Above All, Honor

by Radclyffe

  “Is she promiscuous?” Cam asked evenly.

  “She does better with women than I ever did,” he remarked in frustration. “She doesn’t have a steady girlfriend. I wish to hell she did. Then maybe we could keep track of her. She doesn’t exactly sleep around, but she doesn’t go long without sex either.”

  “What are you trying to tell me here, Agent Ryan?” Cameron asked, tired of skirting the edges of the issue. “In addition to the fact that we have an uncooperative, high profile subject with a very problematic lifestyle?”

  “She’s an angry animal in a cage, and you’re the new zookeeper. She’s been trying to escape for years, and when she does, someone is going to get hurt.”

  Cameron inclined her head in agreement. Blair Powell had lived with constant surveillance since her father had been elected Vice President for two terms, and governor of New York before that. Now that he was a newly seated President, she had at least three more years of even closer monitoring. She was a prisoner in all but name, and Cameron doubted anyone could tolerate that for long. The political pressure to hide her sexuality must make it even worse. If she had the luxury of empathizing with the First Daughter, she would have felt deeply for her predicament. But Blair Powell’s happiness was not her responsibility, and she couldn’t waste time or objectivity worrying about it.

  “Some one may indeed get hurt,” she responded. “I intend to see that it’s not her.”

  Chapter Three

  “Agent Roberts?” a handsome Brad Pitt look-alike inquired as Cam stepped off the elevator on the eighth floor of a brownstone apartment building that faced the south side of Gramercy Park. He extended his hand with a disarming smile. “I’m Mac Phillips. The others are inside the command post. Welcome to the Aerie.”

  She took his outstretched hand, smiling at the play on eagles nest. “Cameron Roberts. What’s on for this morning?”

  She accompanied him into a large loft space that had been sectioned into work cubicles and equipment stations by shoulder high particle-board partitions. Their surveillance center occupied the entire floor directly below Blair Powell’s penthouse suite. A small conference room enclosed by glass filled the far corner. As they approached the group of people seated within, Phillips consulted a printout in his hand.

  “Intro and weekly briefing now. You are scheduled to meet with Egret at eleven in the penthouse.” He caught her faint expression of surprise and shrugged. “She won’t talk to any of us. She says if she must discuss her plans, it will only be once, and with the team commander.”

  “It’s her prerogative,” Cam remarked. As she walked, she was making careful note of the banks of video monitors, multi-cassette recorders, computer simulators, and a large grid of New York City, digitally indexed and showing up-to-the minute placement of police vehicles. It was the same array of equipment used to monitor the White House and surrounds, and with the same reason. The President was vulnerable through his family. To avoid the appearance of that vulnerability, the First Family needed to be shown living as normal a life as possible, not shuttled about by armed guards. Hence, their protection needed to be provided at a distance, with as little visibility as possible. The semblance of freedom was a ruse they all conspired to perpetuate—everyone, apparently, except Blair Powell.

  “Good morning, people,” she said briskly as she strode to the head of the oblong table. She glanced at each face, making brief eye contact with everyone. “You have one hour to tell me everything I need to know about this operation, and everything you don’t think I need to know as well. Lets get started.”

  At the end of an hour during which Cam listened, questioned, and issued a few directives, the agents who constituted her team sensed there was a new game in town. Everyone present took their responsibility seriously, for the sake of their future employment if for no other reason, and each had felt the frustration voiced earlier by the departing team commander. That dissatisfaction was heightened by the fact that they disliked Blair Powell, although none of them would ever say so, even to each other. Over the six months since Andrew Powell had been President, the obstructive, uncooperative attitude of his daughter had subtly undermined the confidence of the operatives. An hour with Cameron Roberts provided them with the first jolt of optimism they’d felt in weeks.

  ———

  “Allow me to summarize,” Cam said as she stood and walked to the window looking down on the postage-sized private park that formed the heart of Gramercy Park. As she watched an elderly woman unlock the gate that surrounded the park, she spoke, her back to the room, but her voice clearly audible. “Ms. Powell resents our intrusion into her life; she resents our presence in every public and private moment of her day. She undoubtedly resents our observation of her personal liaisons and romantic encounters. I, for one, don’t blame her.”

  She turned to the group with a small shrug. “The fact that Ms. Powell does not welcome our presence is immaterial. Our job is to see that she is able to carry on her life with the maximum degree of security possible. No matter where she is, or what she’s doing. She has decided to make this a game. We have to play, and we have to win. We don’t get to throw up our hands and call foul if she changes the rules. There are no rain outs. We can’t expect her to help us win; we have to do that for ourselves.”

  She smiled faintly as she took her seat again. Now she understood at least one of the reasons she had been given this assignment. “Remember she is an uncooperative subject. Don’t expect her to smile and say good morning; don’t expect her to make your job easy. She has made it clear she does not want us around. She is not going to invite us along. We will switch from protective surveillance methods to investigative tactics. If she can’t see you, it will be harder for her to lose you. If you need to follow her to protect her, then you’ve got to fit in where she travels. You have to function essentially undercover.”

  She looked pointedly at each of her operatives, seeing them as Blair Powell must see them. Ivy league starched, polished and presentable. About as obvious as the proverbial bulls in the china shop.

  “Except at scheduled public functions where Ms. Powell is acting in some official capacity, no suits, no ties, no skirts. Street clothes, preferably something appropriate for the type of locales she is known to frequent.”

  She saw the slight stiffening of a few shoulders, and continued unperturbed. It was time to stop circling the primary problem. “For you men, I think a slightly longer hair length would be helpful for starters. It’s time for you to stop looking like tourists, or cops.” She sipped the last of her coffee, gathering her papers with one hand. “A little research might also be in order. I want a summary of every gay bar and restaurant in New York City. Hours of operation, type of clientele, traffic patterns in the area, etc. Start with the ones you know she’s been to. Have it on my desk before the day is out. Know your subject, ladies and gentlemen, and you have won the first point.”

  Everyone relaxed slightly as she pulled open the door to the conference room. She paused at the sill, turning back casually.

  “By the way Mac, does she know about the video equipment inside her apartment?”

  He looked at her in surprise. How had she noticed that on a quick walk through the monitoring section?

  “I doubt it,” he said quietly. If she were aware of the micro-cameras mounted in the ceiling of her loft, she would hardly be walking around nude the way she did.

  “Turn them off,” Cam said flatly. “Video the elevator, the building exits, fire escapes, and garage only. On my responsibility.”

  With that she was gone, leaving them to wonder where one got the balls to countermand a direct order from the White House Chief of Staff.

  ———

  At precisely eleven am, Cam keyed the elevator to the penthouse, exiting in a small foyer opposite a carved oak door set into the rich wood panels. The wallpaper on the other two walls adjoining the lift was a cream fabric, intricately patterned and luxuriously textured. The effect was warm and sensual
. Cam rang the bell beside the door.

  Blair Powell opened the door a moment later. Her hair was wet from the shower, casually finger-combed and falling freely around her face. She wore a loosely belted blue silk robe that came to just above her knees. Her legs were bare, and Cam knew she was naked beneath the thin material. The front gaped enough to reveal the soft inner curves of both breasts. There was a trace of jasmine floating in the air. Cam was assaulted with the seething sensuality she had sensed in the photograph earlier. She kept her gaze carefully at eye level.

  “I’m Agent Roberts, Ms. Powell. I’ll come back when you’re ready, “ she said neutrally. “If you would just call the command room—”

  “I won’t be available later,” Blair interrupted, appraising the current commander assigned with her care. This one was somewhat of a surprise. She wore the requisite suit, a little better cut than most. You couldn’t see a hint of a bulge from the shoulder holster. Her hair was short, and fashionably styled in a roguishly faux-masculine cut. The double-breasted jacket was open to expose a fine white linen shirt that hugged a well developed chest and trim waist. The belted trousers were streamlined to the tightly muscled thighs. Blair found her startlingly attractive in an understated butch fashion. The Commander was either unimpeachably heterosexual or exactly what she appeared to be—a lesbian who didn’t care who knew it. Blair was intrigued.

  “It’s now or next week,” she continued, enjoying her control. There was no way the new commander could wait even a few hours to discuss her schedule.

  “Now would be fine,” Cam acquiesced graciously. She didn’t want a power struggle over trivial issues. She had no need to prove herself that way.

  Blair stepped slightly aside, motioning Cam into the high-ceilinged open loft space. She smiled as Cam carefully avoided brushing against her. All business, she thought to herself.

  “Do you have a first name, Agent Roberts?” Blair asked as she crossed to the kitchen area. A breakfast bar flanked by tall stools separated the cooking space from the large living room. She leaned down to pull two cups from the shelves under the island, quite aware that the movement afforded a clear view into her dressing gown.

  “Cameron,” Cam replied, keeping her face and voice expressionless. Her mind registered the striking perfection of the young woman’s body, an image of her soft, pink-nippled breasts indelibly implanted in her memory. She was being taunted, that much was clear. What she didn’t know was why.

  Blair straightened slowly, searching for a reaction in the handsome agent’s face. She was curious to find none.

  “Cameron,” she breathed huskily, “that’s nice. You can call me Blair.”

  Cameron continued unperturbed, “I’ll try not to take too much of your time, Ms. Powell. If we could just review your plans for the week, I can leave you to your day.”

  Blair stared at her, anger seething in her blue eyes. “Don’t patronize me, Agent Roberts. We both know you won’t be leaving me to anything at all.”

  Cam nodded assent. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean it that way. Of course, I can’t. But I can make my presence and that of my people as unintrusive as possible.”

  Blair was surprised by her conciliatory approach. That was a new tactic. Usually they tried to bully her with threats of unfavorable reports to her father, as if she were an unruly child in school. Either that or they promised her privacy while tightening the net around her. She had absolutely no reason to believe this one, despite the sincerity in her intense gray eyes. She walked around the island carrying the coffee until she was next to Cam. She reached to put the cups on the counter, brushing close to Cam as she did.

  Cam didn’t flinch at the contact, although her body registered the pressure of Blair’s breasts against her arm and the heat of a naked thigh against her leg. She was annoyed by the twitch of arousal that occurred entirely involuntarily. She consciously kept her breathing light and steady. She knows about the video cameras. Putting the team commander in an embarrassing position on tape might conceivably benefit her at some point, or it just might be her idea of a game. Either way, Cam pitied Daniel Ryan. Blair Powell was a powerfully desirable woman, and if such attractions still interested her, it might become a problem. Blair had no way of knowing that despite the reflex arousal she provoked, Cam was completely immune to sexual allure.

  Blair deliberately pressed closer, and Cam allowed the moment of contact to linger long enough to make it clear she was aware of it, and undisturbed by it. Shed gotten quite a lot of practice in the last six months saying no to attractive women. Then she stepped away, reaching into her inside jacket pocket for the computer log Mac had provided her.

  “The schedule?” she said softly.

  Blair stared at her, color rising to her face. She had just been rebuked, subtly, but very definitely. Rejection from women was a new and unwelcome experience. Shed never been as blatantly provocative with Daniel Ryan, but she had sensed his discomfort whenever they were alone, and she knew she had an effect on him. Something about Cameron Roberts cool, aloof manner made her want to crack that perfect self-control. If she must have a jailer, she wanted it to be one she commanded.

  “Yes, lets get that over with,” she responded with irritation, taking her coffee and moving into the sitting area.

  Cam followed, noting the large work area in the far corner of the loft. Easels stood open with canvasses mounted on them and other works leaned against every surface. Sunlight streamed through the skylight, illuminating the uncovered surfaces. From the brief glimpse she got, it appeared that Blair Powell deserved her reputation as a genuine artist. Cam took a seat across from Blair on one of two facing leather sofas. Blair tucked her legs under her as she curled gracefully into the cushions. Cam noted abstractly that she was much more beautiful in her unconscious moments than when she used her considerable sexual power as a weapon. In the next instant her mind had returned to the work at hand.

  “I have you at a gallery opening tomorrow, dinner at the White House New Years Eve, and attending the Macys parade here in New York City with the mayor the next day,” Cam read from the schedule. She looked to Blair for confirmation.

  “Busy week,” Blair muttered. “That seems to be it,” she said tersely.

  Cam regarded her thoughtfully. She would have hated such intrusion, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fact that Blair Powell did not choose this life—it wasn’t her after all who had run for public office—was beside the point. And the hard part was yet to come.

  “What about your personal plans,” Cam asked, her eyes on Blair’s face. She would not apologize for what she needed to do. Cam wanted it clear that she would not compromise her own responsibility or Blair’s safety because of Blair’s dislike for the situation.

  “I don’t have any,” Blair responded lightly.

  Cam leaned back, tossing the schedule aside. She smiled faintly. “I need to know anything you have scheduled—dinner plans, a date for drinks, that sort of thing. If you don’t know, I’ll need you to tell me as things come up. All you have to do is check in with the command post—”

  “I know all this, Agent Roberts,” Blair said testily.

  “Yes, but apparently you’re not fond of the routine.”

  “Would you be?”

  “That’s not the point. You are the daughter of the President of the United States. You don’t need me to tell you what that means. Please let us do ours jobs, and I promise you we will be as discreet as we can be.”

  “Do you expect me to tell you when I plan on a sexual liaison too?” she asked bluntly.

  “I don’t need to know what you’re doing so much as where you’re doing it,” Cam responded smoothly. She knew Blair was trying to get her to back off, and she could not relent now. “It would be preferable if you would inform us when you planned to spend the night somewhere other than here, for example.”

  “And what if I don’t know where I’ll be spending the night?”

  “Then I’ll improvise.”

/>   “You’re a lot more direct than your predecessors. Aren’t you afraid I’ll complain about you and you’ll end up guarding some minor foreign diplomat on their tour of the capitol?” Her tone was caustic, but she studied Cam with guarded respect. The new commander was in a class of her own. Impossible to shock, and clearly not intimidated by her. A refreshing change, but much more of a challenge than the others.

  Cam laughed. “Ms. Powell, some people would consider that a plum assignment!”

  “Compared to this you mean?”

  Cam stood, refusing to be provoked. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Powell. Please call me at any time if there is anything you wish to discuss. I would like to review your itinerary each day. Let the command room know when it will be convenient for you to meet with me.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Blair responded with a smile, her tone implying just how little that request meant to her. She remained seated as Cam left the room, thinking how attractive her tight, graceful body might be under other circumstances.

  Chapter Four

  Mac Philips looked up as his new boss walked into the command center. He raised an eyebrow slightly in inquiry. She seemed pensive but displayed none of the thinly veiled discomfort Ryan tried to hide after one of his encounters with Egret. But then Mac didn’t expect her to reveal anything. He couldn’t remember the last time he had met anyone quite so impenetrable. He had a feeling this was going to be a “need to know” operation. He found he liked her unspoken respect for Egrets position, and her basic assumption that they were there to protect her, not have an easy time. He was getting tired of the undercurrent of dissatisfaction and criticism that had been the daily fare around there for the last few months. If she could turn that around, he was all for her.