Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

• Название: Oath of Honor
• Автор: Radclyffe
• Жанр: Прочая старинная литература

---

careful around her. “My father’s ATF, my aunt’s IRS, my younger

brother’s ICE, and the next oldest went army. We’ve got a few more

agencies covered with the cousins.”

“That’s a heavy legacy to inherit.”

“Not so much.” Evyn shrugged and turned onto Pennsylvania

Avenue, passing by the House, leaving the glowing lights behind,

and headed north toward Dupont Circle. The streets were dark, nearly

deserted. “Wasn’t hard for me—I always knew what I wanted to do.”

“And you love it.”

“Yeah I do, except—”

“—for the cold.”

Laughing, Evyn looked over and tripped into Wes’s eyes. Under

the streetlights, the green of her eyes darkened to the deep hues of a

hidden glade in the heart of the forest. Splinters of moonlight carved

out the elegant arch of her cheekbones and pooled in the hollow of her

throat. Jesus. She was beautiful. Fixing back on the street, she said

tightly, “You want fancy, or plain, simple, and good?”

“I don’t need frills,” Wes said. “But good, yeah. That matters.”

“Not one for show, is that it?” Casual, she could do casual. And

distant. She needed distance. She had to train her, for Chrissake, and

don’t forget Peter. What the fuck was wrong with her?

“The only thing I care about,” Wes said as Evyn turned up

Connecticut, “is getting the job done.”

“So how come you’re teaching and not…you know, doing?” When

silence ensued, she glanced over and figured from the rigid set of Wes’s

jaw she probably could have phrased that a little more diplomatically.

Well, she’d wanted distance. Now she had it. How come it didn’t feel

so good? “Sorry. I take it that was an insult of some kind?”

• 47 •

RADCLY fFE

Wes blew out a breath and eased back in her seat. “No, it’s not

an insult. I’m not ashamed to spend most of my time teaching. I do

my share in covering the ER in rotation, but I have a certain knack

for teaching and I like it. The way things have been going the last few

years, more troops see combat. War has changed. New weapons and

new ways of fighting mean new types of injuries. If our medics aren’t

fully prepared for the kinds of battlefield causalities they’ll face, troops

die. I figure this is the best way for me to see that doesn’t happen.”

“I get that,” Evyn said softly.

“What you do is totally different,” Wes said. “For you, it’s a lot

more personal.”

“Personal?” Evyn gripped the wheel harder, uncomfortable with

the shift of focus back to her. Her hold on the whole night was slipping.

She should be on her way home to Alexandria to get some much-

needed sleep. Or maybe she just needed some human contact of the

sexual variety—too late for a club, but she still had a few women in her

little black book who would take her call no matter how late. Instead

of either safe option, she was on her way out to eat with a woman who

lured her into unfamiliar territory so smoothly she never noticed until

she was floundering for direction. “I, ah, don’t know about personal.

I’m doing my job. It’s what I’m trained to do.”

“True,” Wes said, “but what you do in a split second has an

immediate and critical impact. Whatever effect I might have is at a

distance…months, possibly years later…when a young medical student

or resident saves a life because of something I taught them.”

“And that’s enough for you?” Evyn couldn’t help asking, although

she knew she should be searching for some vacuous topic like the

Redskins’ standing in the playoffs. She pulled to the curb in front of

Circa and swiveled on the seat to face Wes across the narrow divide.

“Just taking on faith that down the line, somewhere, sometime…?”

“For me, it’s the long game. I’m not looking for immediate

gratification.”

“Yeah, well.” Evyn cut the engine. “I don’t look much past the

moment. Not in my nature.”

“I guess that makes us different,” Wes said quietly.

“Like night and day.”

• 48 •

Oath Of hOnOr

chapter six

Senator Franklin Russo glanced at the brass clock on his desk.

Nine p.m. Headlights flickered through the trees along the

approach road to his Idaho mountain retreat, alerting him to a vehicle

arriving. Hooker was punctual. He expected that of those who worked

for him. That and absolute, unquestioning loyalty.

The doorbell rang and a moment later a soft knock sounded on his

study door.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, and his personal aide Derek Sullivan, a

thin young blond in khaki pants and a starched striped shirt, said, “Mr.

Hooker is here, sir.”

“Good. Have him come in.”

A heavyset middle-aged man with a thick brown mustache flecked

with gray strode in. His snow-crusted work boots left muddy streaks on

the wide pine plank floors. His broad, rough face was ruddy from the

subzero temperatures.

“Close the door, Derek,” Franklin said, “and see that we’re not

disturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” Derek backed out and pulled the door shut.

“Hooker,” Franklin said, “what do you have to report?” He didn’t

offer Hooker a seat. The man was a hired gun, muscle. Necessary, but

not part of his inner circle. He paid him well, and that was all that

mattered.

“I’ve got a contact with the connections we need in DC,” Hooker

said. “It won’t be cheap.”

• 49 •

RADCLY fFE

“Money is not a factor,” Franklin said, “but discretion is.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. He doesn’t know who I’m

working for. He doesn’t want to know.”

“All the better.” Franklin leaned back in his leather swivel chair

and steepled his hands in front of his chest, regarding Hooker carefully.

His presidential campaign was gaining strength in the heartland, but

Andrew Powell was a popular incumbent. He needed to cast doubt

on Powell’s ability to lead the country through increasingly troubled

times. He needed insurance. This man promised it to him. “What about

obtaining the material?”

“He’ll set me up.” Hooker shrugged. “But we might have to get in

bed with the militia to accomplish the actual acquisition.”

Franklin shook his head. “I don’t like exposing ourselves to

hotheads, and after the fiasco at Matheson’s compound, the whole

bunch of them are going to be under surveillance. I can’t afford to be

linked to them.”

“That’s what you hired me for—I’ll run interference and make

sure nothing blows back on you.”

Hooker smiled, a slow just-short-of-ugly smile that set off warning

blips on Franklin’s radar. If Hooker hoped to put him in his debt, he was

wrong. Throughout his rapid rise to power in the senate and on the

path to winning the presidential nomination, he’d had to make deals

and promise paybacks, but he was always careful not to give anyone

leverage on him. He never let anyone other than Nora Fleming know

the whole of his plans. Nora Fleming was more than his campaign

manager. She was the only one who shared his vision—not his wife,

not his children, not his staff. As the leader of the Patriot Party, he was

running for president on a platform of reinstating traditional American

values of family, morality, and religion. His family was an essential

element of his image—but Nora was his true support.

“Just remember—plausible deniability,” Franklin said. “We need

a lot of distance between my campaign and the activities of these

radicals.”

“Not to worry. The inside man at Eugen Corp—”

Franklin held up his hand. “I don’t want to know names or details.

Just get it done.”

“Of course.”

“And when it’s over, everyone involved needs to disappear.”

• 50 •

Oath Of hOnOr

Hooker winced as if Franklin had breached some unspoken rule

about what could be spoken out loud. Franklin almost laughed. As if

his security wasn’t the best in the world. Even Andrew Powell’s inner

sanctum wasn’t as secure as he thought.

“The only way to ensure secrecy is by guaranteeing silence,”

Franklin said softly. “I don’t care how you do it.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Hooker finally said. “And the targets?”

“I want the country to know Andrew Powell is not only soft on

terrorism and foreign affairs, his whole government is soft. When

the people see he can’t protect them, even within our own borders,

they’ll make the right and logical choice at the polls.” Franklin lifted a

shoulder. “I want a public forum, with media coverage.”

“Civilian casualties could backfire. Look at what happened in

Oklahoma.”

“The threat alone will be enough. And if there are casualties…”

Franklin waved a hand. “McVeigh and Nichols were amateurs.

Hotheads. That’s exactly the reason I don’t want to get involved with

another one of these militia groups.”

“You still need foot soldiers—more than that, you need followers

who are willing to sacrifice for the cause. You don’t have much

choice.”

“Then I want absolute containment. No breaches. No leaks.

Nothing that ties us to them or the events.”

“I understand.” Hooker’s eyes went flat. “You don’t need to

worry.”

“If we time this right,” Franklin said, “Powell’s standing will

plummet before his campaign even gets started. The groundswell of

negative publicity will bury him.”

“I’ll keep you informed.”

“Contact me by phone when you have more for me. Good night.”

Hooker let himself out, and Franklin turned off his desk light,

letting the room fall into shadow. Through half-closed eyes, he watched

the dim glow of Hooker’s taillights recede down the mountain into

the darkness. He was forced to consort with unsavory characters in

order to achieve his goals. That didn’t bother him. His was the path

of righteousness. Someone needed to take back control of the nation,

to redirect America’s course and restore her to greatness and power.

Someone needed to remind Americans of the true path. Andrew Powell

• 51 •

RADCLY fFE

needed to be removed from office. His daughter, who Powell flaunted

in the face of God-fearing people, was a sinner, even more so for her

insistence on pushing her unholy relationship in the faces of good

Americans. Blair Powell was becoming a national icon, and that too

must end. He wouldn’t rest until both were gone.

v

“So,” Evyn said, pushing her empty dishes aside and drawing her

coffee cup nearer, “do you come from a family of doctors?”

Wes carefully placed her fork beside her plate and reached for

her espresso. They’d spent most of the meal talking about the job—the

daily briefings between PPD and the WHMU, coordinating schedules,

protocol when POTUS traveled, security and medical preparation for

potential threats—safe topics. This one wasn’t so safe, and she was

a little surprised that Evyn, who had maintained a cool professional

distance all night, breached the neutral zone into something personal.

“Sorry,” Evyn said with no inflection, “is that a sensitive

subject?”

Wes shook her head. “No, it isn’t. Sorry. I was just thinking.” She

waited while the server cleared their places. “I’m the middle child,

more or less, of four, and the first in my family to go to college. My

mother and father were blue-collar workers. My mother in the garment

industry, my father on the docks. He died in an accident when I was

six.” “Hey, I’m sorry. If this is—”

“No, that’s okay. I have a great family. I grew up in my

grandmother’s house in South Philadelphia with my mother and my

sisters. It was pretty crowded, but it was…” She thought about the

shared bedrooms, the squabbles over the bathroom in the morning, the

big wooden table in the sunny kitchen smelling of home-cooked food,

counters crowded with dishes and everyone jostling for a place at the

table. “It was noisy and warm and full of life.” She smiled. “It was

great.” She looked up from her espresso. Evyn was staring at her as if

she were a stranger. She wondered what she had just revealed and then

realized it didn’t matter. She had nothing to hide.

“You miss them,” Evyn said softly.

• 52 •

Oath Of hOnOr

“Every day.” Wes’s chest tightened, as much from the tenderness

in Evyn’s eyes as from the memories.

Evyn sipped her coffee. “Okay—not following in the family mold

like me. Why did you want to be a doctor?”

Wes laughed. “You know, I practiced that answer a hundred times

when I was applying to medical school, knowing I would be asked about

it over and over again. I never did have a very good answer. I just knew

I wanted to touch people. Make a difference somehow.” She looked

out across the empty restaurant. They were the last ones at a table, but

the servers hadn’t rushed them and none were in sight now. They were

alone. She hadn’t been alone with a woman in longer than she could

remember. She didn’t date—given her circumstances it wasn’t that easy.

She might not necessarily agree with all the navy’s regulations, but

she followed them. Most women she might have connected with were

below her rank and off-limits. She sometimes thought that might be a

convenient excuse, but then, what did that matter. If she was fooling

anyone, it was only herself. No harm, no foul. And those rare nights

when she was restless and vaguely unsettled, she went for a run until

she was tired enough to sleep.

Wes caught herself up short. This wasn’t a date, even if the whole

evening was something out of the ordinary. Evyn was still watching

her. What had Evyn asked? Oh, the “why a doctor?” question. She