by Radclyffe
"I can't take it." Savard's gaze wavered as she opened and clenched her hands spasmodically. "I can't lose her. I can't. I just can't."
"I know."
Suddenly, Savard jerked, and her tormented eyes widened. Her pupils, dark passageways to her own personal hell, flickered wildly. "Oh my God. Blair? Is she—"
"Pretty pissed off," Cam said with a tender laugh. "But otherwise, she sounded fine."
When Savard saw the pain shadow Cam's face and heard the tremor of desperate love in her voice, she understood that she was not alone in her agony. She drew her shoulders back and straightened. Her blue eyes cleared, and some of the color returned to her face. "What do you need me to do, Commander?"
Carp's expression hardened as she squeezed Savard's shoulders and then let go. "I need you to tap into your sources and get me as much information as you can about a similar occurrence yesterday at a government complex in New Jersey—the nature of the suspected toxic agent, number and type of casualties, whether any perpetrators took credit for the attack—anything. Get me that as quickly you can."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll be back as soon as I have something."
As Savard turned away, Felicia stepped up to Cam with Valerie just behind her. "The bomb team is still outside the building, so I assume we're not dealing with explosives this time."
"No," Cam said with a quick look around. Seeing no one close enough to overhear, she rendered a rapid recounting of what Blair and Stark had told her. As she spoke, she watched Valerie's face, looking for some sign that the news of a biological weapon did not come as a surprise to the CIA. "Do you have anything to add, Agent Lawrence?"
"When is the team from Detrick expected?" Valerie asked.
Cam checked her watch. "ETA eighteen minutes."
"Let's take a little walk," Valerie said, edging through the crowd that was clustered around the command vehicle.
The three women cut briskly through the milling bodies until they reached the gated entrance to the east side of the park. Cam removed her keys and opened the gate, letting it swing closed and lock behind them. While outside the block-square oasis of trees and flowers and wending walkways the streets and sidewalks seethed with activity, inside the quietude was seductively soothing. Cam strode twenty feet down a narrow stone path and then turned abruptly to face Valerie. "What else don't we know that we should have been told? If you people put her at risk, I swear I'll make someone pay for it."
Valerie shook her head. "I don't know what we know and what we don't, Cameron. I'm counterintelligence, not counterterrorism."
"You're a spy."
"I'm a field agent," Valerie said with an impatient shrug. "I have a broad assignment to monitor individuals who"—she hesitated—"might have information of interest to our government."
"Which means what?"
"Which means that I have no reason to be briefed on whatever intel Langley might have related to what's happening here. Have we suspected that certain unfriendly governments are intensely involved with developing bioweapons? Absolutely. Was there an indication of an imminent attack within this country? I'm not aware of any such intelligence."
Cam impatiently pushed a hand through her hair. "Can you find out? Or is this information highway only running in one direction?"
Unconsciously, Valerie closed the distance between them and placed her hand on Cam's upper arm. Her face and voice were filled with sympathy. "Cameron, I'll do what I can. But you must know how closed the system is, even to those of us on the inside. There isn't a more guarded organization in the world."
"Try," Cam said quietly. "Just.. .try."
Valerie nodded, stroking Cam's arm slowly. "I will."
They stared at one another, anger and compassion warring in their eyes.
Felicia spoke into the gathering silence. "What do you think the team from Detrick will do when they get here? That building is a security nightmare now."
At last, Cam turned and looked through the treetops, their leaves a riotous palette of oranges and reds and golds, to where the sun glinted off the windows of Blair's loft. Despite the fact that the apartment was fortified like a prison, within those walls Blair had had a certain degree of freedom. It was the one place where no one watched her; the one safe haven where she could create her art. Now, she was about to lose even that.
"They'll move them. Then they'll quarantine them."
*
"What did Cam say?" Blair asked.
"Not much, because I don't think there's much to tell yet," Stark answered truthfully. "The team from Fort Detrick will be here soon, though."
"And then what?"
"I'm not sure." Involuntarily, Stark glanced to the far end of the room where the remaining canvases stood, imagining she could still see the white powder drifting on the bright early-morning shafts of sunlight. "I guess it depends on what they think it is."
Blair glanced over to where the male Secret Service agent stood at the window with his back to them, watching the street below. She didn't know him, and although she trusted him on principle, years of habit had made her circumspect; she hesitated to reveal her fears and uncertainties in front of anyone except those she trusted most. "What if they don't know what it is?"
Stark thought about the morning briefing and the possibility of anthrax or something far worse. Her stomach rolled, and she quickly suppressed the shudder of fear that followed. Her responsibility was to contain the situation, and although there was nothing she could do if they had been seriously compromised by some biological agent, she could carry the worry herself and spare Blair's peace of mind, at least for the moment. "I'm sure whatever it is, they'll know what to do."
*
The black van with the revolving red light on top edged slowly through the sea of bodies toward Blair's building, finally coming to a halt with the right front wheel up on the sidewalk. The side door slid open, and two men climbed out. A woman stepped down from the front passenger compartment. All wore Army uniforms. The driver, also in uniform, exited and hurried to the rear. Once there, he pulled open the
double doors and reached inside. With efficient movements, he passed full-body coveralls constructed of Tychem F, a material affording the highest level of protection against biological and chemical agents, to the three Army officers.
Cam and Stacy Landers arrived as the team members were suiting up.
"I'm Cameron Roberts, Egret's acting security chief. I want to go up with you," Cam said.
The older of the two men, a well-built redhead with sun-weathered skin and a military haircut, shook his head. "Sorry, Agent...Roberts, was it? It's against protocol."
"Look," Cam said sharply, unable to contain her frustration, "that's the president's dau—"
The only woman on the team, whose name tag read Captain R. Andrews, interrupted quietly. "We know who she is, Agent Roberts. Just as soon as we have determined the nature of the situation, we'll brief you. You'll be far more valuable down here in terms of coordinating the extraction and containing communications than you would be up there."
Cam studied the warm green eyes that looked steadily into hers. Andrews, her collar-length chestnut hair worn in casual layers, appeared to be in her early thirties. She was about Blair's size, but more muscular—a rower or a serious lifter, possibly. Her insignia indicated Army Medical Corps. There was an intensity in her expression that said she understood the source of Cam's concern. Cam nodded. "I want a report on all of them, ASAP."
"You'll have it," Andrews said.
Silently, Cam watched as the three zipped up their suits, pulled on the protective hoods, and adjusted their goggles and gas masks. The NYPD HAZMAT team and Landers's security forces had cordoned off a path to the front door, and the team from Fort Derrick lumbered into the building and disappeared, leaving her to wait.
*
Blair stood just behind Stark as she pulled open the apartment door. The sight that greeted them was like a scene in a science-fiction movie. Three people in space suits, gender
indeterminate, stood in the foyer carrying oversized tackle boxes. Clearly, whatever they think is in here is something seriously dangerous,
"Please step back," a male voice said through a microphone. "Move to your left and remain stationary."
"Who are you?" Blair asked, backing up slowly as the three entered in single file.
"I'm Colonel Grau," the first figure informed her, advancing relentlessly, "and these are Captains Andrews and Demetri."
A female voice then said, "Please come with me, Ms. Powell," as the smallest figure stepped away from the triumvirate. "You too, Agent Stark. Follow me to the bathroom, please."
Blair realized, as she and Stark fell in behind the shrouded form, that she shouldn't be surprised that these people knew the layout of her loft. They undoubtedly knew her bra size and every other intimate detail of her life. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the male Secret Service agent being led toward the guest bathroom by the third team member. She stopped walking when she saw Colonel Grau opening his equipment box where her canvases were stored. "I want to see what he's doing."
Captain Andrews caught Blair's wrist in a thickly gloved hand. "I'm sorry, Ms. Powell, but that won't be possible."
Blair's response was immediate and instinctual. She'd been held incommunicado for several hours. She had no idea how grave the threat was, and she was angry and frightened. She couldn't see her lover, her life had once more been invaded, and now her last refuge was destroyed. Swiftly, she broke the restraining grip with a move she had practiced countless times in the dojo and in the training ring.
Captain Andrews did not try to stop her, but only said, "Are those paintings worth your life?"
The only thing Blair saw as she stopped her abrupt charge toward Colonel Grau, who had just cut a postage-stamp-sized piece of canvas from the center of a completed painting and dropped it into a test tube, was Cam's face. The only thing more important to her than her work, her freedom, and even her life, was Cam. If she had the choice, she would never do anything to hurt her. She wouldn't risk her life if it meant Cam would be the one to pay the price. She turned her back on what Grau was doing.
"I want to talk to Agent Roberts," Blair said.
"I know," Captain Andrews said. "Just as soon as possible."
Despite the flat, mechanical sound of her projected voice, Blair thought she detected a note of sympathy. For some reason, she believed her and didn't argue. Silently, she followed her into the bathroom.
The master bath, done in pale gold tiles and granite surrounds, was just off her bedroom. It contained a six-by-four-foot shower stall with two showerheads on facing walls in addition to the other standard features. There was room enough for the three of them to stand comfortably without crowding. Captain Andrews closed the door and knelt to remove a large red plastic biohazard bag from her equipment box. She straightened laboriously in her heavy protective suit and held it out to Stark and Blair. "Would you both please remove all of your clothing and place them in this bag."
While Blair and Stark disrobed, the officer opened the shower door, knelt once again, and proficiently removed the drain cover with a small screwdriver. Then she inserted what appeared to be a water filter in its'place.
"What is that?" Blair asked as she crammed her clothing into the red bag. She averted her gaze from Stark, who stood stiffly beside her. Blair knew how embarrassed she must be. It wasn't her own nudity that bothered her so. much, but the loss of control that accompanied it. Nevertheless, she was determined not to become a passive player in this drama. "Captain?"
"It's a biofilter."
"What exactly do you suspect that we have on us?"
Captain Andrews faced Blair, her eyes unwavering behind the thick polyurethane of her protective goggles. "We don't know, Ms. Powell. But at the moment, we must assume that you have been contaminated with an active biological agent. Until we have determined otherwise, you must be treated as if you are infected."
Infected. Not a chemical agent. Something alive. The thought of something invading her body was strangely more terrifying than the possibility of having been poisoned. Blair drew a slow breath, needing the extra few seconds to force down the surge of panic. "How long before you know?"
"I can't say. Would you please step into the shower now?"
Chapter Seventeen
B lair kept her back turned to Stark as the hot water sluiced over her. Although the shower was more spacious than an ordinary stall, if she moved back an inch, her ass would be rubbing up against Stark's. Government efficiency. Jesus.
Methodically, she scrubbed her skin with the soft plastic brush and cleansing agent that Captain Andrews had provided, trying not to think about what might already have penetrated the fragile barrier and could even now be coursing through her bloodstream. The last time she'd taken a shower with anyone, it had been Cam. They'd made love while the curtain of water shimmered like a nearly tangible wall between them and all the forces that contrived to keep them apart. She focused on the memory of Cam's face as they joined—so fierce and tender—on the touch of her lover's knowing hands bringing her to orgasm, and on the sweet sound of their passion dancing on the falling water. The acrid scent of something oddly familiar drew her from her reverie.
"What is this stuff?" Blair asked. "Bleach?"
"Sodium hydrochlorite," Captain Andrews replied, opening two large foil packs and extracting synthetic mesh sheets slightly larger than bath towels. "Step down onto the mat and wrap this around you, please."
"Is that a fancy way of saying bleach?" Blair draped herself in the thin covering, discovering strategically placed Velcro tabs that allowed her to close it around her chest just above her breasts and at the waist.
"Yes."
"Well, that's a straight answer, at least."
Although the sheet reached almost to Blair's knees, the shape of her body was clearly outlined beneath it. She glanced once at Stark, similarly covered, noting the curve of her small breasts and strong thighs. Oh, poor Paula. This must he so hard for her. Blair indicated the thin white covering. "Tell me you have something else for us to wear."
"Yes, I do." Captain Andrews passed a surgical mask to each woman. "These hook behind your ears with the elastic str—"
"The clothes?" Blair asked pointedly, slipping on the mask.
"Once we exit the building, you'll be provided with temporary coveralls."
"And just where exactly are we going to change?" Stark asked.
"On the sidewalk."
*
Cam paced the sidewalk in front of Blair's building, alternately checking her watch and scanning the building's facade, as if she might at any moment be able to see through the brick and glass to her lover. She wheeled around when she heard the driver's radio crackle to life and hurried over to him. Stacy Landers reached him at the same time.
"What's the status, Lieutenant?" Landers asked.
"They're on their way down." He carried a stack of silver packs the size of small knapsacks to the zippered front of a white polyurethane enclosure that he had erected between the side doors of the black vehicle and the double glass doors of the building's lobby. The entire structure, resembling a long narrow tunnel, extended like an accordion from inside the vehicle and was supported by thin semicircular hoops at four-foot intervals. When he unzipped the flaps and folded them outward, he created a chute that led directly from the front door of the building to the car. Then he placed a stack of foil-wrapped packages on the plastic floor just inside the front opening.
From a few feet away, Cam observed everything warily. She could feel the dozens of eyes on her back as the first responders clustered behind the barriers that had been hastily erected to keep even the emergency personnel back from the immediate scene. "Environmental protection suits?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I want you to suit me up so I can go in the vehicle with them."
He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the front door, his posture erect and alert. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't
do that. Authorized personnel only."
She took one quick step forward before Landers caught her arm. Cam whipped her head around, a sharp retort on her lips.
"Just hold it together a little longer, Cam," Landers said in a low but forceful tone. "Let them secure the assets, and then we'll worry about access."
Assets. Packages. Targets.
Cam swore, but held her ground. Suddenly, the glass doors opened, and the three officers in protective suits exited in a cluster, each guiding a figure shrouded in white. Cam sought Blair's gaze above the surgical mask, and for one brief instant, they connected. Her lover's blue eyes, so clear and strong, called to her.
"Blair," Cam whispered.
And then she was gone.
Cam stood on the sidewalk, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life, while all around her, activity escalated. Landers ordered the HAZMAT team back into the building to complete decontamination procedures, while firemen were dispatched to secure the main water and electrical supplies. The perimeter that had been hastily erected around the square had traffic snarled for blocks in every direction. The wail of police sirens was a constant backdrop to her own clamoring thoughts. For the first time in her life, she couldn't formulate a plan. Someone had taken Blair, and that single devastating fact left her reeling. It didn't matter that those in charge were presumably friendly. She trusted no one and struggled to subdue the panic that ate at the edges of her reason.
"Cameron."
Cam glanced down at the manicured hand loosely holding her wrist. She recognized the slender fingers, the perfect oval nails, the practiced touch. She raised her eyes to Valerie's and saw that the CIA agent had a cell phone cradled against her ear. Valerie smiled faintly and nodded at her, and Cam's head cleared.
Where? Cam mouthed.
Valerie nodded again but said nothing, obviously still listening to whoever was on the other end of the line. Standing nearby, Felicia watched just as acutely, and the instant Valerie closed the phone, snapped, "Well? Do you have a location for us?"
