is a target. That’s the only way to do the job.”

After a moment of complete silence, Cam said, “You’re absolutely right, Chief.” She glanced at the others. “Perimeter coverage?”

“I get to sit this one out in the surveillance van,” Mac said, unrolling a schematic and spreading it out facing Cam. He pointed to a red X with a circle around it. “Here. The other vehicle will be at the south entrance.” He pointed to a blue X. “Here. One of Tanner’s men will drive that vehicle.”

He then opened another schematic of the ballroom. “Exits…here, here, here, and here. Also covered by Tanner’s people.”

“Are we using the local field agents?” Cam asked.

“No,” Stark said. “I decided that Tanner’s team has just as much experience, maybe more. And we’re already used to working with them.”

“Good call,” Cam murmured. She was as certain as she could be that the local Secret Service agents were not compromised, but they also weren’t as likely to fit seamlessly into their current team as Tanner’s security personnel were. Under the circumstances, she would have made the same decision.

“Savard will be with Diane,” Cam said. “We have to assume Diane is a potential target as well.” She glanced at Stark. “But Savard still has mobility issues. She’ll be fine at close range, but you’re going to need mobile backup for her.”

Stark never changed expression. “Already taken care of.”

“Did anything turn up in the doctor’s background?” Cam asked, referring to the keynote speaker. “Threats, angry protesters, anything that might spill over tonight?”

Stark nodded to Mac, who opened a file folder. “Emory Constantine. She’s thirty-one years old, has been at the Johnson Institute for five years, and received a sizable federal grant matched by the Institute two years ago. Has a bunch of recent publications and is considered one of the front runners in stem cell research in the world.”

“Young for that,” Cam observed.

“Apparently she was one of the few to see the writing on the wall before anyone else. She did a lot of the preliminary work while she was still an undergraduate. A case of good timing and, from what I’ve been able to find out, a lot of brains.”

“Personal life?”

“Not much there. Lives in Beacon Hill in the family residence with her mother, divorced, no children.”

“Threat assessment?”

Hara spoke up. “There have been right-to-life protesters at the last three seminars where Constantine has been a headliner. This guy,” she passed out photographs, “was arrested at the last one for physically threatening her as she left the podium. Alexander Frenkel. There’s a restraining order on him now. If he shows up within five hundred feet of her, he goes to jail.”

“Everyone has his picture,” Stark said. “He’s not registered at the hotel, at least not under that name.”

“These four,” Hara went on, fanning out another set of images like playing cards, “have been observed at two out of the last three locations where Constantine made a public appearance.”

Cam frowned. “Affiliations?”

“Three belong to different groups, but the fourth doesn’t appear to have any group connections at all,” Hara replied. “Two are fetal rights activists, one is a pro-lifer, and the loner is an unknown commodity.”

“Who’s providing this intelligence?” Cam asked.

“Local FBI,” Mac said. “They’ve kept a file on the doctor since another stem cell researcher—James Bennett—was attacked in a car park a year ago. The injuries kept him in the hospital for two months.”

“Did the victim have any relationship to Constantine?”

“None other than the fact that they knew each other professionally,” Mac said.

Stark said, “We anticipate the usual demonstrators tonight. We’ll bring Egret in through the side entrance, because the protesters will most likely be out front where they’ll get more press coverage. The hotel can legally bar them from entering, so once we’re inside, she’ll be in the clear from the majority of the organized dissenters.”

“What do you have on local anti-gay factions?” Cam asked.

“A few religious groups, but they’re mostly involved with debates over the church recognizing gay priests and performing same-sex marriages,” Stark answered.

“None of them with a history of violence?”

“No.”

“The press will be all over her tonight, and we’re not going to keep them out of the banquet. It’s a fundraiser, and I’m sure the PR people from the institute will want reporters present.” Cam shook her head. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“There’s one other issue, Commander,” Stark said.

Cam gave her a questioning look.

“You were targeted this week, so we have to assume you’re at risk. Wozinski will cover y—”

“No,” Cam said flatly. “I appreciate it, Chief, but don’t pull someone off Blair’s detail for me. I don’t need it.”

“With respect—”

Cam stood. “I’m officially refusing, Stark. You already have two to cover—Blair as the primary and Diane as the secondary. You don’t have the people to cover anyone else. Are we clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Stark said tightly.

“Thank you.”

“You ready for this?” Blair asked Diane, who sat across from her in the rear of the limo. Renée Savard sat next to her and anyone who didn’t know better would think they made an amazing looking couple. Diane, slightly taller and more willowy than Renée, wore a fitted cobalt blue evening gown with a halter tie and keyhole openings in the bodice. Renée’s jacket and pants were equally elegant. It was obvious to Blair that Renée walked just slightly ahead of Diane and scanned the surroundings with every step. Blair noticed the subtle surveillance because Cam always did the same thing.

Now Diane peered through the bulletproof, one-way glass as the armored limo, courtesy of the Boston Secret Service office, slowed at the side entrance of the Ritz-Carlton. “There are fewer press here than for one of your gallery openings.” She smiled at Blair, but her eyes were sad. “I was hoping to get a chance to plug your next show.”

Blair laughed, appreciating Diane’s fortitude. She hoped that the evening would at least provide a diversion for her for a few hours. She settled her hand onto Cam’s thigh, absently running her fingertips along the seam of the silk tuxedo pants. “Most of them are probably out front, don’t you think?”