Неизвестный - 06. Honor Under Siege
“If she doesn’t contact either Diane or myself, our chances of finding her are remote. Given enough time, we might, but time is something we don’t have much of.” Cam ran her fingers through Blair’s hair. “I’m working on something that might draw her in.”
“Is it classified?”
“No, but it does involve Lucinda.”
“Uh-oh. Do I even want to know?”
“You’ll find out later.” Cam kissed Blair’s forehead. After a second she said, “No questions?”
“I’ll wait for you to tell me about the briefing. Perhaps I’ll go down to the marina in a while to see Tanner.”
“Take three people…” Cam grimaced. “I’m sure Stark will take care of that.”
Blair smiled. “I never mind you looking out for me. Stark doesn’t have to know.”
“Thanks, baby.” Cam kissed her again, then turned and strode briskly away.
Blair waited until Cam disappeared inside, then continued down the winding path to the beach. As she turned north, tucking her hands in the pockets of her windbreaker and walking quickly to keep warm in the brisk wind, she was peripherally aware of the two figures shadowing her. They had been there, of course, the entire time that she and Cam had stood on the path sharing something so intimate she still felt like crying. Those who had watched would of course never acknowledge in any way what they had witnessed, and during those moments, she hadn’t been aware of anyone except Cam. She stopped and pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed.
A moment later, Cam answered. “Are you all right?”
“I’m sorry, I know you’re briefing. I just want you to know that I’d love to go to Colorado to get married.”
“All right,” Cam said probingly. “And?”
“And this morning in bed was wonderful, but the only thing I really need is for you to look at me like you just did for the rest of my life.”
“You can count on that.”
“I love you,” Blair said quietly. “I’ll see you later.”
Blair closed the phone, slid it into her pocket, and turned her face up to the rain. It was cold and sharp against her skin and she felt unbelievably alive.
When Blair let herself into the kitchen forty-five minutes later, Diane was waiting for her. She was without makeup, in loose cotton slacks and a pale blue cotton blouse, and she didn’t look like she’d slept at all the night before. Her freshly washed hair was loose and unstyled. She looked vulnerable and young, and Blair’s heart ached. Diane had finally fallen in love and instead of being able to immerse herself in the joy of it, she might lose Valerie and never know why.
“Morning, sweetheart.” Blair skimmed her fingers over Diane’s back as she passed behind her. She stopped abruptly when she felt Diane stiffen. “What is it?”
“This.” Diane’s normally sultry voice was scratchy from fatigue. She pointed to the newspaper spread out in front of her. “I don’t understand this.”
Blair peered over her shoulder and frowned at an article on the second page. Noted Gallery Owner Assaulted After Gala. She scanned the completely fictitious account of an assault, presumed to be a robbery, that occurred just outside the Boston Ritz Carlton the previous evening following a fundraiser for a noted research institute. The only thing in the article that resembled reality in the slightest was the fact that the victim, Diane Bleeker, was actually the owner of a trendy Manhattan gallery.
“Is this how things are done in your world?” Diane lifted her pain-filled and accusing eyes. “Are these kinds of lies necessary? I have friends, colleagues, family who will be concerned and what if…you know that Valerie will probably see this. Someone should have told me.”
“I don’t have any idea how…” Blair remembered a snippet of her conversation with Cam less than an hour ago. Cam had said she might have an idea about reaching Valerie. She had also said that Lucinda was involved, and this press manipulation had Lucinda’s fingerprints all over it. Blair straightened, her mouth tightening. “I’m not sure what this is about, but I’m going to find out.”
Grabbing the newspaper, she marched toward the dining room, now the security operations center, where she had last seen Paula and Mac. Mac was at the computer, studying what looked to be a floor plan. He swiveled on his chair to face her, his brows knitting.
“Where’s Paula?”
“She went back upstairs to bed.” Mac’s expression was polite but guarded. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“How about this? Do you know anything about this?” She extended the newspaper. From Mac’s quick glance, she knew that he was aware of the article.
“Ah, that might be something you want to ask the commander,” he replied, obviously framing his reply carefully.
“She’s in a briefing. Why don’t you explain it to me?”
Mac regarded her with mute appeal. “I’m afraid I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“All right. Of course not.” Blair turned and walked away. When she heard Mac rise she looked back over her shoulder. “Stay here, Mac. I’m not going any further than Cam’s office. God, it’s not like there’s anywhere to go.”
He grinned cautiously. “I’ve never known that to stop you. Respectfully, Ms. Powell.”
She narrowed her eyes, then laughed. “Maybe it’s time to rotate out my security team if you know me that well.”
“It does take a long time to train the new ones,” he said with a straight face.
“I suppose you have a point.” Blair felt some of her anger ease. “I’ll see you later Mac.”
“Ma’am.”
By the time she reached the guesthouse, her fury had abated enough that when Cam walked into the living room in response to her arrival, she managed to ask calmly, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Cam’s gaze dropped to the newspaper she held tightly clenched in hand. “Ah.” She slid her hands into the pockets of her black chinos. “I see that Lucinda is even more efficient than I anticipated. The article is in there?”
“Your doing?”
“Mostly. Lucinda made the necessary phone calls to the papers.” Cam shook her head. “Even with the White House behind it, I didn’t expect to see anything until this evening.”
“Lucinda doesn’t waste time or words.”
“Apparently.”
“Damn it, Cam. Diane doesn’t understand this kind of thing. You should have told her, or let me tell her.”
Cam gestured to the sofa. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”
“I don’t want to sit, I want an explanation. I told Luce I wouldn’t use my friendship with Diane like this. I didn’t think I needed to tell you!”
“Just give me a minute and I’ll explain.” Cam sat down.
“Fine.” Blair followed, but sat far enough away that they weren’t touching. “You’re using this to lure Valerie, aren’t you?”
“Not entirely. It’s a good cover story to explain all the official activity around the hotel last night. It keeps your name and Emory’s out of the paper. And, yes,” Cam said with a sigh, “it might draw Valerie out into the open. You can be sure she’s scanning news sources for any available Intel.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
“Other than the obvious reason being that I was preoccupied?”
Blair smiled faintly. “Other than that.”
Cam rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t think we’d see any activity around this until later in the day. Diane was still asleep, and…” she met Blair’s intent gaze. “I didn’t want her trying to contact Valerie and telling her it was fabricated.”
“Jesus, Cam. She’s my best friend and she’s hurting so much over this. How do you think she’s going to feel if Valerie is…I don’t know, trapped, because of her?”
“Blair,” Cam said gently, “Valerie is in real trouble out there. The best thing for her is for us to be able to protect her. If she surfaces because she’s worried that something might happen to Diane, or that something has happened to her, she’ll be better off.”
“Can I tell Diane?”
“It’s going to put you in the middle. I hate to do that.”
“I’m already in it. There’s no middle ground left, Cam.”
Cam moved along the sofa so she was closer to Blair, but did not touch her. “Can you tell her part of it, and leave out anything about Valerie for now?”
“She’s not naïve, Cam—she might ask me about Valerie. What shall I tell her to do if Valerie calls?”
“Tell her to talk to her as long as she can.”
“You’re tapping Diane’s phone?” Blair asked incredulously.
“We’re tracing it back through her cellular provider. It’s not perfect, but it gives us a starting place.” Cam placed her hand flat on the sofa between them. “I’m sorry, Blair. It has to be done.”
Blair was silent for a moment, then took Cam’s hand and cradled it in her lap between both of hers. “This must be hard for you.”
“I…not as hard as it is for you. I wish I could change that.”
Blair shook her head. “No. One of the things I love about you is how clear you are about the right and wrong of things. About what should be done, no matter the cost. But there’s nothing clear about any of this, is there?”
“Nothing has been clear to me since the moment I saw one of my own agents standing outside your door pointing a gun at your heart,” Cam said bitterly. “I don’t even know how to begin to think about that.”
It was so very rare for Cam to voice her pain and disillusionment that Blair had to struggle not to pull her into her arms. Instead, she leaned close and kissed Cam’s cheek. “I’ll talk to Diane. It will be okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. You shouldn’t be. Not for doing what must be done.” Blair rose. “You will be careful with Valerie, won’t you?”
Cam stood. “She’s a victim in this too. I’m sure of it.”
“I trust your judgment. I do.” Blair skimmed her fingers along Cam’s jaw. “But you’re the one thing in my life I can’t do without.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Blair smiled gently. “See that you do.”
Chapter Twenty
Cam tilted her chair back and scrubbed her face. A glance at her watch confirmed what she already knew. It was late, almost 9 p.m. Felicia and Savard looked just as exhausted as she felt, but neither had complained despite twelve hours of nonstop work at the computers. The rest of the guest house was dark, the only light coming from the computer monitors and a few muted lamps. She appreciated why so many government buildings had so few windows—the less intrusion from the outside world, the easier it was to become lost in the work to the exclusion of everything else. Even the important people in your life.
“Where are we?”
Savard deferred to Felicia, who had the most expertise in terms of computer investigation. Felicia shrugged.
“Between the files at Quantico I’ve been able to access and our own scans of Matheson’s academy records, we have solid IDs on all four of the gunmen at the Aerie. We have names for the faces now and we’re digging deeper.”
“What does that give us in terms of Matheson’s connection to the Company and Valerie’s handler?”
Felicia shook her head. “Nothing yet. These men were all too young to be contemporaries of anyone who might have recruited Valerie.”
Savard said, “If Valerie was recruited as a teenager, then we’re probably looking at someone Matheson’s age as her handler.” She spread her hands in frustration. “He could be anyone.”
“We have to work from the assumption that Valerie’s handler and Matheson are tied together. It may turn out that they’re not, but that’s a more probable scenario than postulating that Valerie’s contact within the Company reported the plans for the raid on Matheson’s compound to someone else who then relayed the message to Matheson.” Cam stood up and walked to the window, rolling her shoulders and trying to work out some of the stiffness from the previous week’s injuries and the tension of poring through files all day. The first floor of the main house was alight, and she wondered what Blair was doing. “I don’t believe in coincidences. The only person outside of our team who knew about the raid was Valerie. She reported to her handler and Matheson was tipped off. A plus B equals C.”
“Matheson has had a lifetime to build up a network inside the system,” Felicia said. “We’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”
“Maybe. But men like Matheson know that the most secure network is one that’s small and built on personal loyalty.” She turned away from the window and the reminder of the rest of her life to face her agents. “What creates the greatest loyalty?”
“Chain of command,” Savard said immediately.
“Family,” Felicia replied.
“Start with Foster and the other four men from the assault on Blair, and find their brothers, cousins, uncles, fathers, grandfathers— every male relative who might have been associated with Matheson or Matheson’s brothers, uncles, father, whatever.”
Savard frowned. “What about the women?”
Cam shook her head. “Not likely. Matheson runs a military academy for boys. All of the assailants were men. All of the paramilitary personnel at his compound were men. He doesn’t entrust women with authority.”
Felicia’s eyes flashed. “One of his many mistakes.”
“Agreed,” Cam said with quiet satisfaction. “He’s going to regret underestimating us.”
“I was wondering when you were going to surface,” Blair said when Cam walked into the kitchen a little after 10 p.m. She pulled the red sweatband from her forehead and let her hair fall free on her shoulders. She’d just come from a run on the beach and still wore sweatpants and a cutoff T-shirt. “There’s chicken in the oven.”
“Thanks, but I’m good. Tanner had sandwiches sent in for us.” Cam opened the refrigerator and extracted a beer. “Want one?”
“I’ve got wine.” Blair waited until Cam sat down at the table and took several swallows of beer before moving behind her to massage her shoulders. “Long day.”
Cam leaned her head back against Blair’s body, briefly closed her eyes, and sighed. “Yeah. How was yours?”
“About the same. I painted a little this afternoon.”
“Anything I can see yet?”
Blair smiled. “Soon. Maybe tomorrow.”
“I won’t forget. What else is new?”
“Tanner’s people took Emory back to the city. Steph is going to stay with her for a day or so just to be sure she’s okay.”
“Good. How’s Diane?”
Blair’s hand stilled. “Upset.”
“I’ll talk to her as soon as I check in with Mac and Stark. Hopefully they had better luck sorting out what happened at the hotel last night than we had today.”
“No progress?”
Cam sighed. “Some. I have no doubt that given enough time we could track the various threads back to the hub, but I don’t think we have that much time. Not when Matheson can put together assault squads like he did at the Aerie, people who don’t care if they die.”
Blair went back to working on the muscles in Cam’s neck. “You think it was a suicide mission?”
