by Radclyffe
“I’m sorry,” Stark said ingenuously. “What link is there between you and the escort?”
“I know this woman in the photograph because I’ve been involved with her, professionally.”
“Oh.” Stark blushed but held Cam’s gaze. “Can anyone prove that?”
Shrugging, Cam replied, “I have no idea.”
“Well,” Mac said briskly. “That’s one of the things we’re going to have to find out. And from the looks of things, pretty quickly.”
“I agree,” Savard said firmly. “We need to devise strategy, divide up the work, and narrow down the suspects in short order—before this whole thing spins out of control.”
“Suspects?” Blair said in surprise.
“Yes,” Cam said, looking at Savard. She and the FBI agent were the only two people in the room with true investigative experience. Stark and Mac had both been part of the protective arm of the Secret Service their entire careers. “Who stands to gain by this?”
“Well, as you mentioned before,” Blair mused. “Any reporter who uncovers an elite escort service in Washington D.C. that caters to government employees and visiting dignitaries would certainly garner quite a reputation. It’s a career maker and reason enough.”
“That’s true,” Mac said. “Except it seems unlikely that a reporter would also be interested in impugning your reputation. That would only piss off the White House. So why release the photo of you and the Commander to the newspaper before the story breaks? In fact, why involve you at all?”
“Point taken,” Blair agreed.
“What about Patrick Doyle?” Stark offered, carefully not looking at Renee Savard. “He hasn’t been happy since the Commander upstaged him in the capture of Loverboy—”
“Before that, really,” Mac interjected. “He’s always had it in for her.”
Stark nodded eagerly. “If he’s behind it, that would explain a photograph of the Commander with the woman in the bar. She could have been an FBI agent or just a decoy he set up. We all know the FBI has been known to shadow public figures to gather information on them.”
“I don’t disagree with any of that,” Savard said calmly. “But this looks like a much bigger operation than one man could possibly orchestrate. Especially if you’re talking about infiltrating and exposing a very well-shielded escort service that’s obviously been operating undetected for a long time. That takes undercover agents and people with computer expertise who can access IRS records, phone records, trace calls—the whole nine yards. Doyle couldn’t do that on his own.”
“Besides,” Blair pointed out, “none of this explains why we are getting these cryptic messages. If they were threats, why hasn’t something been demanded? Why hasn’t someone asked for money or threatened to go public if Cam doesn’t resign or put pressure on me to intervene with my father about some upcoming vote?”
“Maybe,” Cam muttered, “maybe it’s a little of all of the above.”
Four sets of eyes stared at her questioningly.
Chapter Thirty
Cam thought aloud. “Maybe there is a political and a personal agenda at work here. Maybe the FBI or a Justice division or both is gathering information for some future political purpose. Maybe Doyle is part of it or knows someone who is. If he’s privy to what’s going on, he may have discovered my involvement with the escort service by chance. Maybe he’s taking advantage of that knowledge.”
“How?” Mac asked warily.
Cam met his eyes. “Stewart Carlisle informed me yesterday that Justice has initiated an independent investigation into what happened in New York. They’re looking at me, specifically. I could be suspended at any time.”
Mac and Stark exploded together with a series of expletives and outraged remonstrations. At length, Cam held up her hand to still them.
“For some reason, Carlisle hasn’t put up much of a roadblock, which I find unusual. All I can figure is if there is a large-scale operation in place to exert influence using blackmail tactics, maybe he’s in a crunch, too.”
“Can something like that really be happening?” Blair asked incredulously. “We’re not talking about the Hoover administration here.”
“It didn’t all stop in the mid-70s when Hoover was forced to retire,” Savard said regretfully. “It’s just gotten more subterranean. It’s been rumored for some time that the new Director—whose appointment your father opposed, I might add—has been pushing Justice hard for permission to use surveillance in the private sector, including electronic wiretaps and computer investigation into corporate and private accounts, ostensibly under the guise of national security.”
“All right,” Blair interjected. “So if there is some covert group of high-level intelligence agents, or politicians, or both gathering information, what would be the reason?”
“Almost anything,” Cam said grimly. “Anything from controlling promotions within various departments to influencing who will be the next party nomination for president. That’s what’s so dangerous about these operations. Information gathered today might be used a decade from now to force someone’s vote in a critical Congressional decision or be used to place a candidate sympathetic to law enforcement in a newly created cabinet position. When, where, and how intelligence is used can’t always be projected—which makes it impossible to neutralize. That’s also what makes it so potent a weapon.”
“For the time being,” Savard said emphatically, “we need to concentrate on discovering as much as possible about who’s behind this.” She stared at the opposite wall for a second and then began ticking off points on one hand. “Mac—you’ve already been looking into the reporter who provided the first photograph to the Associated Press, right?”
He nodded. “I should have a name by morning.”
“Good. What we need is to work backwards from there. The reporter needs to be interviewed and if they won’t provide a source, we need to dig deep into his or her background. There has to be a connection to someone in D.C. Whoever leaked the photograph almost certainly used someone they knew and trusted.”
“Fine. I’ve got that,” Mac said. “I’ve also got the video tapes of the couriers who delivered the packages. I’ll run their scanned images through the DMV, NCIC, and Armed Forces data banks. If I can ID them, I’ll interview them.”
“Try for a match with the registered courier services in New York and D.C., too,” Cam added. “They have to be bonded, so they’ll have photos. I doubt our Deep Throat used a service, but you never know.”
Mac nodded.
“Two—Stark and I will run background checks on everyone associated with you, Commander,” Savard said evenly. “We’ll need a list of friends, lovers, professional associates—anyone who could be remotely connected.”
At Cam’s raised eyebrows, Savard continued, “We have to assume that if there is a personal agenda in addition to a political one, you are the epicenter.”
“All right, Savard. You’ll get the list.”
“We’ll need the name of the woman in the photograph, too,” Stark said evenly.
Cam shook her head. “I don’t know it.”
Everyone, including Blair, looked at her in surprise.
“The service was highly discreet and took extensive precautions to provide anonymity to both clients and personnel.”
“I suppose if we have to, we could run this photo through the national databanks, too,” Stark offered.
“She’s not involved,” Cam said with certainty. “And I’d like to keep her out of it if at all possible.”
“Understood,” Savard said briskly. “On the other hand, it might become necessary.”
“If it does,” Cam said thoughtfully, “there’s a wine glass in my dishwasher in D.C. that will have her fingerprints on it.”
Cam glanced sideways at Blair, concerned about her response to that fact, but Blair just smiled faintly and shook her head. Cam grinned fleetingly, then turned her attention back to Savard.
“Well then,” Savard said with
satisfaction. “If we need it, we’ll go get it. For now, I’ll settle for the numbers you used to contact her, and how you identified yourself.”
“Done.” Cam hesitated. “There’s one other thing that needs to be done. We need to run background checks on everyone in Ms. Powell’s security detail. There may be an association with a political figure or a previous intelligence assignment that ties in with this.”
“It can’t be one of us,” Mac exclaimed. “What would be the point? The Secret Service exists to protect the lives, and by extension, the reputations of public figures—not destroy them.”
Cam shrugged. “Maybe one of us is doing double duty and working for the FBI or a Justice department probe.”
“That would be unbelievable,” Stark said vehemently.
“People are known to do many things for career advancement,” Cam pointed out. “It has to be done, but its not fair to put you two on that. I’ll do it myself.”
Both Mac and Stark nodded glumly.
“The last thing we need is a computer cracker,” Savard said. “We need to get into the FBI and Justice files. And well need to break the escort ring, too.”
Everyone in the room looked at each other.
“Well, none of us qualifies,” Cam remarked.
“Felicia does,” Mac said quietly.
“No way,” Cam said stridently. “I’ve already involved too many people. Plus, she’s new to the group and we don’t know her well enough yet.”
“I know her,” Mack said firmly. “I’ll vouch for her, Commander.”
Cam studied him seriously for a moment, then shook her head again. “I just can’t do it, Mac. I’ve already endangered all of you by involving you in this operation. I can’t bring in anyone else, because I can’t offer any kind of protection.”
“What if she volunteers?” Mac persisted.
“Besides,” Stark pointed out reasonably. “If somebody brings you down, it’s going to taint all of us—and we’ll all be out of a job anyhow.”
“I have to agree with both of them, Commander,” Savard said. “If we can’t get into the files, we’re never going to get a complete picture of how deep this goes and who might be behind it. If we don’t use our own internal resources, we’ll have to go out on a limb and involve an outsider. That’s even more dangerous than using someone we’ve only known for a short time.” She paused, then added more softly, “I don’t think anyone here doubts that Felicia can be trusted.”
Cam rubbed her face with both hands. “It sounds like I’m out-voted, then.”
Blair moved a little closer to Cam on the sofa and rested her hand on Cam’s knee. “You don’t have to worry, Commander. It won’t happen very often.”
Everyone laughed, and for the first time in more than a week, Cam’s headache completely vanished.
“Well,” Cam said, surveying her friends and colleagues. “It looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us. We’re running against the clock, only I don’t know how much time we have, not much, I’m sure. What we do know is that Ms. Powell is due to go abroad in a little over three days. I don’t want this to follow her to Paris.”
“Felicia may be the key,” Mac said. “The files are the only thing that will give us hard evidence—unless we can find a primary witness.”
“Maybe Deep Throat?” Blair asked hopefully.
“Possible,” Stark commented. “Except he—or she—clearly doesn’t want to be found. If they’re friendly, and I tend to agree that’s the most likely scenario, for some reason they’re afraid to approach you directly. It’s not going to be easy to draw them out.”
“I’ll brief Davis personally in the morning,” Cam said, unable to hide her bone-deep weariness. “But, I’m going to urge her not to do this. She’s at the most risk. If she can crack their computers, someone on the other end can no doubt can track her back here.”
“I don’t think so, Commander,” Mac said with certainty and an unexpected note of pride. “She was assigned to go after Loverboy because she’s one of the best computer hackers in the world. I have a feeling she knows how to cover her tracks when she’s breaking in someone’s back door.”
“Let’s hope so,” Cam rejoined, still unhappy about involving yet another agent. “We’ll see after I’ve talked with her.”
“I’m going to see her tonight,” Mac offered quickly. “With your permission, Commander, I can brief her. It will save time.”
“Whoa, Mac,” Savard jibed, her blue eyes twinkling. “Fast worker.”
He blushed, but his grin was pleased. “Not that fast—she said no the first six times I asked her out.” He cleared his throat, suddenly serious. “Commander?”
Cam glanced at the faces of those around her and knew the decision had already been made. Sighing, she shrugged. “Go ahead, Mac. Bring her up to date on everything we’ve got so far.”
Mac gathered his briefcase and placed the envelope with the photographs inside along with the surveillance tapes. “I’ll speak with you in the morning then, Commander.”
“Let’s plan on a noon meeting for updates all around.” She glanced at Blair. “Is it all right if we meet in the Aerie?”
“Of course,” Blair said.
“Let’s everyone try to get some down time then,” Cam suggested as she waved good night to Mac. Turning to Blair’s primary guard, she asked, “Ready to go, Stark?”
Stark hesitated, glancing quickly at Savard. Before she could speak, Blair interrupted.
“I thought I’d spend the evening at Diane’s, Cam. You can take me there, can’t you?”
“Of course. Stark, you’re officially off duty now anyhow. I’ll call the command center and have someone meet us downstairs and escort Ms. Powell to her destination.”
“Don’t bother, Commander,” Stark said without a second’s hesitation. “I can accompany her.”
Cam sensed rather than saw Savard stiffen, and the fog cleared enough from her exhausted brain to register Blair’s small sigh of disapproval, too.
“That’s all right, Agent,” Cam said, already pulling the cell phone from her belt. “Take what’s rest of the night off. My orders.”
After Cam arranged for the night detail to meet them with the second vehicle downstairs, they said goodnight to Stark and Savard and left.
“I can’t believe you just volunteered to work another night. What is that, three in a row?” Savard asked with a threatening tone in her voice. “Getting stood up two nights straight would seriously bruise my ego.”
“Well, it’s kind of a tricky situation since the Commander and Egret are trying not to be too obvious about spending time alone together,” Stark began seriously. “It’s easier if I —”
“Paula, shut up.”
Then Savard effectively implemented the order by pressing her mouth to Stark’s. Surprise turned to a soft moan as Savard’s tongue moved gently over Stark’s. When the kiss ended, Stark drew a shaky breath.
“That was awfully nice,” she said, her breath catching a little on the words.
Savard rested her palm against Stark’s cheek, gently brushing the dark hair back from her temple with her fingertips. “Yes, it was. And there’s a lot more where that came from.”
“There’s no quota or anything is there?” Stark inquired as she intertwined her fingers with Savard’s.
“None at all.” Savard’s voice was husky and low. “In fact, I believe there’s an endless supply.”
“I want to make love with you so much,” Stark confessed, her body vibrating with urgency. “I’ve wanted to for what feels like forever.”
The simplicity of her statement struck Savard harder than a blow. Sharply, she drew in a breath, her blood suddenly racing. “I can’t wait.”
Stark stepped close and slipped one arm around her waist. Just before she kissed her, she whispered, “Then let’s not.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Cam leaned forward to relay instructions to Foster, who was at the wheel, then settled back in the re
ar of the Suburban with a sigh. Rubbing her temple absently, she said, “I ought to be able to run the first level background checks tonight.”
“Cam,” Blair said sharply, “you’re about ready to fall down. You need some sleep.”
“I’m okay.” Cam smiled and consciously straightened her shoulders, shaking her head to clear her mind. “I can nap between—”
“I want you to stay at Diane’s with me tonight.” Blair’s voice was calm and quiet, but there was a finality in the way she spoke that suggested she was not going to yield.
Cam was silent, considering her choices. It wouldn’t be the first time that she and Blair had spent hours, even entire nights, together at some place other than Blair’s apartment. Their being alone didn’t necessarily imply that they were involved personally—and at this point, it seemed moot what anyone thought about their relationship. In truth, she was too tired to make a good decision, and she wanted to be with Blair. “All right.”
“Good.” Cam’s easy assent only confirmed Blair’s suspicions that her lover was teetering on the brink of exhaustion. She had expected more of a fight, but she was happy to have avoided it. She too was emotionally and physically drained, and all she really wanted to do was see that Cam got some rest.
Fifteen minutes later, she and Cam stood outside Diane Bleecker’s apartment door. When it opened, Diane lazily raised one eyebrow as she leaned against the doorjamb in a burgundy dressing down, looking like a siren from a 1940’s movie. “Good evening.”
“Hi,” Blair said, taking Cam’s hand as she leaned forward to kiss Diane on the cheek. “You have houseguests for the night.”
“Goodie. I love a pajama party,” Diane said as she stepped aside to allow them entrance, her sharp eyes taking in the Secret Service agent’s pale complexion and slightly unsteady step.
“No,” Blair threw back over her shoulder, leading Cam determinedly across the living room. “We’re going directly to bed.”
“Well, you’re certainly no fun,” Diane said with an exaggerated frown. Her tone was gentle, however, when she added, “Do you need anything?”
