Radclyffe - Word of Honor

“That wasn’t my intention,” Blair snapped. She rose abruptly and took one step toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that fronted the Esplanade before realizing that she’d made that trip across Lucinda’s office in anger or frustration a dozen times before. Not once had the journey ever helped her understand why her private life was of such interest to so many, and it never changed the outcome of whatever Lucinda had decided to do about it. She regarded Lucinda. “How’s my father taking it?”

“We haven’t drafted his official statement—”

“I don’t care about the party line.” Blair hoped Cam couldn’t see her shaking. She hated that her life was something that required her father to consult with his advisers before commenting.

“I’m sorry,” Lucinda said gently. “Your father feels exactly the same way today as he did when you first told him. He supports you, and he plans on attending.”

“That’s a very bad idea,” Cam said immediately.

“As is usually the case, Commander,” Lucinda said wryly, “I agree with you. However, you may have noticed that it’s a Powell family trait to do exactly as they please regardless of what their advisers recommend.”

Blair sank down beside Cam. “I’ll ask him not to come.”

“You certainly can,” Lucinda said, “but I don’t think it will change his mind.”

“We haven’t factored a presidential presence into our advance planning,” Cam said. “Stark’s team hasn’t—”

“Tom Turner sent his people to Colorado several days ago. I suspect they’ll liaise with Mac Phillips and Ellen Marks today.”

“And Stark hasn’t been informed?” Cam said incredulously. “That’s a complete breach of protocol.”

“These are unusual times,” Lucinda said. “The president’s security adviser wanted it done this way. While in Colorado, President Powell’s security chief will command the total operation.”

“I don’t like it,” Cam said flatly.

“No, I didn’t think you would, and I imagine that Agent Stark will agree with you.” Lucinda lifted her hands. “On the other hand, it’s not negotiable.”

“Tom is a good man,” Cam went on as if Lucinda hadn’t spoken, “but he isn’t used to the kind of personal security that Blair requires. No one gets as close to the president as they do to Blair.”

“Agent Stark will remain in charge of Blair’s personal detail, unless there is an emergent situation.”

“Which is exactly when Blair would need the best coverage.” Cam shifted on the sofa and took Blair’s hands. “Blair, I know what this means to you. It means a lot to me too. But I think we should postpone.”

Blair studied their joined hands, then met Cam’s gaze. “All right.”

Lucinda crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. “A month ago you would have made me very happy. Unfortunately, we can’t back out now because too many eyes are watching. Plus, we can’t have it appear as if your father is capitulating to the vocal right.”

“You can’t force us to get married,” Blair objected. She ran a hand through her hair. “This is unreal. All of a sudden, you want me to get married.”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Lucinda rose, walked to her desk, and called her assistant. “Emilio? Is Dana Barnett here yet? Send her in, would you?”

“Dana Barnett,” Blair said. “Isn’t she—”

“A reporter for the Washington Chronicle . Yes,” Lucinda replied as Emilio held the door open for a woman of average height and build in wrinkled tan chinos, a white T-shirt, and a shapeless black V-neck sweater. She wore mud-encrusted combat boots and needed a haircut.

Her collar-length chestnut hair was shaggy and her deep brown eyes shadowed with fatigue. Despite her casual attire, she moved briskly and swept the room with sharp eyes that appeared to take in everything with one glance.

“Ms. Barnett,” Lucinda said. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Dana’s eyebrows lifted almost imperceptibly. “You’re welcome,” she said in a resonant alto. “I just got off a plane, so forgive my informal attire.” She nodded in Blair and Cam’s direction. “Good morning, Ms. Powell. Deputy Director Roberts.”

“Good to meet you,” Blair said. She and Cam stood, and Blair held out her hand. “Where are you in from?”

“The Middle East,” Dana said somewhat evasively. She glanced at Lucinda. “I didn’t get much of a briefing, just that you wanted to see me.”

“I told the people at the paper I’d fill you in,” Lucinda said. She gestured to the seating area. “You must be tired.”

“No, actually, I spent the last six hours sleeping on the floor in the hold of a military transport plane. I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

Blair thought what Dana Barnett hadn’t said was that she’d rather be anywhere else but there. She could almost feel her bristling. From what she knew of Dana’s reputation, she was a hard-hitting investigative reporter who covered controversial topics in every corner of the globe. She didn’t doubt that Dana’s assignment in the Middle East had to do with terrorism.

“Since you’ve been out of the country,” Lucinda said smoothly, apparently oblivious to the edge in Dana Barnett’s manner, “you may not have heard that Ms. Powell and the deputy director are getting married next week.”

“Congratulations,” Dana said, her eyes wary.

“As you can imagine,” Lucinda said, “there is a great deal of media interest in the entire event. To facilitate information flow and spare Ms. Powell and the deputy director undue attention, we’ve decided to allow one reporter total access to the first daughter for the duration of the event. Exclusive coverage commencing with the preplanning stages.”

Dana slid her hands into the pockets of her chinos and glanced from Lucinda to Blair. “I can recommend several excellent lifestyle reporters who would—”

“That won’t be necessary. You’ve got the job.” Lucinda smiled.

“Luce,” Blair said, “can we talk for a minute, please?” The last thing Blair wanted was a reporter in her face twenty-four hours a day. It was bad enough to have twice a day press conferences.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Cam said.

Blair stared at her. “What?”

“It will limit your exposure if the members of the press realize that you’re not available to make impromptu comments, and it will allow us to determine when and how you’re interviewed.” She nodded. “It’s a good idea.”

“It’s a lousy idea,” Blair retorted.

Dana Barnett folded her arms, an amused expression on her face.

“I realize you’ve just come off an arduous assignment, Dana,” Lucinda said. “We’ll arrange transportation for you to Manhattan tomorrow. You can start then.”

The smile on Dana’s face disappeared. “I’m afraid I really can’t—”

“I haven’t agreed—” Blair interrupted.

Lucinda glanced at her watch. “And I’m late for a meeting with the budget committee. Thank you all so much for coming.” She reached across her desk, grabbed a stack of folders, and walked out.

Blair and Dana stared after her.

“Son of a bitch!” Dana and Blair exclaimed simultaneously.

Cam, wisely, said nothing.

Chapter Four

Dana took a deep breath and smiled ruefully at the first daughter. She’d seen her in photographs and on television before, of course, but she’d never met her in person. Dressed casually, with her hair loose and her temper showing, Blair Powell was even more beautiful than her media image projected. Dana had always admired her for her subtle disdain for political games and her tendency to be outspoken regardless of the party line. And the fact that she had become more candid about her sexual orientation in the last year had earned Dana’s respect. As a reporter, Dana had a healthy regard for the power of the press to make or break careers as well as sway public opinion. It was refreshing to meet someone so close to the seats of power who didn’t seem to care, although handling her press relations must be a nightmare for the White House.