Radclyffe - Honor Reclaimed

A second passed while Stark struggled to compose her features, but finally she surrendered and laughed. "Uh, no, that had never crossed my mind."

"Well, just so you don't think that I'm always so easy."

"I think there's nothing easy about the position you're in," Stark said seriously. "And the only thing I want to do is make it as uncomplicated for you as possible."

Blair leaned her hip against the railing, her expression contemplative as she considered Stark's uncomplicated honesty and essential goodness. "You know, I owe you an apology."

Stark looked confused. "I'm sorry?"

"For that night in Colorado."

"No, you don't," Stark said. "Everything that happened that night was mutual."

"You're not blushing. I don't even know how to interpret that."

"Let's just say I'm not embarrassed about something that will always be very special."

To her consternation, Blair found herself blushing. "Well. Thank you."

"Renee doesn't know."

Blair smiled. "And she never will unless you tell her."

"She doesn't seem to care about the past all that much."

"Smart woman."

"Yeah," Stark said with a sigh. She sipped her coffee and studied the empty beach. "I feel bad because sometimes I wish she weren't an FBI agent."

"That makes sense to me. I bet there's times she wishes you weren't a Secret Service agent, either."

Stark nodded. "She said something like that this morning."

"And I don't imagine either one of you is planning on retiring."

"No. Not likely." Stark straightened, shaking off the melancholy. They'd strayed far beyond the boundaries dictated by their professional relationship long ago, and although she welcomed the friendship, she also had a job to do. "So, we should discuss your agenda for the day."

"My agenda?" Blair grimaced. "Anything that will keep my mind off where the hell my lover is and what trouble she's getting herself into."

"I'm sure the commander will be fine," Stark said with absolute certainty. "Anyhow, they're probably spending the whole day meeting with one committee after another."

Blair narrowed her eyes. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I wouldn't," she admitted, "except I can't see anyone staging any kind of action so quickly. It takes too much planning, and there's going to be too many people who want to be in charge." Stark shook her head. "I'm sure they'll be meeting with the president's security advisers and maybe the head of the Intelligence committee. That's it."

"Dial the White House on your secure line," Blair said.

Stark blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I want to talk to Lucinda, and I know that no one is supposed to know where we are. So scramble it for me."

"Uh, that's probably not the best idea—"

Blair laughed. "This is where you get to be reminded what a pain in the ass it is being my security chief. Because I can call anyone I want to anytime, anyplace. So if you don't want me to use the phone in the living room—"

"Just one minute, Ms. Powell," Stark said formally, opening her phone. She rapidly punched a series of numbers and held it out to Blair. "There you go."

"Thank you," Blair said sweetly. As Stark started to walk down the steps, apparently to give her privacy, Blair added, "There's no need to go. This involves you too. Hello, Luce? It's Blair."

"Blair. Everything all right?"

"No problem. Well, unless you take into consideration that I'm in hiding because my lover doesn't trust anyone, including you."

"I think for the time being it's reasonable to allow Commander Roberts to make those decisions. The president has every confidence in her."

"Uh-huh. Everyone thinks she's superhuman. That's sort of why I'm calling. All this confidence everyone has in her. Where exactly is my lover?" She gripped the railing as she waited for the answer and heard only a faint buzz in the background.

"I'm afraid I don't have an answer on that at the moment. I can assure you, however—"

"Is it that you don't want to tell me or you can't tell me?"

"Both, and by now, you should know the reasons why."

Blair thought she heard a sigh, but she couldn't be certain, and it would certainly be out of character. Before she could demand more information, Lucinda spoke again.

"If you call me back in approximately two hours, I may have more to tell you. That's the best I can do, Blair."

Blair looked at her watch. "Don't go anywhere. I'll call back in exactly two hours." She hung up and looked at Stark, whose face was a study in barely suppressed anxiety. "I don't think they're in a meeting."

Chapter Thirty

T he helicopter set down in a small unpaved landing zone in the middle of a forested area where three other Little Birds, fully equipped with combat troops, waited on the ground. A fuel truck bounced across the rutted field, and when the lieutenant jumped down to supervise the refueling, Cam reached beneath the narrow bench and extracted one of the protective vests. She tossed it to Savard and released another from its restraining clip for herself.

"We let the commandos sweep the front line. I imagine there are more men like the four who hit the Aerie in this camp. You weren't there that morning, but these guys are well trained and very well armed."

"You and your team handled them pretty well, Commander." Savard's eyes glittered with a dangerous combination of adrenaline and anger. "Without body armor."

"We were lucky." She didn't think there would ever come a day when she didn't see Foster with his service weapon leveled at Blair's chest. She pushed the image from her mind. She wanted justice. Even more, she wanted retribution. But not at a price that Blair would ultimately have to pay. "We're here to see that these men don't get away with treason and terrorism. We're here to see it, not do it."

"I'm going in with my weapon drawn." Savard's gaze lost focus as she remembered the very earth tremble beneath her feet as the Towers came down. "They'll never be able to pay enough for what they did, no matter how small a part they had in it."

"If you've got something to prove, Agent," Cam said quietly, "this isn't the place for it. We bring up the rear, once the area has been cleared. That's an order."

"Yes, ma'am," Savard said smartly.

A clean-shaven redhead of about forty clambered into the helicopter. "I'm Major Simons, in charge of this operation. We'll be airborne in five minutes."

Cam held out her hand. "Cameron Roberts, Secret Service." She indicated Savard. "Renee Savard, FBI."

"Agents," the major nodded. "Flight time is thirty-five minutes. We're working off satellite photographs, but we've got a pretty good picture of the layout. We're going to put down right outside their front gate. I would imagine there'll be sentries posted, if the vehicles we've been able to identify there are any indication of their organization. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a U.S. Army installation."

"Weekends are when these guys like to play soldiers. There may be a full complement of personnel down there." Cam presumed the strike had been organized so quickly precisely because it was Saturday and Matheson and most of the officers were likely to be present. "Do you have any idea of the numbers?"

Simons shook his head. "A flyby is too risky, because this place is well away from any commercial or tourist routes. Any kind of aircraft would be suspicious. The latest satellite reconnaissance images suggest thirty to forty individuals."

Cam's head count of the troops on the Little Birds put their number at somewhere around twenty-four. Pretty good odds. "If he's there, we need their commanding officer alive."

The major's eyes were flat black disks, devoid of expression. "Then I guess he'd better not put up a fight."