Honor Bound h-2 Page 11

  "Could be worse duty," Savard commented.Or worse company.

  She was enjoying her posting with the Secret Service more than she had imagined. She missed the prevailing sense of urgency that permeated everything the FBI seemed to do, even if it was just a routine wire tap, but she couldn't deny that Roberts and her team ran a tight, organized operation. And she also had to admit that Paula Stark was an interesting combination of straight-arrow dedication and startling naivete. She couldn't help but wonder if her refreshingly unsophisticated counterpart really had no clue as to how attractive she was or the fact that other people might think so. Savard reminded herself to stop watching Stark's butt and keep her eyes on the main target, who, come to think of it, had a very nice butt herself.

  At that moment, Stark was doing the same thing, but without quite the same appreciation. The Commander and Egret were a few feet ahead of her and neither of them looked like they had even broken a sweat. In between ignoring the pain in her calves and attempting to look consumed with zeal for this madness, her primary responsibility for the day was crowd surveillance. Another nearly impossible chore, but a far more achievable goal than pretending enthusiasm for the next god knew how many miles.

  The entire team had been provided with photos of the people expected to be in Blair's immediate vicinity during the run - primarily the race organizers, representatives of various cancer organizations, and political dignitaries from the city, state and national level. When she occasionally spotted someone she did not recognize, she radioed a verbal description to Mac in the communications van that was following behind the mass of runners, and more often than not, he made an immediate identification. If there was any question or concern, she could beam him an image from her handheld personal unit. He and several other agents conscripted from the local office for this particular event had been on site since daybreak, quietly photographing individuals as they arrived in the park. Then they ran all unknowns through computer links to the DMV, Armed Forces directory and the State Police files. She didn't know for sure, but she assumed that the FBI were doing the same thing from their own van as well. It would have been more efficient to combine their search capabilities, but the FBI hadn't offered access to their data banks. So much for interagency cooperation.

  Not all of this was routine. The fact that Egret was now considered a high-risk subject dictated the extra precautions. Stark shifted the weight of her pistol in the quick release fanny pack she wore and said a small prayer of thanks as they crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan. She looked ahead, never so grateful in her life to see the Bowery.

  Cam kept pace to Blair's right and just a half step behind her, a vantage point from which she could see anyone approaching from the right, left or rear. What she was watching now, however, was Marcy Coleman lean close to say something to Blair, her hand resting casually in the small of Blair's back. It might have been a friendly gesture, but Cam didn't think so. Not from the way the blond doctor had been looking at Blair for the last few miles.

  Cam had seen Blair with other women before. Hell, she'd seen her have sex with other women. It had been different then. She hadn't particularly enjoyed watching Blair have casual sex with strangers, the biggest reason being that she had always thought Blair exceptional. She couldn't help thinking that Blair deserved something more than anonymous couplings. But it hadn't been her business then, and she had been able to put it out of her mind enough to work around it. The problem now was that she carried the imprint of Blair's skin burned into her nerve endings. She had surrendered to her and taken her and she knew the wonder of holding her when she was completely without her usual defenses. Now it was intolerable to see another woman touch her.

  She looked away, scanning the nearby faces, forcing herself to review yet again the details of the rest of the day. She settled back into a comfortable rhythm, mentally and physically, as she took refuge in her responsibilities. They were approaching Fifth Avenue now, and before too long they would enter the south end of Central Park. Once there, security would be at its most difficult, and Blair would be at greatest risk. The park was always filled with people - runners, bladers, people pushing strollers, and tourists of all size and description. Students picnicked on the grass and lovers trysted amongst the outcroppings of rocks. The race ended in Sheep Meadow, a huge open field where a stage had been erected and equipped with sound and video for the closing activities. Blair, the Mayor, members of the American Cancer Society, and a few celebrities would be speaking from there.

  It was an impossible area to isolate and contain. Blair would be exposed on the podium the entire time, particularly so when she gave the keynote address. The anticipated crowd would number in the thousands. The New York State Police would be providing the NYPD with additional troops for crowd control. That would leave the Mayor's security detail to concentrate on the area directly around the speaker's stands. Cam had met the Mayor's security chief and she was good. That was a plus. She intended to make full use of all of them.

  Her mental planning was interrupted as Blair dropped back to run next to her.

  "Are you enjoying yourself, Commander?" Blair asked. She was actually surprised to find thatshe was. She loved the exercise, but the event itself took a toll on her emotionally. It reminded her, even after all these years, of the horrible year when she was nine and everything in her life seemed to change overnight. She focused on Cam's face and let the memory slip away. "Beats sitting in front of the video monitors, wouldn't you say?"

  "It's a beautiful day," Cam agreed, smiling when she looked at her because she couldn't help it. There was a faint sheen of sweat on Blair's face, and her T-shirt was damp between her shoulder blades. She looked healthy and strong and altogether beautiful. "Can't complain about a chance to spend a day like this outside."

  "Un huh," Blair acknowledged with a slow smile, thinking that Cameron Roberts had to be the most naturally graceful, physically striking woman she had ever seen. And at the moment, there were shadows in her deep gray eyes. "Then why do I get the impression you'd rather be elsewhere?"

  "I'd ratheryou be elsewhere," Cam responded immediately.

  Blair shook her head, frowning slightly, but her eyes were dancing. "You are nothing, Commander Roberts, if not doggedly persistent."

  Cam's eyes became even more serious as she answered, "I assume you want me to tell you the truth, Ms. Powell. Especially when it affects you."

  Blair's chin came up and her voice was chilly. "I do, Commander. I just wish you'd tell mebefore you decide on something. Especially when it affects me."

  Cam looked ahead, checking their position. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then, for a moment, she looked nowhere but at Blair. "I know. I'm sorry."

  "Yes," Blair said dryly, taking no comfort from that admission. "You said that before."

  "I'll need to review a few things with you once we arrive at the stage," Cam said steadily. She needed to keep them both focused on what was important for the moment. Later, later somehow, they would talk.

  "I'll try to spare a minute or two," Blair answered.

  Then she picked up her speed and rejoined Diane and Marcy Coleman.

  *

  The area around the viewing stands was controlled chaos, just as Cam had expected. Sound and video technicians were crawling over the surface of the stage, running last-minute cables and adjusting microphones. The Mayor was taking every occasion for photo ops, and there were more press people jockeying for a comment than Cam would have liked. All of the reporters were easily identifiable by their badges, but it was a simple matter to counterfeit those things.

  "Let's go up the back way to the stage," Cam suggested as she and Blair approached. "There are too many people in front."

  "I at least need to make an appearance here first," Blair said matter-of-factly. At Cam's frown, she added gently, "I am identified with this event. The American people know my life story, and the story of my mother's death. I'm here because I'm identified with this disease, and I nee
d to be seen. It's expected."

  "You'll be seen by millions of television viewers in about twenty minutes," Cam pointed out as she took Blair's arm lightly and started to move around to the side of the high temporary stage. "That will have to do."

  "Cam," Blair said quietly.

  Cam stopped in her tracks at the sound of her name spoken as only Blair could say it.

  Blair touched Cam's arm briefly, continuing softly, "He doesn't want to hurt me. If he did, he wouldn't be sending me the messages he's been sending."

  Cameron looked over the faces in the immediate vicinity, imprinting each on her mind. She saw Stark and Savard already posted at opposite corners of the stage and Mac in conversation with the Mayor's security chief. She was satisfied that all was as it should be.

  Then she looked at Blair, and there were no barriers in her eyes this time. No professional distance, no orders or rules or protocol between them. "I don't know what he's going to do. I don't know when he's going to do it. I don't know nearly enough." She struggled not to touch her, and for the barest of instants, she brushed her fingertips over Blair's hand. "Blair, I just want you safe."

  "Yes, I know," Blair responded, no anger or resentment in her voice. She could not argue with the honest caring in Cam's face. It wasn't how she wanted it - it was not what she wanted from her - but it was real nonetheless. "And you've done what needs to be done to ensure that. Now, I need to go and do this."

  Cam nodded, knowing she would never be comfortable with it, but accepting that Blair would not let this threat interfere with her life or her responsibilities. "Let's go see the Mayor, then, Ms. Powell. You'll make the photographers a lot happier than he will."

  Blair smiled. "Why, thank you, Commander."

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Blair stepped to the podium, Cam was positioned to the right rear, just a few feet behind her. Stark and Savard were at ground level directly in front of her, and several FBI agent's on loan from the New York office were interspersed in the crowd near the stage.

  Mac, coordinating the various teams from the communication van, was linked by radio to Jeremy Finch, the driver of Blair's car; to Ellen Grant, in the second back-up vehicle; and to the Mayor's security chief as well as the NYPD crowd control captain. As it turned out, for that sort of affair, it was proceeding without a hitch. The audiovisual equipment actually functioned; the speakers were keeping to their preplanned schedule; and the hundreds of people scattered about in Sheep Meadow were surprisingly orderly.

  Blair had exchanged her running gear for warm up pants and a dry T-shirt in one of the tents, as had Cam and the others, and she looked casually stylish as she faced the mass of onlookers. When she began to speak, the sound of cameras clicking fluttered through the crowd like something alive.

  While part of Cam's attention was completely focused on crowd activity in the area within visual range of Blair, another part listened to her speak. She had a beautiful speaking voice, warm and strong and somehow soothing. Cam knew the story, of course. Everyone did. A man could not run for the presidency of the United States and have something as critical as his wife's valiant battle with breast cancer not be a prominent issue during the campaign. This personal tragedy was part of his image, part of his public face, no matter how private the pain. And because her father's life was open to intense scrutiny by virtue of his position, Blair's loss became public knowledge, too. Blair Powell had secrets she guarded, but this was not one of them. To fight this war, she had willingly exposed her deepest anguish. She spoke eloquently, urging lawmakers to allocate funds for treatment and diagnosis, exhorting women to practice vigilance and to be their own best advocates, and, above all, encouraging every person touched by the disease to never lose hope.

  Cam thought she was magnificent.

  When Blair finished, she turned away from the podium, and Cam stepped immediately to her side, careful not to touch her but walking close beside her toward the rear of the stage and the shelter of some overhead canvas tarps.

  "Are you all right?" Cam asked quietly, because she had heard the tears beneath the noble words. Although she had rarely seen Blair shaken, she could sense her fragility now. There were some things that always hurt, no matter how many years had passed. "Can I get you anything? Some water? You were standing in the blazing sun up there for half an hour."

  Blair glanced at her, aware of what Cam wasn't saying and grateful to her for not remarking on the fact that she was shaking. "So were you," she pointed out.

  "Yes," Cam murmured, passing her a bottle of water, "but I had sunglasses on."

  Blair laughed softly. "Well, that explains it. I'm all right, but I'd like to get out of here now."

  "Of course." Cam spoke into her microphone quickly. "Egret is flying."

  Blair smiled wearily. "Egret is actually dragging, but carry on, Commander."

  "Destination?" Cam asked as they moved down the steps and across the field toward the waiting cars parked along the far edge of the grass. The meadow itself was large enough that the vehicles were actually quite a distance away on one of the main roads running north to south through the park. Cam wasn't happy about that, but it was the terrain she'd been given to deal with. Stark and Savard fell in behind them and Mac, upon hearing Cam's announcement, radioed the drivers to prepare for departure. "I'd like to inform the drivers where you need to go."

  She asked as casually as she could, and hoped she sounded only professionally interested. She was acutely aware of the fact that Blair had spoken privately to both Diane and Marcy Coleman just before she had joined the other speakers on the stage. Cam assumed that she was making plans for the rest of the day. She had tried hard not to consider the particulars of those plans.

  "Home," Blair responded. Diane had invited both her and Marcy over to her apartment for dinner and drinks, but she had decided to pass. It had been a long day and a longer week. She didn't have the energy for conversation or the desire to deal with Marcy's obvious interest. She might have to deal with it soon, but not when she knew her emotional armor would already be breached. She'd need a little time to garner her defenses again.

  "That was quite a speech," Cam said as they walked. "They were right to have you give it."

  Blair smiled, pleased despite her weariness. "Thank you."

  Cam merely nodded, anxious to get Blair into the safety of the waiting car. They were thirty feet from the vehicles, Stark and Savard keeping pace to either side, when they heard someone call out, "Blair!"

  Blair looked back over her shoulder, then stopped as Marcy Coleman hurried toward her.This could be awkward, she thought, very conscious of Cam beside her. She didn't want to have a personal conversation with Marcy in front of her. It shouldn't have mattered, and she was well used to ignoring her security guards, just as they were well schooled in appearing totally deaf and blind under such circumstances. She had no doubt that Cam would behave as if nothing were happening, but Blair would know she could hear. She wasn't sure what Marcy would say, or precisely how she herself would respond. Shewas certain that she didn't want to deal with a request for a date, no matter how delicately worded, in front of Cameron Roberts.

  "Sorry," Marcy said, suddenly flustered as she looked at the cadre of Secret Service agents loosely ringing Blair. For the first time it was abundantly clear to her just who she had been trying to seduce.Jesus. "Diane told me you weren't coming by later, so I thought I should give you this."

  She held out a white envelope, smiling uncertainly when Blair regarded her with a slightly confused expression on her face.

  Cam listened with half an ear to the vehicles starting their engines behind them while thinking that the attractive doctor was making a very serious attempt to capture Blair's attention. She tried to tell herself that her annoyance was merely due to the hiccoughing coming from the motor of one of their cars. She'd have to speak to Mac about the maintenance schedule. She couldn't have Egret's vehicle breaking down.

  Blair took the envelope and was about to
tuck it into her fanny pack when Marcy added, "He said you'd want to look at it right away. That you'd know whom it was from."

  Blair faltered, staring from Marcy to the envelope. "He?"

  "Wait," Cam ordered sharply, about to reach for it when the significance of the engine's stuttering finally registered. She grabbed Blair, shouting, "Everybody down!" just as the air exploded with heat and thunder.

  Blair was momentarily stunned by the noise and shaken by the force of being thrown to the ground. She heard Cam's voice, raw and urgent, as she was suddenly being dragged away by Stark and Savard.

  Get her out Get her out GOGOGO!

  Blair was too confused and shocked by the sight of the burning car to resist until she saw Cam running not in the direction the other agents were evacuating her, but in the opposite direction, directly toward the inferno.

  "No!" Blair cried, struggling to escape the hands that restrained her as the second vehicle careened to a halt beside them and the doors flew open. As Stark pushed her into the back of the car, Blair had only a fleeting glimpse of Cam stepping intentionally into the blaze and reaching for what remained of the door on the flaming wreck.