by Radclyffe
"You don't have any idea what this does to me, do you?" Blair said incredulously.
"It was just routine, Blair," Cam began. "I--"
"Do you have any idea how I felt watching you get hit that day?" Blair said in a low, tormented voice as if Cam hadn't spoken. Almost as if Cam was no longer there. "Do you know what that did to me to see you lying on the sidewalk, blood pouring from your chest, knowing you were dying? Knowing I couldnt touch you--couldn't stop it? That I was losing you, too?"
Cam's face drained of color. Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, “Yes. I know."
Stunned by the transformation in her usually imperturbable lover, Blair suddenly realized what she had said, and she knew, too, that Cam had experienced almost the same thing the day her lover had died. "Jesus, Cameron, I'm sorry. I didn't think."
Cam held up her hand. "No. It's all right." She cleared her throat, chased the demons away. "I never realized...I'm sorry. I would never want you to go through that again."
"I can't seem to get used to you putting me first," Blair said, leaning forward, her fingers touching Cams hand. "Not just physically--all of it. It will take a little practice."
"I don't put you first just because of the job, Blair," Cam said emphatically. "I do it because I love you, and I know that if the situation called for it, you'd do the same."
Blair nodded, knowing Cam was right. It wasn't so much about who protected whom, but much more about the urgency they both felt to keep the other safe. She would die before she let anyone harm Cam.
"Just don't get hurt, OK?" Blair said, her voice breaking.
"I won't. I promise."
As the vehicles turned off the road into the airport, they smiled at each other, peace following in the wake of trust.
*****
Once on the plane, after everyone was situated, Blair asked Cam, "Are you going to open that envelope?"
Cam regarded the still unopened package and shook her head. "Not yet. There may be some kind of forensic evidence on the contents. I'd like to open it somewhere where it can be examined properly."
"Do you know of someone you can trust to do that for you?"
"Maybe. Savard has been helping out." At Blair's raised eyebrow, she clarified, "Starks suggestion. And a good one. I'll call her when we get to New York City."
"I want to be there."
Cam's first reaction was to say no, and then she realized that she couldn't. It was likely that whatever was inside had something to do with her or Blair or both of them, and she had promised Blair that she would not shut her out. She didn't like it, because her instinct was to keep Blair far away from anything that might potentially endanger her--emotionally or physically. But they had gone too far for that now. "All right."
Pleased, Blair rested her fingers on Cam's thigh. "Thank you."
*****
It was early evening by the time they landed in New York and made the trek into Manhattan to Blair's apartment. As they disembarked in front of the building, Cam said to Stark, "Would you mind staying a few moments, Agent?"
Stark, who was technically off-shift, and who had already worked twenty-four hours overtime with the unexpected trip to DC, and who had missed her date with Savard in the bargain, said immediately, "No problem. I'll be in the command center."
"Very good."
The agents sorted themselves out, some proceeding upstairs with Stark for the evening shift and others signing out for the night. Alone, Cam and Blair took the keyed elevator to Blair's apartment.
Once inside, Cam said, "I need to give Mac a call and see if he's turned up anything."
Blair dropped her overnight bag inside the door. "Are you hungry? I can fix us something."
Cam shed her jacket but kept her shoulder harness on over her blended-silk dress shirt. "That would be great. I'll give you a hand in a minute."
Smiling, Blair shook her head. "Just do what you need to do."
Cam settled into one of the fabric sling chairs which, along with the sofa, defined the lofts central living area and picked up the phone. She dialed and after a minute said, "It's Roberts. Where are you?...turn up anything...do you have the tapes?... okay, fine. Call me when you get in."
Sighing, she replaced the receiver and came around the breakfast bar into the kitchen where Blair was slicing mushrooms on a cutting board. A pot of water boiled on the cook top to her right.
"Can I do something?"
"Plates. What did he say?" Blair asked as she rinsed several tomatoes under the faucet and then cubed them.
"The security guard didn't have much more to offer than what he'd already told me. The package was dropped off at 7:52 this morning."
"Huh--just before my father arrived. Does that mean anything?"
"I don't know. I doubt it."
"What did he say about the courier?"
"He doesn't remember anything in particular except that it was a woman--Caucasian, medium height, twenty-five, maybe thirty. Mac has the tapes and is bringing them back here. We'll compare them to the surveillance tapes we have from downstairs when the first envelope was delivered here yesterday."
"A woman delivered it?" Blair inquired in surprise. “Both times?
“ Apparently. Cam shrugged. "That probably doesn't mean anything either. Half the couriers are women these days. Besides, it's doubtful that whoever is behind this would deliver it in person. But we have to check it out."
"I suppose youre right," Blair said contemplatively as she placed a handful of pasta in the boiling water.
"What?" Cam asked, noting Blair's expression.
"It's probably nothing."
"What is it? At this point, we can't afford to overlook anything."
"I thought it was really funny when I called my friend AJ to get your home address last night. She was very reluctant to give it to me."
"AJ? Who's she?"
"An FBI agent stationed at Bureau headquarters in DC. She's an information specialist."
"And she's been feeding you classified information?" Cam exclaimed incredulously. "Holy Christ. She could lose her job for that--or worse."
"She's discreet, and I don't ask her for much. We're old friends from prep school."
"I never realized you had such a network of insiders," Cam said appreciatively. That explains a lot about how she's been able to keep such a low profile about her private life all these years. She's had help keeping the information under wraps.
It was Blair's turn to shrug. Then she grinned sheepishly. "I've had a long time to acquire them.
"So," Cam continued, "you think your friend has something to do with this? How well do you know her?"
Blair smiled enigmatically.
“ Ah ha, Cam said, arching an eyebrow. “Recently?
There was just a touch of heat in her voice.
Blair laughed. “Not what youre thinking, surprisingly enough. I covered for her a few times when she was out all night on a date, back when the schools actually tried to keep track of such things. Shes the daughter of a Senatorone who gave my father a run for his money in the primaries, actually. We have a lot in common.
“ And you trust her?
“ Absolutely.
“ Enough to tell her about this?
Blair hesitated as she dished out pasta and sautéed vegetables. “Yesterday morning I would have said yes. Last night she soundedodd. Like she wanted to say something, but didnt.
“ Or couldnt, Cam countered.
They carried the plates to the breakfast bar and sat side by side.
“ What do you mean?
“ Did you talk to her at work?
“ Yes. But I was circumspect. I didnt use your name.
“ Still, Cam said around bites, “she has to know everything going in and out of there is taped. And besides, maybe shes more loyal to the Bureau than to you, especially if she thinks Im dirty. Remember, she doesnt know me at all.
“ I hadnt considered that, Blair said softly. The thought of anyone, but especially a friend,
thinking that about Cam bothered her. She was at once angry and saddened. Unconsciously, she dropped her hand onto Cams thigh, stroking her softly. “Do you think I should try talking to her?
"Not yet. Maybe we'll know more after we see what's in the newest delivery," Cam mused, covering Blairs hand with hers. "As soon as we're done, I'm going to find out if Savard is available to walk us through the lab."
"Cam, it's almost 8:00. Do you really think she'll be able to do anything tonight?"
"The Bureau's open twenty-four hours a day. We can always ask."
Chapter Twenty-eight
Twenty minutes later, Cam, perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, used the nearby wall phone to call down to the command center and asked for Stark.
"Yes, Commander?"
"I'd like to arrange a meeting with Special Agent Savard this evening. Id like you to come along."
"Sure. Absolutely," Stark said, then added hastily, "yes, ma'am."
"Would you happen to have the number where she's staying?"
"Uh--right here, yes," Stark, who had just finished talking to Renee moments before, responded. "Would you like me to call, or..."
"Best let me do that. But thanks."
Stark gave her the number and Cam jotted it down. "Fine. Would you get one of the vehicles and wait for us downstairs, please."
Us , Stark thought. Huh.
"Roger, Commander."
After Cam hung up from, Blair asked, "Are you sure we should involve them?"
"No, not really. Cam swiveled around on the stool until her back was to the counter and regarded Blair, who stood a few feet in front of her. Tiredly, Cam rubbed her eyes. The headache was back. “But unfortunately, we need to do some digging and some legwork, and I don't see that we have much choice. Hopefully, if things go bad, I can keep them out of it."
"Go bad?" Blair worked to keep her voice casual.
"If I'm wrong, and I really am the primary target of whoever is digging around in D.C., then something may break--or leak--pretty soon. If I go down in a big way, I don't want anyone else going with me."
"That's not going to happen," Blair said emphatically, eyes blazing.
"We have to be prepared for that event. And if it happens, you're going to need to get distance, too."
"No."
Softly, Cam said, "It will have to be done. I would want it that way even if you weren't the first daughter. If this turns out to be some junior reporter's bid for fame, and it becomes an exposition piece on degeneracy in the nation's capitol or security breaches within the Secret Service or God knows what else--the story will be huge. If that happens, the spin will all be bad, and your name and your father's name can't be linked to it." Before Blair could object, Cam added, "You know I'm right."
"Define what you mean by distance , Cameron," Blair said steadily, the edge in her voice so sharp it would have cut glass. "A week, a month--six goddamned years?"
"Please, Blair," Cam said wearily. "Do you honestly think I'd want that? You can't think it would be easy for me, can you?"
There was no fire in her voice, only a deep sadness. It was one of the few times Blair had ever seen Cam show even the slightest hint of defeat. It was so unusual, it shocked her free of her anger. Suddenly, she saw with brutal clarity that Cam was facing the potential destruction of her career as well as the threat to their relationship. Immediately, she went to her and slipped her arms around Cams shoulders, pressing Cam's cheek against her breasts. To her surprise, Cam's arms came around her waist and tightened. Blair could feel her trembling.
Tenderly, she kissed the top of Cams head. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure out what this is all about and we'll find out who's behind it and we'll put an end to it. Whatever happens, there's no way you're getting rid of me."
"I'd die for you without even thinking about it," Cam murmured hoarsely. "But I can't imagine living without you. Not now."
Listening to Cam's words, Blair pulled her lover closer still, a strange peace suffusing her.
"You don't have to worry, because you won't have to."
*****
Forty-five minutes later, Stark, Cam, and Blair stood outside the rear entrance of a nondescript six-story stone building in midtown Manhattan. Precisely at the designated time, Savard keyed the security lock and opened the door.
“ Commander, she said when she saw Cam, her eyes moving over Starks face with a faint smile, then stopping in surprise when they met Blairs. “Good evening, Ms. Powell.
“ Hi, Blair replied. “How are you feeling, Renee?
“ Okay. Ill be better when I can get out of this damn thing, Savard said, indicating the sling tethering her left arm to her chest. “Come inside. The security cameras are timed back here. Weve got a few minutes.
Savard led them through a warren of beige hallways that were indistinguishable from one another. All the office doors were closed and the harsh fluorescent lights spaced at intervals overhead cast everything in the same impersonal institutional glare. Opening the door to a stairwell, she said, "The labs on the third floor. There's a video camera in the main elevators, and I thought we might as well walk."
"Good idea," Cam replied. It was doubtful that anyone would actually go through the routine surveillance tapes in the absence of any reason to do so, but the less time their little group was recorded, the better.
The three of them climbed single file and then walked silently through yet another corridor to the last door on the right. Savard pushed it open and they stepped into a large open space divided into work stations by laboratory benches and tables containing high tech analytical equipment.
Since most of the technicians who worked in the lab were regular eight-to-fivers, the vast area was empty save for a lone white-coated figure hunched over a lab bench at the far end of the room. As the group approached him, Savard called out, "Hey, Sammy."
A pale, bespectacled young man with a thatch of red hair badly in need of a cut and a mildly befuddled expression on his face, glanced in their direction. Then, as if suddenly remembering an appointment, he smiled broadly. "Hey, Renee. You got something for me?"
"Yep. Savard pointed to the manila envelope in Cam's hand. “I need you to take a look at whatever's inside. I don't need to tell you the routine. Anything you can give us will be helpful."
His hands were covered in thin latex gloves, which he stripped off and replaced with a new pair from a cardboard box by his right elbow. Despite the fact that he must have realized that dozens of people had already handled the envelope, he took it from Cam with stainless steel tongs and laid it on a nearby glass surface. With a magnifying glass, he bent down to examine the surface, pausing for a few seconds over the hand-printed address.
Mumbling to himself, he remarked, "Standard magic marker, no postmark, nothing distinctive about the packaging."
He straightened and picked up the envelope. "Give me a few minutes and I'll see what I can turn up. Ill scan it for hand-writing analysis if you need that done later."
"Okay, great. We'll be in the conference room," Savard said, indicating a door in the far corner of the room.
"Uh-huh," he said distractedly, his mind clearly somewhere else already.
The four of them settled into chairs around the small table in the unadorned windowless room in the rear of the forensic analysis lab. The silence as they regarded one another speculatively was broken when Blair said, "How do you know he's not going to make a record of all of this?"
Her tone held no censure, merely curiosity.
"I've known him since we were cadets," Savard replied. "He's a genius with anything that's quantifiable, but he's a lousy marksman and not particularly agile in the physical department either. Somehow, we ended up being workout partners and I spent a lot of extra time helping him prepare for the things that didn't come easily. Were friends, and hes loyal.
“ What about the content? It could besensitive, Cam pointed out.
“ He doesn't care what's in there; he only cares what's on it. Fi
ngerprints, fiber, bodily fluids. Thats what makes an impression on him. If it's a photograph like the first one you gave me yesterday, he won't even notice the subject matter."
"Did he find anything on that one?" Cam inquired, this being the first opportunity she'd had to ask.
Savard should her head. "No, that's why I didn't bother calling you when I found out the results. You'd already left for DC at that point, and I figured it could wait. It was a copy, probably scanned, of the original--computer generated. It wasn't made from the negative."
"Which means," Cam mused, "that it may have been made by someone who didn't have physical access to the original file."
"Or by someone who was pressed for time," Stark noted. "If you're looking through material that you don't have clearance for, you dont bother doing anything except making quick copies."
"Could be."
"Are you saying we weren't really supposed to get it?" Blair queried.
"Maybe we've been looking at this the wrong way, Cam theorized. “Maybe these packages aren't threats, but warnings."
"Warnings? You mean someone is trying to tell us that we're being...looked at?"
Cam nodded. "Maybe these are friendly messages."
"Why don't I feel reassured?" Blair said sarcastically.
“ You have a point, Cam agreed with a sigh. "Maybe once we see what's in this one, it will make a little more sense."
Thirty minutes later, Sammy returned. He handed Savard the envelope, the contents presumably inside.
"I didn't bother with everything this time. The preliminary run through shows exactly what the other one did--nothing. Whoever sent it knew what they were doing. There are no prints; nothing distinguishing about the paper--standard commercial brand; its printed on an inkjet printer. Computer-generated. Just like the other one."
"Can you narrow down the printer?" Stark asked.
He glanced at her, then at Blair, who sat beside her. Quickly, he averted his gaze. If he recognized her, he gave no sign of it, but he kept his eyes fixed on Savard, the person he was clearly most comfortable addressing. "I analyzed the pixel register on the first print. It's an Epson high-end printer. We've got one down the hall. Standard government issue, as well as the one used by most desktop publishers or almost any other business doing high quality photo reproductions."
