by Radclyffe
"Yes ma'am," Mac snapped.
"And Mac," Cameron continued in a quieter voice. "Get Egret back to her apartment."
There was a beat of silence over the phone line. Mac cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. He wasn't sure why, but he felt uncomfortable delivering the next information. "Uh, Commander--at the moment, Egret is with an unidentified female, who almost certainly does not know Egret's identity. If we roust her, there is no way we'll be able to guarantee silence regarding her identity."
Cameron flashed back to the young woman Blair had been fondling in the bar. Of course Blair would have gone home with her. And why not? She was just the kind of conquest Blair would thrill to.
"Then I want her in a car the minute she steps out onto the sidewalk. And Mac--if anyone loses her, it's their job."
"I guarantee I will have her back here ASAP." As he hung up the phone, he said a fervent prayer that he could deliver on his promise.
Chapter seventeen
At 06:59, Cam walked into the command center and strode to the head of the table where the other agents were gathered. Despite her lack of sleep, she looked focused and intent. Without preamble, she said, "Let me hear the analysis on the photograph."
Jeremy Finch, a short, mildly overweight, bespectacled agent cleared his throat. He was the resident nerd, the computer genius and technical wizard. "We've analyzed the potential elevation and angle of view by extrapolating from the available shadows and the known time of day. Basically, the photograph was taken from one of the buildings facing Egret's across Gramercy Park." He looked down at the tabletop uncomfortably.
"That leaves us with a lot of potential sites, Agent Finch." Cameron stared at him, biting back another sarcastic remark. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't manufacture evidence.
Finch nodded almost miserably. Like every other agent in the room, he had come to value his position on this team, and felt a sense of loyalty to his intense, demanding Commander. "Yes ma'am, I know that. What it does tell us is that the shooter has a fixed location, rather than a vehicle. Therefore, there is a better chance of finding him, since he may be relatively stationary."
Cameron nodded. "You're right. We need to get a list of every occupant of every building on each side of the Square, not just the street directly across from this building. You'll need to check realtors, building managers, and also any corporations which lease apartments for use by employees. It's possible that this UNSUB is only here intermittently when business demands it."
"We have people assigned to begin the reconnaissance at the opening of business hours," Mac interjected.
They spent a few moments reviewing other methods of narrowing down the list of potential perpetrators who might have access to the surrounding buildings. Finally, Cameron looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of her agents.
"I'm going to have to report this to the White House. At this point, we must assume that Blair Powell is in imminent danger of either an assassination or abduction attempt. I'm going to recommend that she be secluded for the time being until we can carry out our investigation. It is possible that this investigation will be removed from our jurisdiction--" she held up her hand for silence as the agents shifted in their seats and murmured in protest.
"I know how you feel, and I think that we are the best people to protect her as well as to get to the bottom of this. But situations like this often become political, and it's possible we will have nothing to say about it. If it comes to that, I expect total cooperation with whoever is running the investigation. Remember, the bottom line is Egret's safety. There is no room for ego or personal gain where she is concerned."
Cameron stared, knowing she had everyone's attention. "As soon as Ms. Powell arrives home, inform me. I'll meet with her and let her know the situation. That's all."
Cameron walked through the command center to the elevators and left the building without speaking to anyone. She crossed the square to her own apartment and shed her clothes immediately upon entering. She went to the bathroom and into the shower. She turned the cold water on full and let it blast the fatigue from her body and her mind. She was furious. Furious that someone dare threaten Blair Powell for no other reason than the position she represented. She was furious at herself for allowing her feelings for Blair to interfere with her duty. She was furious that the thought of any harm coming to Blair terrified her.
When the phone rang two hours later informing her that Blair had returned to her penthouse apartment, she was seated in front of her large bay windows, dressed in a starched white shirt, black silk trousers, and a charcoal gray silk jacket. She had been waiting for the call, her mind uncommonly still. She felt sure of herself for the first time in weeks.
**********
"What's the emergency?" Blair asked more abruptly than she had intended. She stood across the room from Cam, having barely gotten out of the shower when she had been informed that her security chief was on her way up. "This isn't a very good time. Can't we do this later?"
She had not seen Cameron in the ten days since they had returned from the ski resort. She had worked feverishly, spending hours applying paint to canvas -- sweeping abstract vistas of anger and longing and frustrated desire. When finally her emotions had run dry, she looked up from her easel and felt the walls of her loft closing in on her. Cameron's unbidden image still haunted her. The comfort of Cam's embrace on the airplane had been harder to forget than the sexual desire she had felt previously. Lust was something she could control, ignoring it if necessary. What she felt for Cameron Roberts was something she hadn't experienced since she had been innocent enough to believe in love. More than anything else, it frightened her.
She thought her normally imperturbable security chief looked tense, and Cam's eyes showed a hint of shadow that spoke of fatigue. Blair's stomach tightened.
"What is it?" she asked quietly.
"There's been further contact from the stalker," Cam said flatly. "A photograph was left -- a photograph that makes it clear that he's been watching you. It may be nothing more than his way of letting us know that he's around - empty posturing. But it may also be an indication that he's escalating. I have to assume that to be true."
Blair took a deep breath. "What do you intend to do about it?"
"I thought it only right to inform you first that I am flying to Washington later this morning to conference with the Chief of Staff and my bosses. I would anticipate that a task force will be formed to investigate and apprehend this individual."
Blair said nothing, turning to look out her windows into the park below. She thought she knew how a caged animal felt. "What will that mean for me?"
Cameron saw the rigid set of her back, and heard the slight tremor in Blair's voice which she tried to hide. For an instant, Cam wanted to take Blair into her arms and comfort her. Instead, she forced herself to say, "I would imagine you'll be moved out of the city until he's apprehended."
Blair spun around, her blue eyes nearly purple with fury. "You mean they'll close me up in some compound with guards 24 hours a day, as if my life were so insignificant I could walk away and leave everything behind."
"No! As if your life were too important to risk for single moment!"
"Bullshit!" Blair spat. "The only thing you people care about is protecting the reputation of the United States government and the people who run it."
Blair turned on her heel and stalked to the opposite side of the room, stepping behind a half-wall partition that enclosed her sleeping area. After a moment, Cameron followed. Blair was hastily throwing clothes into a suitcase.
"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" Cameron said, a deadly seriousness in her tone.
Blair didn't bother to look up. She threw jeans and underwear into the bag, searching on the dresser for her wallet and keys.
"I'm getting out of here. I wouldn't suggest you try to stop me. I don't think my father would be pleased if I were man-handled by one of his Secret Service agents." Then she reache
d for her bag and was stunned when Cameron grasped her forcibly by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.
"You listen to me! I don't give a fuck what your father thinks! I don't even give a fuck what you think! You're not leaving this apartment."
For a brief second, Cameron became every person who had ever conspired to keep Blair a captive in a life she had never chosen. A life she had been forced to live by virtue of her father's ambition. She swung her hand at Cameron's face, lashing out not at the woman who had done nothing more than attempt to protect her, but at the faceless many who had carried out their orders despite her wishes.
Cameron intercepted the blow with her left arm, angry not at Blair for attempting to strike her, but at Blair's stubborn refusal to accept that she was in danger. Cameron's fear surfaced on a wave of uncontrollable desire. She pulled Blair into her arms and covered Blair's lips with her own. She kissed her roughly, her hands pinning Blair's arms to her sides as she pressed her body hard against Blair's. For a moment Blair was too stunned to react, but there was never an instant of resistance. When she felt Cameron's mouth on hers, she kissed her back, her tongue pressing urgently to join Cameron's, her arms clutching Cameron's waist, her legs straddling Cameron's thigh tightly.
Cam's breath rasped in her chest as reason threatened to desert her. She wanted Blair so badly, and her body was racing beyond her control. She groaned, moving her head enough to bury her face against Blair's neck. Blair arched her pelvis into Cam and tilted her head back, exposing her neck as if for sacrifice.
"Oh oh god, Cameron god please -- touch me," she managed to gasp.
The sound of Blair's voice sliced through Cam's consciousness, paralyzing her as awareness crashed upon her.
My god, what am I doing!
Cam halted her feverish caresses, but did not let go of the woman in her arms. Instead, she cradled her closer, pressing her lips to Blair's ear.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forgive me," Cam whispered urgently, her body shuddering with arousal.
"No!" Blair choked. "Don't stop. God, don't stop."
"I have to," Cameron murmured in anguish. "I have to." She couldn't do this, not again. She couldn't feel this much, she couldn't want this much, she couldn't be this vulnerable. She had not touched another woman with passion since the morning she had last made love to Janet. Six hours later she had held her lover as she lay dying. She had vowed never to feel the longing, nor the loss, again.
Blair pushed away from her unsteadily, running her trembling hands through her hair. Her eyes were bruised, from passion and from the pain of Cam's rejection.
"No, of course you can't. It's not in your job description, is it, Commander? You can't feel anything for me because it would interfere with your duty. Isn't that right?"
Cam willed her voice to be steady. "When I meet with the others in Washington later today, I'm going to resign from this position. Whatever you may think of me, I will not jeopardize your safety by remaining. I can't do my duty, simply because I can't think of you as just another assignment."
Cam turned to leave.
"Wait!" Blair called.
Something nearly helpless in her voice caused Cam to stop.
"I have to attend the opening of the new children's wing at the city hospital this afternoon at three. Can't this wait until after that? It's been arranged for months, and there are children who might not - be there - later."
Cam nodded slowly. "I'll leave for Washington right after that."
**********
At two thirty Cam stood outside Blairs door, dressed much the same as she had been that morning. She had changed shirts, substituting a pale gray silk for the white. Blair opened her apartment door, her eyes meeting Cams.
"Will you come in with me?" Blair asked in an unusual display of vulnerability.
"Every step," Cam said quietly.
Blair wore a simple black sheath, a string of gray pearls at her neck. Her low heels brought her to exactly Cams height. Together they were a striking couple. As Blair stepped to Cams side, Cam touched her hand softly.
"It will be all right."
Three other agents joined them as they exited the elevator and moved toward the lobby doors. Mac had the limo waiting at the curb, the rear door open. The bright afternoon sunlight outside the large glass doors cast a blinding glare directly into their faces. Stark and Johnson exited first, followed by Cam and another agent - Blair between them. Automatically, Cam looked up, squinting into the sun, scanning the buildings across the small square. She sensed rather than saw movement flickering somewhere in the haze that silhouetted the ornate cornices along the rooftops.
Cameron Roberts' instincts were her guiding force - the one thing in her life she neither questioned nor doubted. She stepped quickly in front of Blair, pushing her backwards into the shelter of the entrance. Blair looked more confused than frightened.
Cam must have tripped, because the next thing she knew, she was kneeling on the sidewalk, trying to catch her breath. A cacophony of cries filled her head as agents screamed into their mikes.
Code red, code red. Oh fuckfuckfuck!.
"Get her inside," Cam ordered, but her voice came out a whisper on a plume of red mist. She had her gun in her right hand, but it was very difficult to raise her arm. She turned her head with effort, her vision oddly blurred.
Blair was surrounded by secret service agents who were half carrying her back into the building. Blair appeared to be struggling, screaming something, her hand outstretched toward Cam.
Shes safe
Cams mind was quite clear, and she relaxed, accepting the strange lassitude that suffused her. She rolled slowly onto her back, opening her hand, letting her gun rest gently on the sidewalk. She stared up into the bluest sky she could ever recall, then peacefully closed her eyes as her heart stopped beating.
Chapter Eighteen
Someone far away screamed her name, an agonized, animal scream of pain. Then - nothing.
"We need another line here ... Hang more fluid Son of a bitch! I can't get a blood pressure ... Where the fuck is the O neg... Push the intracardiac epi again... Here we go-- crack her chest ... Anything? ... I've got a rhythm... Shit, still no pulse ... Keep up the compression ... Nothing ... Pump more blood ... Come on, come on Normal sinus rhythm... Oh, man - tell them to move it "
Cam had no memory for the trip, or the frantic 40 minutes in the emergency room before she was transported to the operating room. For the first few days, she was kept sedated in the intensive care unit, a tube in her trachea delivering oxygen, larger tubes in her chest removing blood and tissue fluids. A machine breathed for her; she could neither move nor talk. Occasionally some stimulus would penetrate her consciousness, and she would register some small sensation - sound, a light, someone touching her. Always, there would be a soft voice, murmuring words of consolation that had no meaning, but were strangely soothing. Pain was a distant thunder, rolling slowly through the landscape of her awareness, ever present.
"Hurts..."
"I know, darling, I know ... Can't you give her something, for god's sake!"
"Cameron, you're going to be all right. Hold on please. I need you to live."
The voice was so familiar, yet the face so elusive. Once, Cam opened her eyes and was certain that the tear-stained face bending near her own was Blair's. But that couldn't be right, could it? The next time she opened her eyes, she was lucid enough to realize it was only a nurse.
Cam listened to snippets of conversation, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening to her. Unfortunately, there were huge gaps in her consciousness, destroying any sense of reality.
A man's voice, "Let me drive you home. You need to get some rest."
"No. Not yet. They said another 24 hours before they were sure..."
"Please, it won't help..." The man again, insistent, but gentle.
"It helps me ."
Cam was aware of people touching her. Turning her, covering her, bathing her. The single touch that a
nchored her the most, however, was a gentle hand that seemed to enclose hers for hours on end. Whenever she could summon the will, Cam squeezed the fingers clasping hers, and the voice would come again, murmuring tender words of love and encouragement in her ear.
"Who.. are..."
"It's all right, love, don't try to talk now."
"Stay .."
"I will."
******
Cameron lay quietly, eyes closed, taking stock of her situation. Most of the tubes she had been dimly aware of the last few days were gone. The noise level around her had also decreased, and she sensed that she wasn't in the intensive care unit anymore. A hand slowly stroked her hair. She opened her eyes and focused on the woman beside her. She was surprised at how bright the sunlight filtering through the window appeared.
"Hello darling."
Cameron reached for the fingers softly brushing her cheek. She was amazed, and not a little frightened, at how difficult a task that was. She hoped she didn't looked as weak as she felt. "Hello, mother."
Her memories converged all at once, and panic ripped through her.
"Blair Powell! Is she all right? Was she hurt?"
She actually tried to sit up, and found that she was unable to raise her shoulders more than a fraction of an inch. The pain she had been living with for days suddenly coalesced into a bright hot lance of fire searing through her chest. "Oh oh--," she gasped involuntarily, collapsing against the pillows.
"Lie still, Cameron," her mother admonished firmly. "Ms. Powell is fine. She wasn't injured. In fact, you were the only one--" she hesitated for a moment, steadying her voice. "You were the only one who was shot."
Cam closed her eyes briefly, sapped by the effort to sit up. Despite her fatigue, she felt peaceful and content. Sleep was coming quickly, but she needed to know, "Who is in charge? Who is looking after her?"
"I believe it's a gentleman named Macintosh, or something like that."
