Radclyffe - Price of Honor

Mac gave her an appraising look. “You’re press corps, aren’t you?”

Viv smiled down at Dusty and grasped her hand again. “Yes, but this is personal.”

“Yeah,” Dusty said, not caring who was watching. “Very personal.”

*

Cam regarded Gary Williams. With his well-cut hair and bland good looks, he could have been any of a dozen reporters on the White House beat. Except that he sat on a bench in the lounge next to the command car in his dark suit pants, wet shoes, and wrinkled pale blue dress shirt with his hands cuffed in front of him. Two ERT agents stood guard at either end of the car. “What’s your real name?”

He stared straight ahead.

“Gary is actually your last name. Youngest child of Augustus Gary. How about your first name?”

His jaw clenched.

“We’ve got three assault teams readying to go after your sister. You might want to take this chance to reason with her.” Cam held up a phone. “Tell me about your plans to attack the president, who’s behind it, and you’ll earn a call.”

His dark eyes flicked to Cam. “She won’t change her mind.”

“I know the three of you didn’t plan this on your own—I doubt it was even your father’s idea. Where is the money coming from? Who’s pulling the strings behind the scenes?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Now is the time to help your sister,” Cam said quietly. “She’s not going to win this fight, but she doesn’t have to die. Help me so you can help her.”

He shook his head. “She wouldn’t thank me.”

“Not today, maybe, but—”

Tom Turner burst in from the adjoining car. “The drones are active.”

Cam turned her back on Gary Williams. The time for testing the field with pawns had passed. The battle was on. “Deploy the assault teams.”

Chapter Thirty

Blair paced in front of the window fronting the cabin’s wide front porch. Someone had started a fire in the stone hearth on the far wall, and the room smelled of sweet pinewood smoke. The place would have been rustic-homey under any other circumstance. Two agents holding assault weapons stood on either side of the walkway leading up to the cabin. Paula was still in the command center in the adjoining room, monitoring what little communication was coming from the train. Her father and Lucinda were in a makeshift office at the far end of the hall.

Communication techs from the local Secret Service office had arrived and set up a secure room to keep her father in contact with DC. No one knew what was going on out here, and no one ever would. As far as anyone knew, her father had simply chosen to leave the train for a little private R&R. Now he was probably carrying on business as usual.

Business as usual. That’s what Cam was doing now too. Putting her life on the line again. Risking herself for others. Blair gave herself a mental shake. She’d never really believed that a change in Cam’s job description would change Cam or what she felt compelled to do in the line of duty. Added to that, Lucinda would never let Cam get very far away from the president’s security needs, and Cam would never want to be very far away. All that meant their life would never be without risk. She could never wake up in the morning and not feel a few seconds of fear that something would happen to threaten everything that mattered to her.

She turned away from the window, annoyed with herself. None of this was news. Cam, her father, Paula, Lucinda, every agent back on the train or here at the cabin did what they needed to do day in and day out because that’s what they had signed on for. She might not have had a choice about her life when she was only her father’s child, drawn into the tangle of politics and pressure that came with being the first daughter. But she’d married Cam with her eyes wide open and her heart as well. Lucinda was right. Cam was the best there was. And she trusted Cam to take care of herself and the love they shared.

The sound of vehicles approaching drew her back to the window. Her heart lifted as the convoy of SUVs came up the snowy drive and parked in a ring in front of the cabin. Doors opened, a flood of armed agents emerged, and she raced to the cabin door.

Cam reached her when she was halfway across the porch. Blair didn’t care who was watching. She threw her arms around Cam’s neck and kissed her hard. Cam’s arms circled her waist, holding her tight.

“It’s over?” Blair asked.

Cam brushed her cheek with a bare hand. “Yes. Are you all right?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Blair said softly. “You?”

Cam nodded. “Never better.”

“The train?”

“Everyone is fine.” Cam let her go. “I’ll have to see your father now.”

“I know. Can I come?”

“Of course.”

“I love you, you know.”

Cam grinned. “I’m counting on it. Every minute of every day.”

*

“She withdrew the drones?” Andrew Powell said.

“Yes,” Cam said, “forty-five minutes after our last communication they lifted off and flew to the coordinates you’d provided. The bomb containment unit is on it now.”

“She couldn’t sacrifice her brother,” Blair said.

“No,” Cam said. “She couldn’t.”

“What about her?” the president asked.

“We’ve got teams out on foot, in the air, and on the roads.”

Andrew gave Cam a penetrating stare. “What are the chances of finding her?”

“Fifty-fifty.” Cam sighed. “She has a head start, she’s undoubtedly a trained survivalist, and she likely had an exit plan already in place. It’s rough territory out there and the storm’s not helping.”

Blair said, “What’s the chance she’ll try again?”

“Tom and I agree,” Cam said, “the chance of another up-close attack on the president is small. At this point, she represents the same threat level as any other UNSUB, and we’re well prepared for that.”

“So you’re not going to cancel the rest of the tour?” Blair asked.

“We can’t,” Lucinda said. “There’s far too much advance press and investment in the scheduled appearances. We’d never be able to give a plausible explanation for cutting things short.”

“The train is already en route to the next stop,” Cam said. “The press secretary gave a statement to the press corps about the president’s unscheduled departure from the train. We’re using the old national security excuse for not briefing them any further. We’ll all meet up again in Trinidad and carry on.”

“Vivian knows about Gary Williams,” Blair pointed out. “And she knows what happened out there.”

“This time the national security card is a legitimate one,” Lucinda said. “I’ve already talked to her by phone. She understands the situation.”

Blair nodded. Vivian was someone she could trust.

The president asked, “Did Gary Williams give you anything?”

Cam shook her head. “He didn’t put up a struggle when we went to pick him up, but that was the extent of his cooperation. I don’t think he’ll talk.”

“Like his sister Jennifer.” Blair sighed. “I wish this trip was over.”

“I might as well add to the misery,” Lucinda said. “Franklin Russo has decided to capitalize on all the press around the president’s trip. He’s staging an appearance opposite the president’s in Flagstaff. So, of course, you and Cam will have to be there onstage to power up our finale.”

“Political maneuvering,” Blair said. “It never ends.”

Lucinda smiled. “That’s the name of the game, after all.”

“When do we head out for the train?” Cam asked.

“Later this afternoon.” Lucinda glanced at the president. “I think everyone has earned a few hours’ rest.”