Radclyffe - Honor Guards

Slowly, Cam slid her left hand over until her fingers met Blair's. "I see you, Blair. Even when I'm working. I always see you."

"I'm sorry." Blair smiled wryly. "God, I can't believe I'm jealous of your job now."

"I think being together takes a little getting used to."

Blair laughed. "You think?" She slid her sketch pad into her portfolio and secured her drawing pencils. "I am completely new at this. I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing." She glanced at her lover, who regarded her seriously. "The only thing of which I'm entirely certain is that I want us to be together."

"Then we are in complete agreement." Cam stood, lifted her left hand, and advised her agents of their departure.

The service entrance opened into a warren of storage rooms, with a bank of elevators at the end of a long hallway. Next to the elevators, a sign marked the stairwell. The man in the electrician's uniform pushed the bar handle, and the stairwell door opened soundlessly. With steady steps, he began the climb to the roof.

In the main lobby of the building, two bored French security officers lounged behind the information desk, conversing with the receptionist who relayed calls to the various offices and provided directions to those visitors who might need them.

Francois Remy glanced at his watch. "Do you want to do the first walk-through or do you want me to take it?"

Henri Bouchard shrugged. "I'll take this one, and you can have the next."

"Good enough."

Henri set out to take the elevator to the fifteenth floor to commence the inspection of the building. His route would wend from one end of each hallway to the other and down the stairwell between floors. Most of the offices were occupied, and he would spot-check those, particularly the ones facing the Institut Gustave-Roussy. He sighed as he watched the numbers above the elevator doors count down to one. Such a lot of fuss for one woman. If she weren 't an American. ..

When the man with the toolbox reached the fifteenth-floor landing, he found a door to his left that led to the corridor and offices. To his right, a narrow staircase led up to a single gray steel door at roof level. He made his way up and paused a few steps below the door. A red sign warned that any attempt to open it would trigger a central alarm.

Unhurriedly, he set down his toolbox, opened it, and removed a set of screwdrivers, a wire stripper, and fine needle-nose pliers. Working quickly but coolly, he removed the faceplate from the alarm box, inspected the simplistic design to ensure that no backup alarms had been added, and rerouted the signal around the door connection. Then he replaced the faceplate, secured his tools, and pushed open the door. It had taken him exactly six minutes to reach the roof from the street.

1200 16Aug01

RedDog in position

CHAPTER SIX

A t precisely 1200, Bouchard stepped off the elevator at the east end of the fifteenth floor and headed down the corridor at a steady pace. From behind partially open doors came the low murmur of voices and the insistent hum of myriad electronic devices. He paid particular attention to the offices on the north side of the building, the ones that faced the wide boulevard below and the medical complex opposite. At that morning's briefing, he had been given a list of locations on each floor that posed particular security concerns, but a thorough check suggested nothing out of the ordinary. When he reached the west end of the hallway, he pushed open the fire door and stepped out onto the six-by-six-foot landing. To his left a steep, narrow staircase led upward, and he climbed several stairs to get a clear look at the door to the roof. As he knew from the building specs provided to his team by the captain, the door was alarmed. If the circuit was disrupted, a switch on the main board in the reception area in the lobby signaled an alert. His partner was at that moment watching those monitors. Satisfied that nothing was amiss, he started down the stairwell to the fourteenth floor. He checked his watch as he reached the next level and nodded, pleased to note that he was right on schedule.

"We depart at 1530," Cam said as she walked Blair to the door of her suite. It was hard to leave her again so soon, but they both had jobs to do. "I'll be in the comm center until then if you require anything."

"That's fine," Blair replied softly, mindful of the other agents close behind. "I want to change and make some phone calls." Lowering her voice even further, she met Cam's eyes. "Thank you for last night, and for these last few hours."

Cam nodded. Briefly, she touched Blair's hand and then turned toward the room across the hall. By the time she reached the door, Blair had disappeared.

Inside, Cam walked directly to Mac, who was in his usual place in the center of the electronic activity. She pulled over a stool and sat beside him, ignoring the flickering monitors with their dizzying kaleidoscopes of shifting images. Her only interest was the stack of computer printouts by his left hand. "What do we hear from the media?"

"Well," Mac answered, leaning back in his swivel chair, "it's not above the fold, but the article made the front page in most major cities stateside."

"As expected," Cam noted grimly. "Have you heard anything from the White House?"

"Lucinda Washburn called and left a message for Egret to call her ASAP." Mac gave Cam a sideways glance- "I didn't think it was necessary to interrupt you in the field."

"Thanks. I think she needed a bit of a break." Cam gave him an appreciative smile. "I'll pass on the chief of staff's request."

Mac merely grunted. He had nothing against Lucinda Washburn, arguably the second most powerful person in the country, but his sole allegiance was to the team. And to Blair Powell. "I expect that the White House press secretary will make some kind of statement at the afternoon briefing."

"I suppose once Aaron has officially addressed Blair's announcement, every major news outlet will pick it up." Cam sighed. "I don't expect we'll see much media response at the hospital today, but she has the meeting with the minister of health and the representatives from the WHO in the morning. That's going to get some coverage."

"You know," Mac commented, "Egret's status in the administration is closer to first lady than first daughter, since she fulfills so many of the obligations that would have been her mother's responsibility."

"Yes. And because of that, she is much more visible to the world at large." And much more vulnerable, both thought, but neither said. Cam's gaze hardened. "We have to consider her at high-alert status at all times."

"Roger that, Commander."

"Our advance teams are on-site?"

"Yes, ma'am. I should have the first reports soon."

"Good. Keep me advised. As soon as the lead team arrives, we'll brief."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Anything out of the ordinary, anything at all, from any source—I want to know."

"Yes, Commander."

Paula Stark jerked awake and blinked furiously. Her first thought was bright. Very bright. She closed her eyes. She next recorded an unusual sensation beneath her cheek. Soft. Warm. She drew a breath. Smells good. Cinnamon? She opened one eye a slit. An image of a long-necked giraffe tilled her vision. Closing that eye again, she rolled onto her back, registering that she was indeed lying supine and that her head was propped on something yielding, but firm. Warily, she peered .upward, finally focusing on the blue eyes a couple of feet above her own that regarded her with gentle amusement.

Stark blinked. "Renee?"

"You were expecting perhaps someone else?"

Stark blinked again. The last thing she could clearly remember was the commander telling her to stand down until the afternoon briefing. Then she had called Renee, told her she had a few hours free, and they had agreed to have breakfast together. "Uh-oh. Breakfast?"