Radclyffe - (Honor 5) - Honor Reclaimed

by Radclyffe

  Diane swirled around. "Would you have slept with me?"

  "I wanted to," Valerie said immediately.

  "But you didn't."

  "Because I couldn't, not until you knew, and I couldn't tell you." Valerie lifted a hand and let it fall, at a loss to explain how desperately she had not wanted Diane to be Cam all over again. "I didn't want to be having this conversation after we'd made love, because I knew...I knew you'd never trust me again."

  "What makes you think I'll ever trust you now?"

  Valerie closed her eyes for a second, absorbing the blow, then shook her head sadly. "I don't. I just hope that you will."

  The silence that followed was worse than any recrimination Diane could have flung at her. Helplessly, Valerie watched Diane hurriedly leave the room, knowing there was nothing she could say to undo the hurt that had been done. She sank back down onto the couch, picked up her wine, and slowly sipped, tasting nothing.

  *

  "What do you think they've done with Fazio?" Blair asked. "Grau took him in the opposite direction when we got off the helicopter."

  "He must be in another unit somewhere," Stark said, picking at the Band-Aid they had placed in the crux of her right elbow after drawing half a dozen vials of blood. "You know, he got the full brunt of whatever that stuff was."

  Blair remembered him coughing and swearing and brushing the powder off his shirtfront. Her heart raced furiously, and for a second she felt dizzy. "It'll probably turn out to be nothing."

  Stark forced a smile. "Yeah."

  "Andrews has been gone half an hour." Blair paced. "How far you think they had to go for the cell phones?"

  "Langley?"

  Blair stopped, stared at Stark, and then started laughing. Langley— CIA Headquarters. "Probably. Like we're going to give away secrets from inside here." She stopped laughing as abruptly as she had begun and sank back down on the bed. "God, I wish I could talk to Cam."

  A shrill noise rilled the room followed by a familiar voice. "Hey."

  "Cam?" Blair jumped up and rushed to the glass window as a light came on and illuminated the room on the other side. Cam placed her hand against the glass, and Blair pressed hers to the outline of her lover's palm.

  "How are you doing, baby?" Cam asked.

  Frantically, Blair looked for the intercom while Stark rose and moved to the far side of the room, giving them a modicum of privacy.

  "There's a switch just to the left of the window," Cam instructed.

  Blair found it, flipped it, and said, "What took you so long?"

  "Heavy traffic."

  Smiling, Blair rubbed her fingertips back and forth over the glass as if she were touching Cam's skin, and the illusion of contact made her feel better than she had in hours. "What are they telling you about when we'll get out of here?"

  "They're not telling me anything yet, but as soon as I know, you will too. You feeling okay?" Cam tried to keep her tone light, but her stomach clenched as she studied her lover. Blair looked like she usually did when she was steaming. Her eyes were bright, her skin slightly flushed, and her movements quick and tight. Cam realized in that moment just how sexy Blair was when she was angry and understood, too, that it was that very fire that had instantly attracted her to the president's daughter. "Christ, you're beautiful."

  Blair grinned. "Be careful, Commander. Stark is here, and you don't want to embarrass her." Blair leaned close to the glass to look into Cam's eyes. When she spoke, she lowered her voice. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I feel fine. We both do."

  Cam pressed her hand so hard against the glass her palm was white. She wanted to touch her so badly she hurt inside.

  "Cam?" Blair asked quietly, "What's wrong with your finger?"

  "What?"

  Blair nodded toward the glass. "Your little finger. It's three times its normal size. What happened?"

  "Nothing."

  "Turn your hand over."

  "Blair—"

  "Let me see it, Cameron."

  Reluctantly, Cam complied, repeating hastily when she heard Blair gasp, "It's nothing. It's fine."

  "What happened? Sweetheart?" Blair saw Cam's face take on that careful look of consideration she always got when she was about to soften the truth with diplomacy. "And don't try to snow me. That finger is broken, isn't it? What did you do?"

  "Ah, hell. I lost my temper and jammed my hand up a little."

  Blair's heart gave a lurch. Fear for her safety was the only thing in the world that could make Cam lose control. Instantly, Blair forgot her anger at being shuffled about the country with little explanation, forgot her loathing at her confinement, forgot even the dread that something serious might be wrong with her. All she could think of was Cam, worried and in pain. "Oh, sweetheart. It's going to be okay."

  "I know." Cam worked up a smile. "I know that."

  "You need to have that x-rayed."

  "I will."

  Blair tapped the glass sharply. "Now."

  Cam grinned. "I love when you get tough."

  "You'll love me when I get out of here and kick your ass if you don't get that taken care of too."

  "Yeah, I will." When Cam spoke her voice was gravelly, and she had to look away to blink her vision clear. "So. Savard is here."

  "Good. Paula could use a visit to lift her spirits." Blair narrowed her eyes. "What?"

  "She's had it rough. You might want to prepare Stark for that."

  "Okay." When Cam took her hand from the glass, Blair said quickly, "Wait."

  Cam frowned. "What's wrong, baby?"

  "When will you be back?"

  "I'm not going anywhere," Cam said, her expression slightly incredulous. "I'll be right here in this room until you're ready to leave."

  "Like you don't have anything else to do?" Blair laughed shakily and summoned a smile. "You go get x-rayed and then go back to work. I'll be out of here in another day."

  "Nice try, Blair." Cam ran her index finger down the glass as if she were stroking Blair's cheek. "I love you."

  "Oh," Blair whispered, "I love you too."

  Chapter Nineteen

  S tark pulled one of the straight-backed armless chairs over to the window and sat hunched forward, her hands curled over her knees, her eyes on the glass. Renee stared back at her from the other side. Stark struggled not to let her shock show in her face. It had only been a day since they'd seen one another, but Renee looked as if she hadn't slept or eaten in weeks. Her slender face looked gaunt, her normally brilliant turquoise-blue eyes were a dull gray, and her strong, lithe body appeared frail. Hoping her hand didn't tremble and betray her worry, Stark reached out to flick the switch on the intercom.

  "Hi, honey."

  Savard straightened her shoulders and smiled more brightly. "Hi, sweetie. You doing okay in there?"

  "It's pretty boring, and nobody's telling us much of anything." Stark shrugged. "The usual bureaucratic story. I feel fine. So does Blair. What do you hear?"

  Savard shook her head. "Nothing yet. The commander is talking with the medical team right now. I think she was on the phone to the chief of staff too, just a few minutes ago. She won't let them stonewall us. And she won't let them keep you and Blair in the dark."

  "Thank God she's here." Stark dropped her gaze, unwilling to inflict her misery on her lover. But she couldn't help thinking that she had fucked up her first assignment pretty badly, and now the commander had to bail her out.

  "Hey! Stop blaming yourself. There's absolutely no way you could've known."

  Stark's head snapped up. "Less than a week ago there was an attempt on her life. I should've checked her apartment a lot more closely before I let her go in there."

  "Paula, sweetie, the commander and I were in that building just a few nights ago. We didn't see anything either."

  "I know. You're right," Stark said unconvincingly. "So how are you doing? You look tired."

  "Nah, I'm fine. Too much time at the computer." Savard looked over her shoulder, ensuring that she was still alone.
"Felicia and I have been dogging the computers 24/7 trying to ID the members of the assault team. So far, nothing. Dental records, fingerprints, photo databases. Zip."

  "That doesn't make sense. Those guys were trained."

  "We know," Savard said, sounding frustrated. "But we still can't put names to them. So now we're doing deep background on Foster. It's slow going, because his records were thoroughly buried when he entered the Academy."

  "That's routine with the Secret Service so no one can access our personal data and compromise us with it."

  "Yeah, the same for us. But it makes our job a lot tougher now." Savard leaned back and pushed both hands through her hair. "But Felicia will sort it all out, if anyone can."

  "Any word on what the stuff was in the Aerie?"

  "Not yet." Savard's eyes filled with tears, and she scrubbed a hand angrily across her face. "Sorry. I'm just. ..I just love you. You can't get sick, okay?"

  "Don't worry, honey. Nothing's going to happen to me." Stark clenched her hands out of sight, wishing desperately that there were something she could do to ease her lover's pain. It tore at her to see Renee so close to the edge and to be so powerless to help her. "Will you do something for me?"

  "Anything." Savard sat forward, her eyes intent. "Anything."

  "Will you try to get some sleep?"

  Savard considered lying, but she could tell by the worry in Stark's eyes that it was too late for that. "I'll try. It's been.. .hard."

  "You have to take care of yourself. I need you."

  "Oh, that's blackmail."

  Stark nodded solemnly. "Maybe. But it's true."

  Savard indicated the far corner of the room. "There are a couple of beds in here, I guess for the staff when they're monitoring someone around the clock. I'm going to go lie down right now, okay?"

  "Promise?"

  "I promise."

  "I'll be here when you wake up." Stark smiled and tried to sound optimistic.

  "Promise?" Savard asked shakily.

  "Always."

  *

  "How long?" Cam asked as Captain Andrews buddy-taped her small finger to her ring finger, creating a functional splint. She sat on an examining table in a small anteroom adjacent to the monitoring area that looked into Blair's room while the doctor tended to her injured finger. She'd gotten the x-ray only because she knew Blair would ask her, and she couldn't bear to upset her now.

  "Fortunately, it's a hairline fracture with no displacement. Ten days of immobilization will probably do it, if you're careful—"

  "No, not me. Blair: How long until you're certain she's out of danger?"

  Captain Andrews straightened with a sigh and met Cam's probing gaze. "I'm working under Delta level restrictions here, Agent Roberts."

  "Understood."

  "Define your relationship with Ms. Powell."

  Cam's gaze narrowed as she studied the other woman. Not surprisingly, she could read little in her expression. Uncertain exactly where the doctor might be headed, Cam decided that a frontal assault was best. "I'm her lover."

  "And her acting security chief?"

  "That's right." Technically, Hara was next in line with Stark temporarily out of commission, but word had come from the White House via Lucinda that Cam was to "oversee" operations. Not quite a reinstatement, but the closest thing to it.

  "Well," Captain Andrews said, crossing her arms over her chest. "The second might not qualify you as being in a need-to-know position, but the first certainly does."

  Cam waited, a knot of apprehension tightening in the center of her chest. She gripped the table on either side of her body and squeezed, oblivious to the pain, preparing herself for the blow she feared was coming.

  "Be careful with that hand, Agent Roberts, or you'll displace the fracture enough that I'll have to put you in a cast."

  "Just tell me."

  "The growth of microbial cultures can't be hurried, I'm afraid. It will be a minimum of twelve hours, and more likely twenty-four, before we identify the organism with absolute certainty."

  Cam stopped breathing. "You know for certain there was an organism?"

  The doctor nodded. "Yes, the gram stains demonstrated that. Basically, that's a quick and dirty way to examine a specimen for living organisms. It doesn't tell us what the bacteria is, only the general class." She hesitated as if trying to judge Cam's reaction. "What we found is a gram-positive, spore-forming bacillus consistent with anthrax. Or smallpox."

  "Jesus," Cam whispered, leaning back against the examination table as her legs suddenly went weak. "Smallpox? I thought that had been eradicated decades ago."

  Captain Andrews dragged over a tall stool and edged a hip up onto it. "That's true, as far as it goes. Frozen specimens, however, were stockpiled in two places—the CDC in Atlanta and the Maximum Containment Laboratory in Siberia."

  "Christ, I bet that place was secure."

  "Unfortunately, no. After the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, a considerable portion of their stores disappeared. We suspect that they made their way to the Middle East and Asia."

  "And you can't tell if this is anthrax or smallpox?"

  Andrews lifted a shoulder and sighed. "We're running diagnostic immunoassays right now, which will hopefully give us a presumptive diagnosis while we await the definitive culture results,"

  "What are we talking about here, in terms of casualties?" Cam's voice was steady, but inside, every cell trembled.

  "Look, Agent Roberts-—"

  "It's Cam."

  The doctor nodded. "Ronnie. Look, Cam. We're starting treatment right now. In fact, they've all probably gotten their first dose of antibiotics. Fortunately, with treatment, the cure rate is excellent, assuming they're infected."

  "Numbers, Ronnie."

  "Once symptoms appear, even with treatment, the mortality rate is high. Seventy to ninety percent if it's anthrax. With smallpox?" She shook her head. "Closer to a hundred percent."

  Cam paled and pushed herself off the table. "I want to see her now"

  "Wait a minute, Cam. We don't know what they were exposed to yet."

  Cam turned back. "But you'll know in a few hours, right?"

  "We'll have the immunoassay results in just about four hours, yes, but they'll just be prelim-—"

  "Then I'll see her at 2100 hours," Cam said as she set her watch.

  *

  "Hi, Dad," Blair said, holding the cell phone in her right hand as she sat propped up in bed in her surgical scrubs with an intravenous line taped to her left arm. Stark sat in a similar position across from her on the opposite bed.

  "Hi, honey. I'm sorry that I haven't talked to you before this, Colonel Grau has been in constant contact, but he seemed to feel it was necessary to complete their preliminary evaluation before—"

  "Dad, Dad, Relax. I'm okay." Blair grimaced. As okay as I can be considering that I'm locked up tighter than Alcatraz and people are poking and prodding me nonstop.

  "I've been assured that you are, or I'd be there right now."

  "Don't do that," Blair said instantly. "I don't think there's anything wrong with me, but you certainly can't come here and risk catching something. Besides, you're—"

  "I'm your father, and if there's the slightest possibility that you're ill, I'll be there."

  Blair could hear protesting voices in the background, one of which she was certain belonged to Lucinda. She would not want to be her father's chief of staff at this moment. "Look, Dad, I know the situation. And so do you. Even if there weren't any risk, the last thing we need is the media around here. So send me a card, but no visits. Come to think of it, no flowers either."

  Her father laughed weakly. "You're sure you're okay?"

  "I want out of here. Then I'll be fine."

  "Where's Cam?"

  "She's here. I can't get her to leave."

  "Good."

  "Dad," Blair said gently, "they're taking good care of me. And Cam won't let anything happen to me."

  "I certainly got lucky when y
ou found her."

  Blair smiled. "Yeah, me too."

  After she said her goodbyes and hung up, she turned on her side and regarded Stark mournfully. "This sucks."

  "Yeah. It does."

  "You doing okay?"

  Stark shrugged. "I don't feel sick." She regarded Blair anxiously. "But Renee looks terrible. Something's really wrong."

  "I imagine it's been pretty horrible for her, Paula," Blair said quietly. "But I'm sure that you being in her life is helping her get through it."

  Stark closed her hands into tight fists and closed her eyes. "I'm not doing anything for anyone. You ended up in here, and Renee's out there, alone, worrying about me. And I'm no good to anybody."

  Blair pushed back the sheets and swung her legs over the side of the bed until she was sitting upright, leaning forward toward Stark. "What the hell is the matter with you? You don't usually sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

  "I'm scared." Stark turned eyes dark with misery to Blair. "I'm scared for her, and I don't know what to do."

  "Oh, honey, just love her."

  "You really think that's enough?"

  Blair smiled. "I know it is."

  Both women turned at die sound of the door opening, and then Blair shot to her feet. "You can't be in here. Turn around right now and get your ass out of here."

  "Hi, baby," Cam said as she hooked an arm around the back of a chair and swung it off the floor. She dropped it next to the bed and sat down a foot from Blair. In a very reasonable voice, she said, "You'll notice, Ms. Powell, that I'm wearing a mask and a cover gown."

  "I don't care if you're wearing Kevlar. I don't want you in here." Blair pushed as far away from Cam as she could get. In a voice thin with fear, she said, "Please. Please leave."

  "Blair," Cam said gently, making no move to touch her, although she ached to pull her into her arms. It had been only hours that they'd been apart, but the fear had unbalanced her. If she could only hold her—-just feeling the heat of her body and the play of those supple muscles beneath smooth skin would set her world right again. She forced a lightness into her voice. "It's okay that I'm here. The doctors cleared it."