Неизвестный - 06. Honor Under Siege

• Название: 06. Honor Under Siege
• Автор: Неизвестный
• Жанр: Прочая старинная литература
• Год: 0101

---

“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.

“Ms. Powell will ride with you,” Paula said, leaning down to the open driver’s window of the first vehicle. “I’ll advise as to route once we’re in motion.”

“Yes ma’am,” the driver, a fresh-faced blond with a military style haircut, said sharply.

Paula walked back to the plane. When she’d contacted the Washington team, she’d outlined three potential motorcade routes from the air force base to the White House. Blair was vulnerable on the road in any type of vehicle, even with bulletproof glass and armored plating. Something as simple as a suicide driver in a tanker truck loaded with gasoline could kill her.

Once again, this was standard operating procedure, but Paula was uncomfortably aware of not totally trusting anyone outside of her immediate team. She did not welcome the feeling that no one, even those she should be able to trust implicitly, was above suspicion any longer, and she feared the situation was the new status quo.

With a nod to Hara and Wozinski, she started up the stairs to the plane. The pilots had not powered down the engines, remaining prepared to take flight again on her word if anything appeared amiss.

“Clear to disembark,” she reported to the marine who had accompanied them in flight. He saluted and went forward to advise the pilot and copilot while she waited on the narrow platform at the top of the stairs, shielding the door and any view of Blair with her body.

Inside the cabin, Felicia stepped to one side so that Blair and Cam could pass. She then moved up behind Blair.

“You should let Renée go down first, Paula,” Blair said, halting at the top of the stairs. “She’s going to have trouble on the stairs with those crutches.”

“Let’s proceed to your vehicle, Ms. Powell,” Paula said. “Hara can give Agent Savard a hand in a moment.”

Blair started to protest, then felt a gentle touch on the base of her spine just as Cam whispered, “You’re not secure here. Let’s go.”

“God, now I’ve got two of you ordering me around,” Blair muttered, but she started down behind Paula. As soon as she reached the ground, Hara and Wozinski closed in on either side, and with Felicia behind, the agents formed a protective ring around Blair and Cam as Paula led the way to the first vehicle. An agent Blair didn’t recognize opened the rear door and she and Cam climbed in.

“We’re in the middle of a United States Air Force base,” Blair griped. “The marine unit that protects my father and the White House is stationed here. What in God’s name could happen to me walking from the plane?”

“It doesn’t matter where we are,” Cam said quietly. “We’re at priority one.”

Blair sighed. “And I’m sure Stark realizes you’re watching her every move. I’ll be lucky if she lets me take a breath without permission.”

“I’m not watching her every move,” Cam said. “I already know that Stark knows what needs to be done. And she knows that too.”

“Sorry.” Blair peered out through the smoked bulletproof glass. Felicia had apparently returned to the plane after Blair was secure in the vehicle, and she and Hara crossed the tarmac toward the second car with Renée between them. Paula and Wozinski headed toward their vehicle. “I’m edgy.”

Cam took her hand. “I know. It’s okay.”

Paula climbed into the rear, Wozinski into the front.

“Would you still like to go directly to the White House, Ms. Powell?” Paula asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Paula keyed her transmitter to contact the drivers of both vehicles. “Destination Alpha, route Delta.”

The Suburban accelerated smoothly and quickly away from the runway, and Blair settled back for the familiar ride.

“Are you okay?” Cam asked.

Across from them, Stark looked out the window, her expression remote. Cam knew from experience that she could hear their conversation, but by means of some unconscious filter cultivated by most Secret Service agents for their own comfort as well as that of their protectees, she would not register the meaning of the words.

“I just want to find out what onerous chore Luce has planned for me now. It’s been a while since I’ve had a command performance, so I imagine she needs a visible White House presence somewhere.”

Cam wasn’t happy with that thought. Ordinarily, Lucinda tapped Blair when the White House wanted to make a statement, the kind of declaration that the president couldn’t make himself for political reasons—such as offering support for a pro-choice charitable organization or attendance at a fundraiser for a beleaguered political ally. Sometimes, the White House just needed a presence at a media-worthy event, and Blair was always popular. She was beautiful, well-educated, and personable. She was a great standin for her father. And her status made her a great target.

“Now isn’t exactly the time to be parading you out in public,” Cam observed.

“What?” Blair focused on Cam, aware of the tight thread of disapproval in her tone. “Do you want me to sit in a dark room somewhere for the rest of my father’s presidency?”

“That might not be a bad idea.”

In the past they would have fought about it. As it was, Blair struggled with her temper and her overwhelming need not to be controlled. She’d spent all her life resisting the efforts of others to safeguard her at the cost of her independence. She’d resisted Cam, too, for months, even as she tried to seduce her. She’d wanted to prove that she didn’t need to be protected, and she’d wanted to undercut Cam’s authority over her. Unfortunately, her plan hadn’t worked. She’d fallen in love, and although she hadn’t realized what that meant at first, she did now. Loving, being loved, was a responsibility. The decisions she made now didn’t just affect her, they affected Cam’s life, too. So she took a breath and listened to what Cam hadn’t said. Cam was worried for her.

“Remember you said yourself we couldn’t stop living,” Blair said. “We can’t let whoever tried to destroy us think they’ve frightened me into hiding.”

A pulse pounded in Cam’s neck. “I wasn’t talking about putting you on display somewhere when I said that.”

“You don’t know that’s what Lucinda wants.”

“She’s gearing up for your father’s reelection campaign. She’s not going to put that on hold no matter what’s happening on the international scene.” Cam consciously relaxed her hands, which had tightened into fists. “And you’re going to be a great campaign asset.”

“Darling, I’ve never been a great campaign asset. I’m the wild child, remember?” Blair laughed, thinking of the international debacle that would have resulted if her affair the year before with the French ambassador’s wife had come to light. “My security chiefs spent half their time trying to keep me out of the press, not in it.”

“Not anymore.” Cam trailed her fingers down Blair’s cheek. “You’re as close to a first lady as this country has. And the public loves you.”

“Let’s just wait and see what she wants,” Blair said, but she had an uneasy feeling that Cam might be right. She’d taken a back seat during her father’s run for the presidency, but she wouldn’t be able to do that again. She wanted him to be reelected. The country needed him. And if he needed her, she might have to get used to campaigning. She found Cam’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m not the first lady. I’m just your lady.”

“When did you figure out just what I needed to hear?” Cam murmured, kissing Blair’s temple.

“I’ve been practicing.”

“You’re doing well.”

Blair smiled. “Yeah? How well?”

“Want to keep Lucinda waiting for an hour or two?”

“Yes.” Blair leaned closer to Cam. Dropping her voice, she whispered, “You’re not the only one who’s been suffering while you recuperated.”

“Then it’s probably going to take me more than two hours to make it up to you. It might take me all night.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to suffer a little while longer.” With a satisfied expression, Blair leaned back and closed her eyes. “Because I don’t intend to hurry.”

When Emilio, assistant to the White House Chief of Staff, directed Blair and Cam into Lucinda Washburn’s office, Lucinda was on the phone. Blair waved to the commanding looking woman with the stylishly coiffed, silver-streaked black hair. As usual, Lucinda wore a conservatively styled jacket and skirt, plum colored this time, offset by burnished gold jewelry at her ears and throat. A single large, square cut emerald in a plain gold setting adorned the ring finger of her right hand. That, Blair noted, was new.

Lucinda paced in front of a wide walnut desk covered with neat stacks of folders and memoranda. When she caught Blair’s eye, she mouthed coffee and pointed to a credenza against one wall.

Blair signed, you too? and at Lucinda’s nod, proceeded to pour coffee into three China cups. She handed one to Lucinda and then carried the others to the sofa across from Lucinda’s desk, where Cam was waiting. They sipped in silence as Lucinda expertly pressured whoever was on the phone.

Her tone was even and unmistakably edged with flint. “Listen Tom, I really don’t care if Charlie has to walk all the way from Chicago. He owes us that vote and I expect him to be here tomorrow morning for roll call.” With a faint smile, she concluded, “Either that, or he’ll find himself pushing that school tax referendum up a long steep hill all by himself.”

Lucinda listened for another few seconds, said, “Wonderful,” and hung up. Then she crossed the room and settled into one of the brocade Chippendale chairs facing Blair and Cam. “Good flight?”

“Military transport isn’t known for luxury,” Blair said.

“True,” Lucinda conceded. “But they’re reliable.”

“Well, I’m here now, so what do you need?”

“I’d forgotten how much you enjoy small talk.” Lucinda turned to Cam. “How are you feeling?”

“Better every day.”

“Judicious answer.”

“Luce,” Blair said impatiently. “I was having a really nice morning when you called. A walk on the beach, and then I was planning on going back to bed. Once there, I intended to sedu—”