Radclyffe - (Honor 4) - Honor Guards

by Radclyffe

  As people made notes and shuffled papers, Cam set her PDA down beside her coffee cup and placed both palms flat on the table. She leaned forward slightly, and when she said, "New developments," everyone immediately sat slightly forward in their folding chairs and gave her their complete attention.

  "At approximately 0500 stateside—1100 hours local time— a news article will be released containing a personal statement from Egret that states she is romantically involved with another woman."

  Cam surveyed every individual in the room. No one moved. Not a single eyebrow flickered. Satisfied, she sipped her coffee and collected her thoughts.

  "The effect on our current situation is uncertain at this time. I expect that by the end of the day the news will have been disseminated internationally. It will definitely be a topic for discussion, but my concern is whether it will be a catalyst for any kind of action involving Egret." She looked at her new political analyst. "Parker?"

  Cynthia Parker, early thirties, solidly built and confident, took her time replying. Her dark brown eyes, a shade richer than her hair, were focused and calculating. "I wouldn't expect an organized protest for at least twelve hours after the peak of the media exposure. In Paris in particular, sexual orientation and activity is not a hot button. I don't think we're likely to see much fallout." She shrugged. "The previous administration's sex scandal was a joke over here. Hell, most of Europe was laughing at us for even noticing who the president screwed."

  "Agreed." Cam looked to Mac. "We'll need to increase our crowd control response."

  "Roger that."

  "It's also possible she'll be confronted by individuals at some of her upcoming venues," Cynthia continued, her gaze holding Cam's. "Possibly even socially."

  "That's a personal matter which I'm sure that Ms. Powell will handle as she sees fit." Cam's voice was even and controlled, but she felt a surge of anger that Blair might be faced with even further invasion of her privacy. She knew without a doubt that Blair could handle any comments or questions, but she hated that her lover would need to. It was just another instance where Blair's personal life was on display and where others felt that because she was a public figure it was appropriate to question her about private matters. Cam drew a breath and pushed aside the anger. She needed to focus on her job.

  "What about fundamentalist group reaction—religious opposition, right-wing cells?" Cam was not worried about picketers. While she did not want Blair harassed or embarrassed or accosted in any way, protestors were usually more of a nuisance than a threat. Usually. She was concerned about the groups with paramilitary or terrorist affiliations. A direct assault was not going to come from the established right-wing political parties, regardless of their doctrine. These groups were infiltrating the political structure through mainstream bureaucratic channels, helped by their increasing popularity in recent elections. Of much greater concern were the underground extremist groups, especially in light of increasing intelligence that these groups were forming loose coalitions across racial and religious lines.

  Cynthia replied immediately. "Reports show no increased activity over baseline for the last six months within the major cells operating in Western Europe. The Austrian Freedom Party, Sweden's White Aryan Resistance, the Flemish Bloc in Belgium— all of them are fairly visible and their communications are constantly monitored. There's nothing coming over the wire to suggest any focus on Egret." She appeared to consider her next words. "But that intel is only as good as our sources."

  "Mac?" Cam asked. "What do we have from the Central Security Service on extremist activity in this area?"

  "I can't be certain that we're as up to date as we might be, because channels from that direction tend to run slowly," Mac stated. A momentary flicker of displeasure crossed his smooth features and was gone. The intelligence community was a huge network of interfacing agencies, each of which dealt with a portion of national and international intelligence. Many functioned under the umbrella of the National Security Agency, but every agency from the CIA to the FBI and individual military intelligence branches gathered information through their own networks. Theoretically, that information was pooled, distilled, and then disbursed to those who needed to know, including the Secret Service. Mac received bulletins directly from the NSA and CSS around the clock. "But I haven't gotten any alerts/'

  Nodding, Cam turned her attention to their steganographer, Barry Wright. "Anything locally of concern?"

  "Nothing specific, just a worrisome increase in traffic in general." Barry was a new breed of cryptographer. He spent the bulk of his time monitoring the Internet, analyzing sites known or suspected to be shields for communication between individuals, radical groups, and even governments involved in right-wing or terrorist activities. The most common way to transmit "hidden" messages was to insert them bit by bit into jpeg image files, called "cover" images. The recipient then deconstructed the image code and put together the camouflaged message. It was a sophisticated and time-consuming encoding and decoding process, but very difficult for intelligence agencies to detect. "There's been a buildup in chatter over the last six months, but nothing that's come together as a coherent picture. No hits on Egret other than the usual notices of her travel plans,"

  A muscle in Cam's jaw bunched. Blair's schedule—hell, even the president's schedule—was posted on the official White House Web site for anyone to read. The Secret Service protested the practice vigorously, but the media consultants had won the point.

  "Okay then," Cam said briskly, closing her handheld and putting it away. "First team—I'll advise when I've checked with Egret regarding her morning schedule. Have the cars ready and a backup team available."

  "Yes, ma'am," Stark replied sharply.

  As the agents stood to disperse, Cam said quietly, "Stark-wait a minute, please."

  Surprised, Stark stiffened. "Yes, Commander."

  Once they were alone, Cam refilled her coffee and raised an eyebrow at Stark, who shook her head. Sipping hers, Cam leaned back against the sideboard. "You're off duty until 1500,"

  "But—"

  "You'll be in the lead car, first team for her hospital tour. I want you fresh."

  Stark knew better than to protest again. "Yes, Commander."

  "Tell Felicia the same thing."

  "Uh..." Stark's pulse shot into the stratosphere.

  "The coffee cups steamed up the windshield," Cam remarked blandly. "Next time you're doing street surveillance, drink it cold."

  Stark's face went from red to white in less than a heartbeat.

  Cam placed her cup careiully on the stack of dirty dishes next to the coffeemaker. On her way to the door, she added, "You can tell Felicia thanks, too."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  0930 16Aug01

  Query RedDog: Do you read?

  RedDog: Roger, team leader You have green light 1600 IGR Confirm

  RedDog: 1600 IGR Green light

  Good hunting Godspeed Team leader out

  Outside in the hallway, Cam nodded to Felicia and Reynolds. "You're relieved, Agent Davis. Check in with Stark."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Cam knocked on Blair's door and a moment later, it opened. "Good morning, Ms. Powell. May I have a moment?"

  Blair smiled. "Of course, Commander. Please come in."

  Once Cam was inside, Blair closed the door and locked and chained it. Then she turned to where Cam waited only a few feet away and stepped into her waiting arms. With one hand clasping the back of Cam's neck, Blair leaned into her and kissed her. Then she drew away and lightly ran her fingers along Cam's jaw. "You're tense. Difficult meeting?"

  ''You 're frightening." Cam made a conscious effort to relax her shoulders. No one except Blair would know by looking at her, or very probably even by touching her, what she felt. Blair, however, could read her body and her mind with alarming accuracy. "Just the usual briefing."

  "Uh-huh." Blair walked a few feet away, sat on the broad arm of the sofa, and leaned against the back. She wore a blue silk
robe, belted at the waist, and her hair was still damp from the shower, finger-combed and falling freely around her face. "I'd like to sit in on one of those morning chats some time."

  No, you wouldn't. Cam considered her answer, and then decided to go with the simple truth. "It's your prerogative, but I'd rather you didn't."

  "I'm not surprised." Blair tilted her head and studied her lover, who looked drawn, as she often did when a public outing was scheduled. Blair knew the risks, and she knew the additional pressure it put on Cam to ensure her safety. "I think I know why you're tied up in knots, but I'd rather not guess. Want to tell?"

  Sighing in surrender, Cam crossed the room to sit on the sofa by Blair's side. On the way down, she grabbed Blair and tumbled her into her lap. With an arm around her lover's shoulders and one at her waist, Cam nuzzled her neck. "I really like you in this robe. You look exactly like you did the first morning we met, except I couldn't touch you then. But God, I wanted to."

  "You're trying to distract me," Blair murmured as Cam leaned over until they were nearly reclining face to face. She slid her hand inside Cam's jacket and ran her hand down Cam's side. "I'm beginning to recognize that tactic, Commander Roberts."

  "Busted. I'm in trouble for so many reasons." Cam kissed her then because she was beautiful, and she was vital, and she was everything that made Cam's life worth living. "I love you so much."

  Blair's heart skipped a beat. "Amazing. You have no idea what hearing that does to me."

  "I know what feeling it does to me." Cam rested her forehead against Blair's and closed her eyes. There were moments when she wished they were anywhere else, anyone else. She wished that they never needed to walk out the door, and if they did, that she would never need to look over her shoulder for some dark force that might sweep into her life and in the space between two breaths destroy everything that mattered to her. Most of the time she could separate herself from those fears. She was trained to deal with reality and not to dwell on possibility. But there were times, when Blair was in her arms and she felt nothing but total completion, that she couldn't keep the dread at bay.

  "Cam?" Blair's voice held a concerned note. "You're shaking."

  Cam took a long slow breath and pushed up on the sofa as Blair swung her legs around until she was sitting beside her. "Sorry."

  "Want to tell me what that was about?" Blair took Cam's hand, folded it between her own, and rested their joined hands on her thigh. She loved Cam's hands. They were bold and strong and incredibly tender, just like the woman herself. "Sweetheart?"

  "I'd rather not. It was just one of those...passing things," Cam said gently. You'll feel responsible, and you don't need to be burdened by something else you can't change.

  Understanding privacy, Blair simply nodded, but she'd seen the pain. "All right. Then back to the initial question. Why don't you want me at the briefings?"

  Cam eyed Blair with obvious exasperation. "You are the most single-minded, relentless, and all too frequently annoying individual I have ever met."

  Blair smiled sweetly. "That's another stall tactic. You're not going to goad me into an argument."

  "We talk about you." The words came out with a combination of apology and anger. "I don't want you to hear that."

  Surprise showed in Blair's eyes. "Cam, I know that you talk about me."

  " I talk about you," Cam said quietly. "You think you don't like my command voice when we're together? You'd really hate it in there."

  "And you think... what? If I heard you discuss Egret with your team that I'd feel like I meant less to you?"

  Cam looked away briefly, then brought her eyes back to Blair's. When she did, there was uncertainty and unease in their dark depths. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't want to risk it."

  Shaking her head, Blair turned and drew her legs up onto the couch until she was kneeling by Cam's side. She took Cam's face gently in both hands and tilted her head until their faces were inches apart. Her gaze bored into Cam's. "Listen to me. I know what you do. And I know what they don't know, Cameron—what they'll never know. I know your fear, and I know that you can't let them see it." She kissed her, tenderly at first and then with fierce possession. She felt Cam's hands on her back, pulling her down until she was once again in Cam's lap, her arms around Cam's neck. When she drew her mouth away, she murmured, "I know that you have to go away from me to do what you need to do."

  "No," Cam said swiftly, her voice strained. She took Blair's hand and placed it over her own heart, cradling it there. "I'll never go away from you. Not ever."

  "That's good," Blair sighed, resting her cheek against Cam's shoulder. "Because I'm starting to count on you being around."

  "Good thing." Cam rested her chin against the top of Blair's head, feeling the melancholy drift away. Blair brought her not just peace, but the joy of being known. "Because I pretty much plan on sticking around."

  "You want to take a walk with me?"

  "I'd love to."

  Outside, Cam and Blair walked together ten feet ahead of the three agents who accompanied them. Blair carried a small portfolio in one hand. Her hair was down and she had changed into blue jeans, a navy polo shirt, and sneakers. Had they not exited from the Hotel Marigny, the residence reserved for state visitors, Blair could easily have passed for any other tourist. Cam carried nothing, needing to keep her hands free to access her weapon. Despite the fact that her jacket concealed a wrist mic, a radio pager, a cell phone, and her automatic in a shoulder harness, she appeared so casual that she might have been a tourist as well.

  "Do you mind if we don't take the main avenue, but stay on the side streets on the way to the gardens?" Cam asked, her gaze traveling over both sides of the thoroughfare ahead.

  Blair hooked her left hand through the crook of Cam's arm. "Not at all. I'm not in the mood to fight with the crowds on Champs Elysees at the moment." She took a deep breath of the warm summer air and sighed with contentment. "It's beautiful this morning, and I just wanted to be outside for a while."

  "They're still renovating a large part of the Tuileries Gardens, apparently," Cam remarked. "It's not likely to be as crowded as some of the other areas because of that."

  "I know. It doesn't really matter where I am, as long as I have a few hours just to relax."

  "If you want to be alone—"

  "No," Blair said quickly, squeezing Cam's arm. "Not from you. From...all the rest of it."

  "Then I'll keep you company while you sketch." Cam smiled. "I think I told you that I used to spend hours with my mother and her friends when they were working. She always had a studio in the house, and she often had students who spent weeks—sometimes months—with her. I modeled now and then."

  "Did you?" Blair gave Cam an appraising glance. "Commander Roberts, you are full of surprises. Would you pose for me?"

  "Of course."

  "Nude?"

  Cam's right eyebrow rose. "If you wish."

  "On second thought," Blair mused, "I'm not sure I'd be able to concentrate." She gave Cam another look. "Would it excite you, to pose for me nude?"

  "Yes."

  "I think..." Blair's face took on a contemplative expression, "that I'd like to tell you which part of you I'm touching as I draw. Would you be able to feel my hands on you?"

  "Yes." Cam's voice was deep and heavy, echoing the pulse of excitement in the pit of her stomach. "You'd know—you'd see the flush on my skin and my nippl—"

  "Stop!" Blair gave a small groan. "God, I really shouldn't be thinking about that out here. But I'm not going to forget the offer."

  "You needn't worry. I won't renege." .

  From the Rue de Rivoli, they turned onto a path that led into the huge expanse of the once-gracious gardens of Catherine de Medicis. Many of the formal plantings and trees had been destroyed by blight over the ensuing five centuries, but an intensive replanting had been underway for close to a decade, and much of the beauty had been restored. Near one of the large octagonal fountains, Blair found a bench that was free and
relatively secluded.

  "Okay?"

  "Looks good," Cam agreed, and with a subtle murmur into her mic, she deployed her agents before sitting down beside Blair on the bench. The air was warm and she would have removed her jacket, but couldn't because of her weapon. She was used to that inconvenience and quickly forgot it.

  "I think this is one of my favorite things to do," Blair commented as she withdrew a sketch pad and pencils from her portfolio.

  "Sketch outdoors?"

  "Mmm," Blair was already bent over her sketch pad, making swift, sure lines across the paper. "Especially with you nearby. You really don't mind?"

  "No, it's one of the most enjoyable things that I've ever experienced. I'm reminded—"

  "What?" Blair looked up, concerned by Cam's pensive tone. "What, sweetheart?"

  Cam shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just thinking that it reminded me of my childhood in Italy. It was..." She shrugged. "I guess like most people's childhoods, it was sometimes idyllic and other times unbearable."

  Blair reached across the space between them and ran her hand down Cam's arm until she reached her fingers, which she lightly clasped. "I love you."

  Cam smiled, squeezed Blair's hand, and then let it go. "Draw, Ms. Powell."

  Blair smiled. "As you wish, Commander."

  At 1150, a thin, dark-complected man with short brown hair, wearing gray coveralls and carrying a small toolbox, walked down the narrow alley behind a fifteen-story office building. His stride was confident, his carriage comfortable, as he walked up to the service door. A keypad was set into the door frame, and he unhesitatingly punched in a series of seven numbers. Then he reached down, grasped the knob, which turned easily in his hand, and slipped inside.

  "Blair," Cam said quietly.

  "Hmm?"

  "It's almost noon."

  Blair did not look up, but continued drawing for another few moments. Then she set the pencil down beside her and eased her cramped shoulders. Running a hand through her hair, she looked out over the gardens. Here and there groups of tourists or families strolled about with cameras, expressions of excitement on their faces. She turned to her lover, who sat with her long legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed, arms down by her sides, her hands loosely curled around the edge of the bench. If Blair didn't know better, she'd think Cam was completely relaxed. She would also bet any amount of money that Cam knew the exact placement of every individual within her sight range, how long each had been there, and exactly how long it would take any of the three invisible agents to reach Blair's side. "Are you able to enjoy any of this?"