Неизвестный - 06. Honor Under Siege

with two fingers extended and heard car doors open and close. Hara and Wozinski should be on the ground now too. Unfortunately, it was late afternoon and would be dark soon. They were also heading toward the Mall, which was exactly where she did not want to be at night.

“Can we compromise?” she urged. “Can you just sit somewhere, and I promise we’ll disappear.”

Blair laughed abruptly and looked past her to Hara and Wozinski. “The three of you would stand out in a crowd, no matter what you were wearing. Out here, you might as well be waving a sign saying ‘we’re government agents.’”

Paula pointed to a bench. “There’s a great spot right by the reflecting pool.”

“And with three people, you can easily watch my back and flanks, and unless the creature from the Black Lagoon comes up out of the pool, you don’t have to worry about a frontal approach.” Blair recited the tactics flatly as she quickened her pace. She sat down on the white stone bench, gripped the cold edges with her fingers, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t angry with Paula. Making Paula’s job harder wasn’t going to ease the hurt and fury that stormed with equal measure inside her.

She couldn’t believe that Lucinda had summoned her to Washington to ask her to spy on Diane. No, actually she could believe it. She’d seen people in power compromise their principles often enough, but she hated to think that the people she loved, Lucinda and her father, would sacrifice trust and fidelity to achieve their goals. Maybe that’s why she’d fallen in love with Cam. Because Cam was always so clear about which side of the line she stood on. Cam did not compromise.

“Paula?” Blair said softly as the sun went down.

“Yes ma’am?” The reply came from somewhere behind her.

“Would you call Cam and tell her you’re with me. She’ll worry.”

“Right away.” After a moment’s silence, Paula added, “Can I tell her when we might be back?”

“In a little while,” Blair murmured.

She should go back. Cam wouldn’t be satisfied with a phone call. It didn’t matter that she knew Paula was capable. It didn’t matter that she knew Blair was safe. She needed to see that for herself. Blair sensed that Cam already felt powerless with Paula in command and that she was having trouble adjusting to the change in their relationship. She loved Cam for wanting to protect her and care for her, even though that wasn’t why she’d fallen in love with her or even what she needed most from her. Trying to change that about Cam would be denying what made her who she was. And making her needlessly uncomfortable was just unkind. She could be furious at her father and Lucinda just as easily at Cam’s condo.

“Paula?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Would you ask her to walk down to meet us?”

“I don’t think she’ll be able to, ma’am. She’s in a meeting with the president.”

Blair’s stomach tightened. So there was more. Of course there was. Lucinda didn’t fly her down here just to solicit a little snooping between girlfriends. Cam was a trained investigator. Cam had been Valerie’s lover. Cam was talking to her father. Alone.

Cam never turned down an assignment, never stepped away from her duty, never put her own safety first.

Blair stood abruptly and strode from the park, Paula and the other agents close behind.

Cam had given enough. And so had she.

Sybil Gretzky, the personal secretary to Andrew Powell, smiled at Blair as she entered the anteroom to the oval office. “Hello Blair.”

“Is my lover still with my father?”

Sybil’s smile never faltered. “Agent Roberts is with the president, yes. Would you like me to ring through?”

“Sorry,” Blair said, realizing she’d been saying that all day. She wasn’t just edgy, she needed to pound something. “Yes, please.”

She walked to the wide windows and looked out into the Rose Garden. It was so beautiful in the spring, with everything in bloom, but so desolate in the fall. Cold and a little barren.

“Let me take you in,” Sybil said.

“Thanks.”

Her father stood to greet her when she came in and kissed her cheek.

“You feel cold,” Andrew Powell said.

“I’ve been out walking.” Blair settled onto an antique sofa and glanced at Cam, who sat in a chair opposite her father on the other side of a low coffee table. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Cam rose and walked around the table to sit next to Blair. “Okay?” She touched her fingertips briefly to Blair’s leg, then put her hand back in her lap.

“Sure.” Blair regarded her father. “I know there are some things we can’t talk about, but Cam is my partner. She almost died ten days ago. What more can you ask of her?”

Andrew Powell, in his early fifties but looking a decade younger, with thick wavy hair and blue eyes the exact color of Blair’s, regarded her with an expression that might have been sympathy or regret. “We need good people, Blair, especially now. And Cam is one of them.”

Blair shook her head. “How many times? Is there a quota on bullet holes? Concussions? Because she’s had her share. More than her share.”

“Blair,” Cam murmured. “Let’s hear what the president has to say.”

“I’m not talking to the president,” Blair retorted. “I’m talking to my father. That counts for something, doesn’t it, Dad? Just a little?”

“I’m your father,” the president said. “It means everything.”

“But you’re still going to ask her, aren’t you? For whatever job needs doing, no matter what it might cost.”

Andrew Powell shifted his gaze to Cam. “You can say no, no questions asked. No one will think less of you.”

Blair snorted. “That’s because the people giving the orders are sitting safe behind some desk somewhere. They don’t have the balls for anything else.”

Cam waited.

“Three weeks ago,” Powell said, “I established the Office of Homeland Security. I expect within a year the office will become a Cabinet department. We’re drawing from all sectors of domestic and foreign security to fill the critical positions.”

“Field posts or administrative?” Cam asked.

“Both.”

“Answering to whom?”

“For now, to the Director of Homeland Security—who answers to me.”

“Anti-terrorism?” Cam asked, very aware that she was interrogating the president, and he was allowing it. She wondered how much that had to do with her relationship with Blair. Quite a lot, she imagined.

“That and border security. Possibly Customs. We’ll work those things out as we finalize the Cabinet level responsibilities.”

“Why can’t the security agencies we already have handle anti-terrorism?” Blair asked. “The CIA, the FBI, the military security divisions. God, how many are there?”

“A lot, and that’s part of the problem,” the president said. “We obviously need to centralize and oversee intelligence gathering, analysis, projections—the whole thing. And we need to be able to respond with effective, organized force.”

Cam leaned forward. “On domestic soil?”

Powell’s face hardened. “If need be.”

“It’s going to take some doing to get the FBI, CIA, DOJ, and military intelligence to play together,” Cam observed.

“I know that. And time is something we don’t have.” He stood and walked to his desk, then returned to his seat with a thick folder. “We’re organizing a number of special teams immediately, drawing from personnel across security divisions. I’d like you to head one, Cam.”

“On behalf of the Secret Service?” Cam asked.

The president shook his head. “Obviously, all of this is for your ears only, but I expect we’ll move the Secret Service completely into Homeland Security within the next few months. I want you as one of the new deputy directors of the OHS.”