by Radclyffe
“It’s not the same question. Before it was open ended—Do you know who she is?” Dana crossed her legs, balancing her ankle on her opposite knee. “Is she homeland security? is a factual question. Background. Reference. It doesn’t call for disclosure of personal information.”
“Is that line of thinking supposed to make me more comfortable around you?” Emory shook her head. “Because it doesn’t. It just sounds sneaky.”
Dana listened for censure in Emory’s tone and relaxed a little when she didn’t hear it. Emory seemed to be searching for the ground rules, something that Dana ordinarily tried to keep as vague as possible. With Emory, she didn’t want to make a mistake. She had a feeling there would be no second chances, and considering that she hadn’t even had a first chance yet, she chose her words carefully. “Usually I have to get information from people who most often don’t want to give it. The leader of a terrorist cell living in a cave in the mountains in Afghanistan wants his message to be heard, but he doesn’t want me to know the truth. He wants me to broadcast his jihad, but he doesn’t want me to know how many men he has, or who funds him, or what he intends to blow up next.” For a second, she was back in a jeep in a barren wasteland in a world so brutal that morality was sacrificed on the altar of survival. She shivered, then smiled wryly. “I’m sorry. None of that has anything to do with you.”
“You’re wrong there.” Emory shifted so her knees were touching Dana’s leg. “If we’re going to be friends, I need to understand what’s important to you. And what isn’t.”
“Are we going to be friends?”
“I don’t know.” Emory shrugged, her expression almost sad. “My aversion to reporters isn’t entirely due to…personal…experiences. I’m not exactly as popular a target as someone like Blair, but my work is controversial enough that I tend to draw a crowd.”
“You’re hassled by the press a fair amount.”
“Yes. Relentlessly, sometimes. And unfortunately, not all the reporters take an open mind to what I’m doing.”
“Tissue regeneration, right?” Dana had reviewed some but certainly not all of the voluminous articles on Emory Constantine and her controversial work on stem cell research. It was a hot-button topic with every right-to-life group, extremist religious group, and anti– genetic engineering organization.
“Considering that it’s public knowledge, yes, that’s the general term for what I do.”
Dana leaned closer. Unfortunately, as soon as she did she caught Emory’s unique scent, which totally derailed her train of thought. Now was the time to take advantage of the high emotions everyone was experiencing. Barriers were down, control shaky. People said things, did things, admitted things they wouldn’t ordinarily if they weren’t so distracted and upset. Like blood in the water, a crisis signaled the time for a reporter to strike, and strike hard. Instead, she felt herself holding back. “I’d like to talk to you about your work sometime. What you think people should know about it. What you want others to understand.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Just consider it,” Dana said. “You know the only way you’ll get public support is by making them understand how research like yours will benefit them.”
“You make it sound as if people are only interested in their own welfare.”
“Usually,” Dana said flatly, “that’s the case.”
“You’re a cynic.”
“I prefer to call it realism.” As much as she hated to do it, especially considering what she and Emory had been discussing, Dana couldn’t ignore her instincts completely. Blair Powell was alone for the first time all afternoon, and Dana had a job to do. She stood up. “Excuse me.”
Emory followed her gaze. “Doesn’t it bother you, taking advantage of other people’s pain?”
“I’m sorry that’s the way you see it,” Dana said before she walked away. All the way across the room, she could feel Emory’s eyes on her, and it hurt to know she had disappointed her. Still, she kept going until she reached Blair, who sat with her back to the room at the counter dividing the living area from the kitchen. “Excuse me, Ms. Powell, may I sit down?”
“Go ahead,” Blair said, staring at an untouched cup of coffee on the counter in front of her.
“Can I warm that up for you?”
“No thanks,” Blair said, finally angling her head to look at Dana.
Blair’s eyes were darker than Dana remembered, and she thought that was probably from the pain she felt coming off her in waves. Dana was no stranger to other people’s tragedies, and she was used to interviewing people in the midst of the agony of loss. Tonight, though, it affected her more than usual, because she already felt an affinity for the first daughter. Despite her sympathy, she still needed to know. “What’s it like? Being here, waiting, not being able to do anything?”
“You know,” Blair said contemplatively, “I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before.” She glanced across the room at Diane and Valerie with a fond, sad smile. “Diane wants to protect me. The others do too, even when they hurt so badly themselves they’re almost dying.” She looked into Dana’s eyes. “Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”
“I imagine when you’re not grateful for them caring, you hate it.”
Blair laughed bitterly. “That’s about right. And it doesn’t make me very happy to admit it. Especially to you.”
“I’m not writing this down.” Dana displayed her empty hands. “No tape recorder. But, for the record, tell me why you support your lover doing what she does.”
“That’s easy,” Blair said quietly. “The job she does is essential, and as my father says, only the best should do it.”
Dana’s heart surged, because the simple truth was always the most powerful. “Have you ever asked her to stop?”
“Yes.” Blair’s expression became distant, and Dana had a feeling she was recalling a conversation. Her smile flickered, and then settled into one of tender resignation. “I tried to make her choose between me and her duty, but she wouldn’t.”
“And you gave up trying to change her mind?”
“I love her. I think I mentioned that.”
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t change anything about her.”
“But…”
“But I’ll never stop asking her to be careful. I’ll never stop telling her I want her to be safe. And I won’t give her up, no matter what it might cost.”
“May I quote you?” Dana asked gently.
“Ask me again when she’s home safe.”
“Commander!”
“I hear it.” Cam strained to home in on the distant but unmistakable rumble that seemed to be getting closer. With each passing second, the repetitive thump thump thump became louder. Rotors. “I think that’s our ride.”
“I sure as hell hope so, and not Tomlinson deciding to come back and check that van.”
“I doubt it. If he was part of that scene up on the highway, he’s long gone.”
A shaft of light pierced the greasy smoke overhead and swept back and forth over the ground around them. Cam shielded her eyes and tried to make out the markings on the side of the helicopter. Nothing. It least it wasn’t a TV news chopper or a local medical helicopter responding to some driver’s 911. As she suspected, cars passing along the road above probably had no idea there had even been an accident. That was just as well, because she wanted to avoid publicity. Now all she could hope was that the helicopter had been sent by Lucinda Washburn and not by whoever had decided to eliminate a potentially dangerous witness who knew way too much.
“I think they’re landing up on the road,” Savard yelled above the noise.
“Keep your weapon trained up the hill until I tell you otherwise,” Cam said, getting stiffly to her knees. Finally she pushed herself upright and started up the slope.
Within seconds, she was gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Around ten p.m., Dana finally saw her chance to talk to the enigmatic, decidedly a
loof agent named Valerie. Blair, Diane, and Emory had closed ranks and were giving off we don’t want company vibes in the sitting area. Stark remained at the door, although she had moved to a chair someone had dragged over for her. Wozinski had delivered food and drinks an hour or so before, and an untouched half sandwich sat on a paper plate on the floor next to Stark. Valerie stood looking out the window through a narrow opening in the blinds. She didn’t acknowledge Dana’s presence when Dana stepped up beside her.
“We haven’t been introduced, but I imagine you know who I am,” Dana said.
“Yes,” Valerie said.
“Do you have an update on the incident that has detained the deputy director?”
“No comment.”
“How long do you think it will be before this country reorganizes its security structure enough to effectively combat terrorism?”
“No comment.”
“Creating the Office of Homeland Security looks a lot like a political maneuver to assuage public fears while justifying the surveillance of U.S. citizens on domestic territory.”
Valerie continued to watch the street as if Dana weren’t even there.
“How long have you been intimately involved with Blair Powell’s best friend?” Dana tried another tack.
Valerie turned her icy gaze on Dana. “I can have you removed from this room and permanently denied access to Blair Powell in less than a second. How much do you want to complete your assignment?”
“All right,” Dana said slowly, holding Valerie’s gaze. “I’ve been saying this a lot tonight, but off the record, how long do you think it will be before we hear anything?”
“I don’t know.” Valerie turned her attention back to the street. “The White House has a press department that handles the kinds of questions you’re asking.”
Dana laughed. “And I believe in the tooth fairy too.”
A smile flickered at the corner of Valerie’s mouth. “I’ve only allowed you to stay this long because this morning the deputy director cleared you to have unrestricted access. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be here.”
“So you’re in charge when she’s unavailable?”
“No comment.”
“Can you give me your official title?”
Silence.
“How about a last name.”
Silence.
“All right, no questions. I’ll talk.” Dana rubbed the back of her neck, calculating how many shots she might have in getting anything out of the Sphinx. “This is how I see things. There’s two teams working out of a base somewhere in this building—one is the first daughter’s Secret Service detail and the other is some kind of special OHS detachment. The deputy director heads the team of OHS people here— you’re one of them, probably second in command. There’s some kind of crossover between the two teams, because Stark is following your lead now, which is really unusual for someone in her position.” Dana thought about that for a minute. The Secret Service was notorious for not sharing responsibility for their protectees. They usually liaised with the White House press staff during advance planning for public events, but the Secret Service made all the calls on security. And yet Stark readily deferred to Valerie. Why? “Stark knows you. She trusts you. If she didn’t, she’d be fighting you every step of the way. How am I doing so far?”
“No comment.”
“I’m going to print what I see if I don’t have anything else.”
Valerie ignored her, still looking unfazed.
Dana worked her hands into her pockets and rocked back and forth, figuring the angles. “There’s only one reason for the OHS and Blair’s security team to be so entwined. I’m betting some of the OHS detachment here used to be Secret Service.” Her heart rate shot up as the pieces fell together in her mind. When that happened, it was always a rush, nearly as invigorating as the adrenaline high of danger or the orgasmic satisfaction of great sex. “Jesus Christ. Blair Powell is the focus of both teams because someone thinks the terrorists are after her.”
Valerie sighed as if in disappointment. “Writers have such active imaginations.”
“Or maybe they’ve already tried. When? When was the attempt on her?” Dana couldn’t believe the White House had kept this quiet. And now she understood why Cameron Roberts supported her being this close to Blair. Roberts was trying to limit Blair’s visibility because she was a goddamned target. Oh yeah, there was a story here all right. A hot story. Dana started away, knowing she wasn’t going to get anything out of this agent, if that’s what she was.
Valerie stopped her with a viselike grip on her arm. “If I were to think you were going to write about any of your theories, I might have to sequester you and restrict all your communications.”
Dana wasn’t all that surprised by the threat, but she hadn’t expected the complete absence of anger. Valerie No Last Name appeared to be completely unprovokeable. Even Cameron Roberts had shown some fire when Dana had pushed about Blair. This woman Valerie fascinated her. And she knew one thing for certain now. There was nowhere she wanted to be for the foreseeable future, except with Blair Powell. “I suppose it’s been a long time since you’ve read the Bill of Rights. You know, the part about freedom of the press?”
“I’m not playing games,” Valerie said easily. “Your press pass doesn’t protect you when matters of national security are at stake.”
“And who decides that?”
“I do.”
“Who’s going to decide exactly what will be on the record, other than the menu for the wedding?”
“I believe that will be up to the deputy director.” For an instant, Valerie’s cool facade shifted and Dana caught a glimpse of something dark and dangerous in her eyes before Valerie added, “When she returns.”
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Emory tugged Dana’s sleeve and pulled her away from Valerie, who immediately turned back to the window.
“Sure.” Dana followed Emory to the breakfast bar, surprised that Emory had sought her out since she was pretty certain that her talking to Blair had confirmed for Emory just how self-serving and callous she was. She slid onto one of the stools. Someone had turned the lights down so that the area was dim, giving the false impression of privacy. “Something wrong?”
“I thought I should rescue you before you got yourself into trouble.”
“Worried about me?” Dana said lightly. Ordinarily, she would be irritated by anyone trying to interfere with her work, but the little frown lines between Emory’s dark brows indicated real concern. After witnessing the passionate interconnections between Blair Powell, her friends, and those who guarded her, Dana realized just how much she wanted someone to care about her. To wonder about where she was and to worry if she didn’t come home. Maybe that was a pipe dream, but the breathless pleasure she got from the troubled look in Emory’s eyes was not a dream. The feeling was real and sweet and she wanted more of it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a champion.”
Emory’s lips parted in pleasant surprise, and as she leaned closer she rested her hand on Dana’s thigh. “I can see what you’re doing, and you don’t know what you’re doing.”
Dana grinned. “For a scientist, you’re remarkably subtle. And at the moment, imprecise too.”
“Don’t joke. You don’t know what’s going on here, and if you push these people…” Emory shook her head. “Just do the job you came to do. Write about what a warm, wonderful woman Blair Powell is and how much she cares about her country and how much she loves her father. Write about what it costs her to be open and honest about her life with the whole world watching, and a good part of it criticizing. Write about the beautiful love between Blair Powell and Cameron Roberts.”
“I can’t just write about the things that are pretty,” Dana said. “Or easy. Or what people want to hear.”
“Blair’s life is not easy.” Emory snorted. “Believe me, there are a lot of people who don’t want to hear about Blair and Cam.”
“I know that. And I will wri
te about her marriage. But what about what else is going on? What about the danger? Who’s after her, Emory?”
“Don’t. Please don’t go there.”
Emory’s voice was low and almost tortured and Dana had this sudden need to erase her pain. She covered Emory’s hand where it lay on her leg. “You know, don’t you? You know what’s really going on here.” Dana began mentally sorting what she knew about Emory and the things she had read about the first daughter. Blair and Diane Bleeker had been friends since they were teenagers. There had never been any mention of an acquaintance with Emory until some brief news clip about the two of them at a fund-raiser early the previous month. But from what Dana could see now, something had bonded Emory, Blair, and Diane in a powerful way. What’s more, Emory knew a lot of the inside players in the room. Valerie had recognized Emory the instant she’d stepped off the elevator. “Something happened last month, and you were there, weren’t you? When was it? In Boston? Was there an attempt on Blair’s life?” Dana had another thought and her stomach clenched. “On yours?”
“I’ve always been a private person,” Emory said as if she were talking to herself. “But I’ve never had so many secrets in my life.” She pulled her hand from beneath Dana’s and got up. “I wish you weren’t so good at what you do.”
“Emory,” Dana said urgently as Emory turned away, but Emory did not look back. Her abrupt departure left Dana feeling hollow and unspeakably lonely. For the first time ever in her life, she wished the story didn’t always come first.
“Hey,” Blair said, squatting down next to Paula’s chair. “You ought to try eating some of that sandwich. You’ve been on duty all day and it might be a long night.”
“That’s okay. I’m not hungry.”
Paula had never learned Cam’s infuriating ability to hide her pain, but Blair didn’t think Paula was any less good at her job because of it. Paula would do whatever she needed to do, even while she bled to death inside. She was bleeding now, and Blair ached for her. She understood firsthand just how hard it was to silence all the little voices that kept screaming she was going to lose what mattered most to her. But fight to silence the nightmare demons she did, and she would keep on fighting no matter what. “As soon as this is over, I want to get out of here. Tomorrow, let’s go to Colorado.”