Неизвестный - 06. Honor Under Siege

“Yes,” Cam said. “But it won’t take long for them to figure out where we are.”

“Well, then,” Blair pushed the door open as the limo stopped at the curb, “let’s make them run for it.”

With a muffled oath, Cam jumped out and surreptitiously grasped Blair’s hand. “God damn it, Blair, wait.”

Stark barreled out of the front and rushed to Blair’s opposite side. Renée and Diane moved up behind them with Hara following.

“Sorry, darling,” Blair said lightly, hooking her arm through Cam’s. “We’ve got cameras on the left and people waving signs off to the right.”

“I see them,” Cam muttered, keeping her expression neutral as Blair smiled briefly in the direction of the photographers.

When several called out questions to Blair, she waved but didn’t answer, pretending she hadn’t heard them. She pointedly ignored those calling on God or whatever other powers they believed in to punish her for her sinful ways.

“Lovely,” Diane said from close behind.

Cam reached for the hotel door and found Stark there before her.

“Go ahead please,” Stark said. “The escalators to the mezzanine are directly to your right.”

Cam hesitated for just a second, then moved through with Blair by her side.

“You’re just my date, remember?” Blair murmured.

“Sorry,” Cam muttered.

“Don’t be.”

Blair and Cam joined the crowd on the mezzanine and a moment later, a small, compact brunette in a black evening dress approached. Even in heels, she was of average height, but her dynamic expression and confident carriage made her presence seem larger.

“Ms. Powell.” She extended her hand. “I’m so honored that you could come this evening. I’m Emory Constantine.”

“Dr. Constantine,” Blair said, taking the researcher’s hand. “Thank you. My partner, Cameron Roberts, and my good friends Diane Bleeker and Renée Savard.”

“Agent Roberts, a pleasure.” Emory Constantine shook hands with Cam, then indicated the open doors to the banquet hall behind her. “Please, won’t all of you join me at my table.”

“Thank you,” Blair said. “We’d love to.”

“You should burn in hell,” a male voice shouted from across the foyer. “The Bible says you are an abomination.”

Cam instinctively stepped between Blair and the direction of the voice just as Stark did the same. Stark slid a hand under her jacket.

“Wozinski has him,” she murmured just loud enough for Cam to hear.

“Good.” Keeping between Blair and that side of the hallway, Cam took Blair’s hand and said, “We’re clear. Let’s go inside.”

Blair met Emory Constantine’s concerned gaze. “I’m sorry for the disruption.”

Emory smiled faintly. “I was about to say the same thing to you, Ms. Powell. I have a number of fairly vocal opponents.”

“Then we have quite a bit in common,” Blair said.

Emory’s gaze flickered briefly to Cam and then to Diane and Renée. Then she grinned, her dark eyes sparkling. “It seems that we do.”

Chapter Seventeen

“I’m sorry,” Emory Constantine murmured, bending over Blair, who sat at the head table with Cam, Diane, Renée, and a number of notables from the scientific and financial world, “but would you mind posing for one more round of photos? The president of the Institute—”

“No, I don’t mind,” Blair said with a smile, even though she’d been photographed with and without her permission more times than she cared to count in the last three hours. She was used to the press and had expected more than her usual share of attention after all the events of the last few months and the recent announcement of her personal plans. Emory it seemed, also garnered a fair amount of media notice, so with the two of them sitting together, the questions and photos had been nonstop all evening. “I’ll be right there.”

As she rose, Cam did also. Out of the corner of her eye, Blair saw Paula wending her way through the tables toward her. When Blair followed Emory onto the stage and joined the small group waiting there, Cam and Paula took up positions off to each side. Randolph Sumter, the current president of the Johnson Institute, was middle-aged, handsome, and wore his power with subtle arrogance. He didn’t try to hide his non-philanthropic interest as his gaze swept over Blair during their introduction.

“Ms. Powell,” he said in a smooth baritone, “we’d love to have you tour the Institute. I think you’ll find we are doing some remarkable work.”

“Yes,” Blair replied with polite reserve. “I’ve followed Dr. Constantine’s research with interest. You must be very pleased to have her and her team on board.”

To his credit, his smile never wavered. “Without a doubt. Please remember me to your father. The board was a staunch supporter during his last campaign.”

“I certainly will.” Blair took Cam’s hand. “I don’t believe you’ve met my partner, Cameron Roberts.”

Sumter acknowledged Cam perfunctorily, signaled to the photographers, and positioned himself between Blair and Emory with a hand on each of their backs. Once the obligatory photo shoot was over, Blair drew Emory aside.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to slip out a little early.”

Emory shook her head. “Please, you don’t need to explain.” She glanced at a woman who pointed a camera in their direction. “They’re hungry tonight, aren’t they?”

“Tonight?” Blair laughed. “I’m really glad we got to meet. I thought your speech was dynamite. If there’s ever anything I can do, just give me a call.”

“Thank you.” Emory walked Blair to the far side of the stage where the crowd on the floor was thinner. “I might just take you up on that someday.”

Blair smiled. “Good. I’m serious.”

“Congratulations on your upcoming wedding, too,” Emory said, waiting until Cam was close enough to hear.

“Thank you,” Cam and Blair said together.

“I’ll walk out with you,” Emory said, “and we can trade phone numbers.” She looked over the several hundred people in the banquet room and sighed. “I’ve still got another hour’s networking to go, and I could use a break.”

“Come on, then.” Blair grinned. “I’m an expert at sneaking out of things like this.”

Cam motioned to Stark. “Let the team know we’re ready to leave. I’ll get Diane and Savard. We’re still using the planned exit?”

“Yes. I’ll have the cars move around now.” Stark murmured instructions, then said to Blair, “Five minutes, Ms. Powell.”

At the appointed time, the small group took the elevator at the rear of the building to the ground floor and headed briskly down the service corridor toward an exit used by the hotel staff. Blair couldn’t see anyone in the alcoves and smaller hallways branching off the main corridor, but she was certain that members of the security team were stationed along the way. She leaned close to Emory.

“If you really want to break ranks, you can come back to the hotel with us for a drink.”

Emory laughed. “God, don’t tempt me. Unfortunately, fundraising is a necessary evil and I’ve got enough to worry about without adding money problems to my list.”

“I can imagine,” Blair said. “Don’t worry too much about anti-stem cell research legislation. I can tell you my father does not support measures to restrict your work.”

“Thank you. I—”

“Stark,” Cam said sharply as a man in a three-piece suit rounded a corner twenty feet in front of them and strode rapidly toward them. Even as she spoke, she started to step toward Blair. He raised his arm.

“Gun!” someone shouted.

Blair barely heard the warning before the hallway erupted in gunfire and she was knocked to the floor. As she fell she grabbed for Cam but could not reach her. Then she was on the floor with a tremendous weight pinning her down. She pushed and struggled to get free but was only able to turn her head. She saw a hand and part of a sleeve stretched out on the floor a few yards away. Cam’s hand. She screamed but couldn’t get enough air to emit more than a choked sob. Someone groaned.

Then Blair was yanked to her feet, then off her feet, and propelled down the hallway by someone she couldn’t see. Someone big. She finally twisted enough in the iron grip to make out the features. Wozinski.

“Cam,” Blair gasped. “Where is she?”

Wozinski didn’t answer as he shouldered his way out into a narrow service alley. The metal service door banged against the stone building façade with a sharp clang.

The limo idled directly in front of the exit with the back door open. Hara crouched beside it, her gun extended in both hands as she visually swept right and left. Blair jerked in Wozinski’s grasp and almost wrenched free, but he dragged her across the sidewalk, pushed her head down, and shoved her into the backseat.

“Cam,” Blair shouted, immediately trying to climb out of the vehicle. Diane’s body blocked her way as she too was pushed inside. Savard followed, the door slammed, and the vehicle careened away.

Blair stared at Savard, whose face was bone white. Her own heart was racing so quickly her chest ached. She took a breath and then another and dug her fingers into the leather seat. “What do we know?”

“Nothing,” Savard said tightly.

Beside her, Diane sat rigidly upright, her arms wrapped around her torso, her pupils dilated so much her blue eyes looked black. She said my God, my God over and over in a hushed voice.

Blair heard sirens, and then tires squealed behind them and she hastily knelt on the seat to stare out the rear window. Renée leaned across the space between the seats, grasped her shoulder, and gently pulled her back down.

“Please stay away from the windows.”

“Where’s Cam?” Blair took a shaky breath. “Where’s Paula?”

“Paula…is down. I’m not sure about the commander,” Renée said in a monotone.

For an instant, Blair couldn’t decipher the meaning of what she had just heard. Paula is down. Down. Shot? Her mind veered away from the thought. Cam. Cam wasn’t wearing a vest.

“Who’s behind us?” Blair carefully enunciated each word and forced herself to think calmly. Her only hope of getting to Cam was to maintain, or take, control. She wasn’t about to become an unwilling captive of her own security team ever again.

“Mac. I’m not sure who else.”

“Call them,” Blair demanded.

“Protocol is for radio silence,” Renée said.

“I don’t care. Call them now. Consider it an order, Agent Savard.”

Savard stared at Blair for a long moment, then punched two numbers on her handy talky. “Status?”

Blair couldn’t hear a response, but only a few seconds passed before Renée said, “We’re secure,” and slipped the radio back into an inside pocket of her jacket. At the sight of her hand trembling, Blair’s stomach clenched into a painful knot.

“Report?” Blair asked.

“All present and accounted for.”

“What…what does that mean?”

“It means no one was left at the scene. Stark and the commander are in the Suburban behind us.”

“Are they—”

“I don’t know,” Renée said.

The tight fist around Blair’s heart loosened enough for her to breathe without each movement feeling like a knife stabbing through her. “Diane, are you all right?”

Mutely, Diane nodded.

Blair concentrated on burying her panic. Cam was in the car behind her. That was all that mattered. “Where are we going?”

“If Paula…”