Неизвестный - 06. Honor Under Siege

“That’s it,” Blair snapped. “You have to talk to Cam.”

“I don’t have to do anything until I’m certain Valerie will be protected.”

“You don’t trust Cam?”

“Shh,” Diane warned, aware that Paula and Felicia had closed the distance behind them. “I don’t know who to trust, all right? I trust you. Just let me have a few days. Please.”

Blair bit back another angry retort, thinking that she would probably behave the same way in Diane’s position. Still, she wasn’t certain she trusted Valerie, not just with her best friend’s heart, but possibly with her life.

Chapter Nine

“It’s Cameron Roberts,” Cam said in response to the question called through the door. The thunk of the lock disengaging was followed by the door opening, and she was face to face with a panicked-looking Renée Savard.

“Is Paula okay?” Savard asked, her voice tight.

“Yes,” Cam said immediately. “She’s fine. Sorry, I shouldn’t have come by unannounced. I wanted to talk to you.”

“That’s okay,” Savard said, running her fingers quickly through her hair as she stepped back.

“Thanks,” Cam said. A quick visual sweep of the dimly lit room revealed closed drapes, an unmade bed, and a room service cart just inside the door. The food on the uncovered plate was mostly uneaten. The three bottles of Beck’s were empty.

Savard grabbed the cart. “Here, let me get rid of this.”

“I’ve got it.” Cam held the door open with one hand as she pulled the cart out into the hall. Then she followed Savard toward the two chairs and small table that comprised the sitting area. She noticed Savard’s limp first and then registered that she wasn’t wearing her knee immobilizer over her navy FBI sweatpants. The loose wrinkled white T-shirt was also FBI issue. Savard’s initial panicked expression had changed to one that Cam recognized as weary resignation. “How’s the leg?”

“Fine,” Savard avoided her eyes. She eased into one of the chairs without bending her knee.

“Going a little stir-crazy?”

Savard grimaced. “Been there and back.”

“How did you like being assigned to counterterrorism?” Cam asked as she took the chair opposite Savard at the little round table.

Savard blinked, then her body seemed suddenly infused with energy. She sat forward, her elbows on the table, her eyes fixed intently on Cam’s face. “Before 9/11 it used to bug me a little bit, how much time I had to spend at the desk on the computer, sifting through bits of data and chunks of memos, screening crazy tips from civilians about strange looking characters in their neighborhood.” She shrugged. “Still, when we identified persons of interest or traced messages to potential cells, I felt like I was doing something.”

“What about now? You said before 9/11.”

Savard averted her gaze again and slumped back in her chair. “I fucked up.”

“You did? You personally?” Cam had seen Savard close to coming apart when Stark had been hospitalized following exposure to a possibly lethal biological agent. Even as bad as it was then, Savard hadn’t looked or sounded like this. As if she’d somehow already given up on everything. “How do you figure that?”

“I was there, Commander. Not just in New York City, but right in the goddamn building that they hit. What kind of an agent sits in the target zone and doesn’t even have a clue about what’s coming?”

“I was in the Aerie,” Cam said, “and my only job—my number one priority—was to see that no one got close to Egret. I failed.”

“That’s not true,” Renée said sharply. “Blair’s alive because of you and your team. No one could have anticipated that kind of assault in the middle of Manhattan. Jesus, Foster was one of us.”

“That’s really the point, isn’t it? No one anticipated either of those events, which makes us all equally responsible.” Cam didn’t point out the very real differences between her degree of culpability and Savard’s. It had not been Renée Savard’s responsibility to anticipate disaster scenarios on a worldwide scale, but safeguarding the first daughter against any conceivable attack had been Cam’s. No amount of rationalization would change that.

“I know in my head what you’re saying is true,” Savard whispered. “But I still feel guilty.”

“Are things better or worse than a month ago?”

“It’s different. Then, I was just so angry. Now I feel…helpless.”

“Are you seeing anyone about it?”

Savard flushed. “Yes. Couple times a week, we’re talking on the phone.”

“Good,” Cam said briskly. “Then the only thing left to do is get you back to work.”

“I’m due for my final med check in a couple of days. Once I get cleared, I’m going to call the SAC where I was last assigned and try to find out if I’ve still got a job there.”

“I’ve got another suggestion.”

Savard’s eyes brightened. “What?”

“How would you like to work with me in homeland security?”

“You’re moving over?”

Cam nodded. “Officially as of today.”

“In what capacity?”

With a sigh, Cam confessed to the title she’d rather not use, but understood was part of the package. “Deputy director of counterterrorism.”

“Oh man,” Savard whispered. “And you can take me with you?”

“I’ve got the green light to handpick my core agents.” Cam grinned. “Kind of a special ops thing.”

“Yes. I’m in.”

Cam laughed. “I haven’t outlined what you’ll be doing.”

“I don’t care. When can I start?”

“How does tomorrow sound?” Cam stood. “0700, room B-12 in the West Wing.” At Savard’s look of surprise, she said, “Temporary quarters, just until we get organized.”

“Looks like I need to get some clothes.” Savard glanced down at her sweats. “I just brought hanging-around stuff. I guess Paula will have to take me shopping tonight.”

“Since that’s what she’s been doing all afternoon with Blair and Diane,” Cam said with a straight face, “I’m sure she’ll be eager to do a little more.”

Savard smiled, some of the pain lifting from her eyes. “She’ll probably hate it, but she won’t complain.”

“Better woman than me,” Cam muttered as she started toward the door. Turning, before she exited, she said, “See you in the morning, Agent Savard. And welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, Director Roberts.”

“Make it Cam.”

“Yes ma’am. Commander.”

With a shake of her head, Cam walked out into the hall. She had a few more people to talk to, a few calls to make, and then she could go home. Home to Blair. She smiled, liking the sound of it.

The phone rang in a room two floors below Stark and Savard’s. A broad-chested, trim-waisted man with an upright, military bearing strode across the room and picked up the receiver. His dark button-down collar shirt and black pants were pressed and wrinkle-free. On some men the clothes would have appeared casual. On him, they were a uniform.

“You’re right on time. I hope you have something useful to report.”

“Nothing yet, I’m afraid.”

The general smiled thinly. “How is it that one of your own people, someone you presumably control, can evade you so successfully?”

“Lawrence is a chameleon. She was trained to be elusive and is very good at it. But we’ll find her. For now, I have someone watching the girlfriend.”

“We don’t even know that Lawrence is trying to make contact with her.”

“We have reasonable Intel that they’re lovers. That’s not her pattern with women, so I suspect she’ll try to contact her.”

His smile disappeared. “It’s a long shot, but I suppose it’s the best we have at the moment. It’s your job to improve those odds. I want her silenced before the rest of our operation is compromised.”