Word of Honor fr-7

by Radclyffe

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Or Sunday. That’s only moving things up a couple of days. We were going on Monday, anyhow.”

  “I’ll have to clear it with the commander.”

  Blair’s heart warmed to Paula’s automatic certainty that Cam would be back. “Why? You’re my security chief. Everything is set out there, right? Mac and Ellen have done all the advance work.”

  “They probably have a few more simulations to run with local law enforcement and the medical evac teams, but we’ve been at full readiness since midweek.”

  “There, see?” Blair grasped Paula’s arm. “We’ve been planning this for over a month. Now more than ever, Cam, and Renee too, will need to rest. I don’t care what they say. I don’t care who needs to be chased, who has to be caught, who must be punished. For a few days, they need to recover.” She leaned closer. “Or, Paula, next time someone’s going to get hurt.”

  “Next time?” Paula whispered. Her gaze swept the room as she checked to make sure that no one could hear them. “Renee barely finished rehab before going on this mission. It was supposed to be an easy trip. If there’s been trouble…” Her voice broke and she clenched her fist, the muscles in her arm tightening under Blair’s hand.

  “Renee will be all right. Cam would never have taken her if she didn’t think Renee could do whatever needed to be done, under any circumstances.” She gave Paula’s arm a shake. “Besides, Renee might be stubborn but she’s a professional. She wouldn’t have put herself back on active duty if she didn’t think she was ready.”

  Paula smiled. “Renee’s idea of being fit for duty is a little bit different than mine.”

  “Oh, bull,” Blair exclaimed. Individually, they each felt they were indestructible, but they lived with the fear that the ones they loved were not. “As I recall, you were the one who didn’t want to give up a shift even when you had a bullet hole in your shoulder.”

  Stark frowned. “That’s different.”

  “Right. It’s always different when it’s you.” Blair was glad to see some of the pain lift from Paula’s eyes. “So what do you say? Colorado? We’ll hit the slopes and leave all this behind?”

  “As soon as I get clearance, and you know where that has to come from. Until the commander gets a handle on…” Paula paused and glanced across the room at Dana Barnett, who was studying them intently. “Your security is a joint operation for the time being, but I’ll push for us to go. You’re right, they’ll need it.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We’ll all need it.”

  Cam and Savard waited until the injured men were removed from the helicopter and transferred to an ambulance, then they climbed out, keeping their heads down as the rotors whipped overhead. They’d landed in a small lot behind a mostly darkened building at Langley Air Force Base. Outside the wavering circle of light cast by the chopper’s beams, Cam saw two figures but she couldn’t make out their faces.

  “By my side,” Cam said to Savard. They approached their reception committee with shoulders touching. Cam kept a grip on her holstered pistol as did Savard until she recognized Lucinda Washburn and Averill Jensen, the president’s security adviser. “Clear.”

  “Who were you expecting?” Lucinda asked.

  “Right about now, I’m not real sure,” Cam said.

  “Do you two need medics?”

  “Savard does,” Cam said.

  “No, I don’t,” Savard snapped. She glanced at Cam. “Ma’am.”

  Lucinda, dressed in low heels, a dark skirt and jacket, and a silk blouse, looked as if she’d just stepped out of her office rather than out of the helicopter she had probably taken to get from Washington to Langley after Cam signaled her. “You’re sure? Because it’s going to take most of the night to debrief you.”

  Cam looked at Savard. “Is there anything wrong with you that a gallon of coffee won’t cure?”

  “I’m fine, Commander.”

  “We’re good to go,” Cam said to Lucinda. “After I make a phone call. And we both need showers. We’re covered with ash and smoke.”

  “The showers we can provide,” the president’s security adviser said, “but I don’t think a call is advisable until we have a better handle on exactly what happened.”

  “I wasn’t making a request.” As Cam started toward the building with Savard by her side, she pulled out her cell phone.

  Matheson put his book aside and picked up his cell phone, surprised at the unexpected call. Only a very few people had this number, and he changed phones every few days. His surprise turned to concern when he didn’t recognize the caller’s number. He contemplated not answering for a few seconds, and then decided a brief response would be safe. If he sensed trouble he could hang up before anyone had a chance to trace his location.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, my good friend. I believe we have some business to discuss, do we not?” a man said in heavily accented but perfect English.

  “I’m always happy to assist a friend, although I don’t remember any further bus—”

  “Recent events have altered our thinking about the value of certain items. Perhaps we can choose a convenient time and place to confer.”

  Matheson checked his watch. Still a little more time. “Of course, of course. I’ll have my second contact you with details.”

  “Thank you, my friend.” There was a pause. “Do not delay.”

  The caller disconnected and Matheson considered his alliance with the men whom under other circumstances he would consider enemies. The enemies of his enemy had become his friends. God did work in mysterious ways.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Blair’s and Paula’s cell phones rang simultaneously in stereo, and Blair saw the same mixture of hope and uncertainty flash across Paula’s face that rushed through her. She yanked her phone off her waist. “Cam?”

  “Everything’s okay,” Cam said quickly. “I’m sorry I’m so late.”

  Late? She’s worried about being late? Blair would have laughed— or cried—at the absurdity, but she knew Cam meant it with her whole heart. Turning her back to the room, Blair lowered her voice and cradled the phone in her palm as if it were Cam’s face. She wanted to touch her so badly and refused to think about how long it might be before she could. Only one thing really mattered at this moment. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” Cam said firmly. “No, we’re both all right.”

  “How long can you talk?” Blair heard her own voice and was amazed at how calm she sounded. Inside, she shook with the release of hours of tension and fear. She wanted to say, Come home, now. I need you. She knew that wasn’t possible. She knew, but that didn’t ease the ache in her chest.

  “I’ve just got a minute.” Cam sounded apologetic. “Are you okay?”

  “Better now.” Blair took a breath, the first unhindered pain-free breath she’d taken in hours. “When will you be home?”

  “I don’t know yet. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Lonely.”

  “Me too,” Cam said softly. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

  “I know. Are you sure you’re safe?”

  “Yes. Are you with friends?”

  “Everyone’s here. Everything’s under control.” Blair knew better than to ask where Cam was, or about what had happened, or who she was with. All those questions would have to wait. She had what she needed most. Cam was unhurt and out of danger and coming home. “You sound hoarse.”

  Cam coughed, clearing her throat. “Maybe a little scratchy. No problem.”

  “You’re not hurt?” The last time Cam had sounded this way someone had tried to kill her. The idea of someone physically assaulting her lover made her ill. The reality haunted her dreams and stalked her waking moments. “Darling?”

  “No. There was…some smoke.”

  Blair sighed. Cam would try to keep the details from her, not because Cam didn’t trust her, but because she didn’t want to worry her. And Blair would force it out of her, not just because she
needed to know what monsters lurked, waiting to destroy her world, but because Cam needed to talk so the monsters wouldn’t slowly destroy her. “Later about that, then, Roberts.”

  Cam laughed. “Okay, baby.”

  “Can you tell everyone to get out of our apartment now?”

  “Soon. Not tonight, though. Not until I have a better handle on the incident.”

  The incident. The event. The operation. The mission. Code words for danger. Euphemisms for death. “I’m not going anywhere until you get home, but I’ve about had it. Which means you need to get your ass back here.”

  “I will. Just as soon as I can. I promise.”

  “And no side trips.” Cam would know she meant that whatever retaliation might be necessary, she didn’t want Cam to be part of it. There were agents trained to do what needed to be done—Cam did not have to be the first on the scene any longer. When the silence stretched longer than a few seconds, Blair said, “Do you hear me?”

  “I’ll do my best, baby.”

  And Blair knew that was all she could ask. “Come home soon. I miss you.”

  A silent female lieutenant waited inside the locker room while Cam and Savard showered. She provided them with black military-issue BDUs and T-shirts and then escorted them to a small, drab conference room with a table that seated twelve, an outdated pull-down projection screen at one end of the room, and a coffee cart with a huge urn that Cam hoped was filled with hot coffee at the other end. Lucinda sat at one end of the conference table with Averill Jensen.

  “You two are looking a little better,” Lucinda said.

  “We’re good to go,” Cam said.

  The lieutenant stepped out into the hall and closed the door, leaving the four of them alone. Cam tested the urn with her hand, grunted in pleasure when she felt the heat, and searched the metal cabinet beneath the cart for cups. She filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and handed it to Savard, then got her own. Savard followed her when she sat down at the conference table.

  “What happened?” Lucinda asked.

  Cam gave a recap of the events. “I don’t suppose you two have anything to add?”

  Jensen look surprised. “Like what?”

  “Like whether or not this was a sanctioned neutralization?”

  Lucinda glanced at Jensen, eyes narrowed. “Averill?”

  “No,” he said, sounding defensive. “Why would you ask? Isn’t it obvious that Matheson or one of the other patriot organizers was trying to eliminate Early before he could identify them or disclose other vital information about their operations?”

  “It’s never wise to accept the obvious,” Cam said quietly, watching Jensen carefully. Lucinda Washburn and Andrew Powell she trusted unequivocally, but they were the only two she could say that about other than Blair and the members of her team. Jensen she didn’t know that well. “How many people knew we were planning to interrogate Early today?”

  Now Jensen turned in his seat and looked to Lucinda for help. Lucinda shook her head and said, “Nothing happens in a vacuum, and there is no such thing as airtight security. You know that better than anyone. The minute you get in a cab, someone knows about it. Flights had to be arranged, the local office in Virginia was contacted for an escort, the prison commander was advised that you were coming. No one knew you were going to see Early, at least not that I’m aware of.”

  “How many other detainees from Matheson’s compound are being held there?” Cam asked.

  Lucinda grimaced. “I don’t know, and for some reason, I can’t find out. No one seems to know. Everyone who should know claims not to.”

  “Bureaucratic snafu or intentional lockdown on information?”

  “I wish I knew that too,” Lucinda said, obviously frustrated. She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Listen, Cameron. I don’t know who blew that van off the highway. Right now, we don’t even know how they did it. Have any thoughts on that?”

  “It might have been a car bomb triggered by a radio signal,” Cam said, “but judging by what happened out in the Atlantic last month, it could just as easily be a surface-to-surface missile again. You’ve got a team looking at the wreckage out there now, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unfortunately,” Savard put in, “I don’t think discovering the how is going to tell us anything about the who. Almost anyone can get military ordnance these days—foreign terrorists, domestic militants, your average Joe Survivalist down the street.”

  “Agreed,” Cam said. “What we need to concentrate on is who wanted Early dead.”

  “I would think Matheson would be at the head of that list,” Lucinda said grimly.

  “Possibly,” Cam said, far from certain. Matheson had eyes and ears in high places, that was clear. She didn’t believe for a second that Valerie’s handler was the only person in the Company with ties to Matheson. Operations like Matheson’s didn’t go undetected without more than a few people helping to keep it quiet. Every security branch had its share of hawks and superpatriots who believed that the end justified any means, if the end was preserving national supremacy. Such people were not above aiding militants, funding false flag operations designed to incite public support for armed retaliation, even orchestrating the assassination of political figures. “If Early had close ties to Matheson and was privy to things certain people didn’t want him talking about, it might not have been Matheson who wanted him out of the way.”

  Lucinda’s face hardened. “You’re talking about someone on the inside, one of us.”

  “On the inside, maybe,” Cam said grimly. “But not one of us.”

  “But those were federal agents driving that prison van,” Savard protested. “No one inside would…”

  “Collateral damage.” Cam leaned back, suddenly more tired than she’d realized.

  “The SUV ahead of us pulled over right before the prison van was hit,” Savard said, her disbelief turning to fury. “If we hadn’t been there, there would have been a clear shot at the van and both the lead car and the follow car would have been out of the blast zone. But then we pulled in behind the van and drove right into the field of fire!”

  “That’s my read too,” Cam said, rubbing at the tension between her eyes.

  Averill Jensen squared the empty pad of paper in front of him. He had uncapped his pen earlier as if he were going to take notes, but had written nothing down. “We’ll do everything we can from our end to trace the leak, if there was one. There won’t be a paper trail, but calls were made.”

  Cam shrugged. “It has to be done, but it could take weeks. I think we simply have to assume that none of our communications are secure.” She looked pointedly at Lucinda. “Not even in and out of your office.”

  “Where does this put us in terms of tracking down Matheson?” Lucinda asked.

  “About where we were before,” Cam said. “My people are combing personal histories, electronic data, reports from FBI and ATF agents inside the patriot organizations, looking for connections.” The dull throb between her eyes accelerated to a full-blown headache. “We’re monitoring known cells, tracking targets on watch lists.”

  “He’s running circles around us,” Averill said bitterly.

  Cam eyed him coldly. “Almost twenty men, none of them nationals, entered this country over a period of several years, established identities, trained on flight simulators, and managed to pull off an orchestrated terrorist attack without the combined power of all the security agencies in this country being able to detect them. Finding one U.S. citizen who has spent his entire life preparing to go into hiding is going to take plain old grunt work and a hell of a lot of luck.”

  “You don’t think we’ll get him,” Lucinda said wearily.

  “Oh, we’ll get him,” Cam said, “because we won’t quit until we do.” What she didn’t say, what she refused to think about, was what he might do first.

  Blair felt all the eyes in the room on her as she walked over to Paula. “Let’s compare notes.”

  Stark smiled,
but she looked worried. “Everything’s fine, nobody’s hurt, and it was just a little unexpected detour. Does that fit with your version?”

  “Pretty much. Did Renee sound okay?”

  “She sounded pumped.” Stark laughed briefly. “There’s a reason she went into the FBI and I went into the Secret Service. She wants to chase bad guys, clean up the streets, strike a blow for justice. Me, I want to see that those responsible for justice stay safe. I don’t need the rush like she does.”

  Blair squeezed Paula’s shoulder. “She’s no cowboy. Neither is Cam. But I know what you mean. I got the same story you did, pretty much. Cam did tell me that Renee was okay.”

  “Renee told me the commander was okay too.”

  “Then I guess we can assume they’re both walking and talking.” Blair closed her eyes for a second. “You should take a break now. You’ve been on duty all day.”

  Paula glanced across the room at Valerie, who stood apart from Blair’s friends talking on her cell phone. “I’m too keyed up to sleep right now.”

  Blair knew she should sleep, but the bed would be too cold and empty and her mind too filled with unwelcome images of what life might have been like had things turned out differently. She announced to the room at large, “I’m going to work. Diane, Emory, you’re welcome to stay here tonight. The guest room is empty and—”

  “Actually,” Valerie interrupted, “for the time being, everyone is staying here. The deputy director feels that the situation is still too unstable to decentralize our personnel, and she doesn’t want anyone left unguarded. So I suggest you all get comfortable for the night.”

  Blair joined her friends while Valerie walked over to converse with Stark. “There’s food in the refrigerator and wine in the cooler under the counter. Diane, you know where all my clothes are. You and Emory can grab whatever you need.”