Неизвестный - 06. Honor Under Siege

Felicia Davis, a statuesque African-American with features that suggested she might be descended from an ancient Egyptian queen, sat in a rattan chair sipping coffee. “Shall I arrange accommodations?”

“Yes. The usual hotel. At least for a night until the commander— until I determine Egret’s immediate schedule.”

Pushing numbers on her cell phone, Felicia rose and walked to the French doors leading to a wide deck with a view of the beach.

“What about me?” Renée Savard reclined on a sofa with her left leg propped up on an overstuffed hassock. A blue fabric knee immobilizer with wide white Velcro straps was wrapped around her knee. “Can I tag along?”

Paula held up one finger as she spoke into the phone and simultaneously entered information into the computer. A minute passed, then she disconnected and returned to the living room to sit next to Renée. She skimmed her fingers through her lover’s shoulder length golden-brown hair. “How’s your leg?”

“Other than the fact that it feels as heavy as a tree trunk, and about as functional, it’s fine,” Renée said edgily. Her blue eyes narrowed. “It would feel a hell of a lot better without this immobilizer.”

“Just for a few more days.”

Renée waved her away. “Go take care of what you have to take care of. How soon are you leaving?”

“ASAP.”

“Well then, don’t waste time asking me about my stupid leg.”

Paula kept her expression neutral. She knew Renée’s leg hurt, and she knew that her bad temper was more than pain. “Do you want to hang out here while we’re gone? I can get Tanner to arrange a private car to take you back to Manhattan if you don’t.”

Tanner Whitley, heir to the Whitley corporate dynasty and the owner of Whitley Island, was one of Blair’s oldest friends from prep school. She also had one of the best private security forces in the country. Her crew had been providing perimeter protection during Blair’s stay, ensuring that no one approached the house from the main road that bisected the island. Stark trusted Tanner completely.

“I don’t want to go back to Manhattan.” Renée sounded uncharacteristically petulant. “Not when I can’t work. Not when you’re not there.” She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “Jesus, listen to me. I’m pathetic. I’m sure you don’t want me underfoot while you’re working.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be in DC, or where we’ll be going after that,” Paula said. “But—”

“Just go, Paula. I’ll call Tanner later and arrange my own—”

“But,” Paula continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, “if it turns out we’re not staying in DC, it’s just as easy for you to head back to Manhattan from there as from here. Come with us.”

A crooked smile broke the smooth caramel plains of Renée’s cheeks. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t so sweet when I’m being cranky. It makes me feel guilty, which just makes me crankier.”

“I’d be cranky too,” Paula whispered. “I’m sorry it’s so hard for you right now.”

Renée’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away. “Jesus. I need to do something. If I sit around much longer, I’m going to really be crazy.”

“Officially you’re still part of the commander’s team, even though you’re on sick leave,” Paula said with conviction. “So, you’re coming with us. You need help packing?”

Renée grabbed the crutches that leaned against the sofa next to her. “No. I can manage. You go take care of things, Chief.”

“Yeah, okay,” Paula said, unable to keep her face from flushing. Chief. It sounded good.

Blair left her suitcases by the front door and walked outside to take a last look at the ocean. She wasn’t sure when she’d be able to come back to the island and she already missed it. The solitude was good for her art. She’d been able to paint here, despite everything that had happened to her and the rest of the world. She had asked Tanner to investigate the possibility of her purchasing the house; the current owners only used it as a rental property. The location was perfect— isolated, easy to defend, and close to Tanner, whom she missed and never managed to visit enough. It was also near enough to Manhattan that Diane Bleeker, her art agent and best friend, could easily visit.

She sat down on the top step of the rear deck and punched in a number on the disposable cell phone Cam insisted she use. She was half surprised when the call was answered.

“Hi, where are you?”

“Still in Manhattan,” Diane replied. “How about you?”

“About to head south.” There was no reason to think that her calls were being monitored, but after the constant admonishments of her various security teams, Blair had reluctantly accepted the necessity of caution. She avoided mentioning the specifics of her travel plans in phone conversations. Diane was used to filling in the blanks.

“Ah,” Diane said, “back to the real world.”

“Yes. Do you have the gallery open?”

“I’ve postponed the next show at the artist’s request. He didn’t think it was the best time, and I tend to agree with him. It will take a while until it’s business as usual back here.”

“So are you going to take a trip?” Blair asked lightly, although she waited for the answer with a sense of misgiving. Diane had recently become romantically involved with a CIA agent who had disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and Blair worried that Diane was somehow going to try to find her. In all the years they’d known one another, Blair had never seen Diane truly in love before. Now that Diane had fallen hard, only to be left just as abruptly, she was suffering. It pained Blair to know that her friend was hurting.

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m waiting for…inspiration.”

She’s waiting for Valerie to contact her, Blair mentally translated. “Well if that occurs, you’ll be sure to let me know.”

A beat of silence ensued. “Of course.”

“I mean it.”

“How about that other matter we were discussing?” Diane said, overtly changing the subject. “The celebration I’m going to be planning.”

Blair smiled, thinking about the wedding. Her wedding. Hers and Cam’s. Something she’d never anticipated wanting. A commitment to one woman for life. A formal commitment, a statement to the world. The idea had once seemed intimidating. But now, when the world had proved itself to be untrustworthy, capable of shifting dangerously at any moment, now more than ever she wanted that commitment. “I’m going to discuss that later on today. I’ll get back to you with a timetable.”

Diane laughed. “I wish I was going to be there to hear it.”

The wind had died down and Blair was warm in the sun. She shrugged out of the black leather blazer she’d pulled on over a scooped neck navy T-shirt and jeans. “You could come down for a few days. I should stay for a while once I get there, and I could use the company.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Blair said softly. She wanted to say more, that right now it felt good to be surrounded by the people she loved and who loved her, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to remind Diane that Valerie was gone, not when she knew how hard Diane was trying to hold on to the belief that Valerie still cared for her. That Valerie hadn’t simply abandoned her after a short, convenient affair. Worse, that Valerie hadn’t used her as part of her cover story. “Say you’ll come down.”

“I’m not staying…you know where.”

The White House. Blair laughed. “Oh, believe me, neither am I.

We’ll stay with a friend.” With Cam.

“Oh goody,” Diane said, sounding like her old self for the first

time. “Sooner or later, I’m going to get to watch.”

“You just keep on dreaming, honey. Everyone needs a dream.” After a pause, Diane said, “I know. I just discovered that.”

Five hours later, the Air Force jet that Blair and the others had boarded at Lexington Air Force Base northwest of Boston began its descent to Andrews Air Force Base in Prince George’s County, Maryland, a few miles southwest of DC. Ordinarily Blair and her team traveled by corporate jet, but with the heightened security, Lucinda had dispatched the same transport usually reserved for the president, the vice president, high-ranking dignitaries, and other VIPs. It was another change in Blair’s life that didn’t make her particularly happy, but she understood the need for it.

“How long do you think we’ll be at priority one,” Blair asked, leaning against Cam’s shoulder.

Cam took Blair’s hand and drew it into her lap. “Indefinitely would be my guess.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” Blair sighed. “I detest military escorts. Do you think they’re going to restrict my travel?”

“Are you planning on going somewhere?”

Blair laughed. “Well, I was hoping for a honeymoon.”

“Ah. That.”

“You’re not backing out are you?” Blair shifted on the seat and studied Cam intently, the barest hint of worry in her eyes.

Cam held her gaze. “Absolutely not. I told you. Name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

“You don’t think we should wait, because of everything that’s happened?”

“I think the best way for any of us, all of us, to let the world know that we won’t be terrorized is to continue to live. No, I don’t think we should wait.”

“Thank you,” Blair said.

Cam brushed a kiss over her fingers. “Did you think I’d change my mind?”

“You have hit your head a couple of times recently.” Blair leaned over and kissed the corner of Cam’s mouth. “It might have been enough to make you forget how much I’d hurt you if you did.”

“Just let me know when you plan to drop this little bomb on Lucinda,” Cam said. “I’d like to be somewhere else.”

“Coward.”

Cam grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

“Excuse me,” Paula Stark said as she made her way down the center aisle. “We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes. Ground transport will meet us on the tarmac. You’ll exit once we’ve cleared the area, Ms. Powell.”

“Thank you, Paula. I know the drill.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Sorry.” Blair sighed, already feeling the claustrophobic atmosphere of priority one security. “Paula, I’ll be staying at Cam’s after we finish at the White House.”

Paula nodded, her expression never changing. “Yes ma’am.”

When Stark had moved back toward the front of the plane, stopping partway to confer with her team, Cam whispered, “It would be easier if we stayed at the White House.”

“Easier for whom?”

Cam laughed. “Your security team.”

“I don’t like to make love in those antique beds.”

“Have plans, do you?”

“Oh yes,” Blair whispered. “I most definitely have plans.”

Cam settled back for the landing, Blair’s hand still in hers. “Well, then, the security team will just have to make adjustments.”

Chapter Three

Paula exited the plane first, followed by Hara and Wozinski. Felicia Davis waited just inside the open door to accompany Blair. Two late-model black Suburbans idled at the edge of the tarmac, each with a driver behind the wheel and an agent standing near the open rear door. The ground transport teams were Washington-based Secret Service field agents who were called upon to provide backup support for the first family and visiting dignitaries upon the protectee’s arrival in DC.

Hara and Wozinski stopped at the bottom of the flight stairs while Paula crossed to the vehicles. She checked the IDs of every agent, scanned the front and rear compartments of both vehicles, and then took a slow visual survey of everything with a sight line to the path Blair would take from the plane to the Suburban—other vehicles, rooftops, communication towers. Everything she did was SOP, but it would never be routine again. Blair’s security had been breached. They had all learned a lesson at a nearly inconceivable price.