Honor 02 - Honor Bound

by Radclyffe

  The pain receded behind her next reaction - anger. She was furious at him for shooting her, and even more furious at herself for letting him take her by surprise. She rolled to her side and got her feet under her. In the next second she was moving again. Her left arm hung uselessly, but her gun hand still worked. She could see his back as he agilely vaulted a turnstile that had once been part of an admission booth. In another instant, he'd be gone. Her vision was starting to blur and she was running out of time. Her arm was soaked with blood; she could feel it streaming off her fingers onto the ground. She drew down and fired.

  The second blast was even larger than the first. And this time, the shockwave catapulted her into oblivion.

  Chapter thirty-nine

  Mac tried furiously to re-establish contact, but no one was answering him. "Commander? Stark?"

  Blair continued to type queries to Loverboy, but there were no further responses.

  "What's happening?" she asked urgently. The three agents looked grim, and the eerie quiet that hung in the air made Blair's blood run cold. She struggled for composure and lost. "What the hell is going on?"

  "All our communication lines are down," Mac said grimly. "Loverboy was probably transmitting from a wireless connection at the rendezvous site. He's there, and he knows that you're not."

  Blair got to her feet, her entire body trembling. "Someone better find out right now what's happening out there, or I'm going myself."

  "Ms. Powell," Lindsey Ryan said quietly, putting her hand on Blair's arm very gently, almost as if she were afraid of startling her, "we'll get word here faster than anywhere else. Give Mac a minute."

  Mac switched to the speakers and attempted to boost the signals. "Stark, come in please. Do you copy? Stark, goddamn it! Do you hear me?"

  A garbled, fitful transmission crackled through. At first, all Blair could make out were fragments of words but what she could hear was enough to take her legs out from under her. She reached blindly for a chair and sat heavily.

  " explosion shots fired agents down"

  "Who?" Blair asked faintly, her eyes moving from one agents' face to the other, trying desperately to read their expressions. "Mac, ask her who."

  "Can you clarify?" Mac asked woodenly, forcing down the quick surge of panic Stark's message produced. He clenched his fists and concentrated, straining for her words.

  More static, then..."Evacuating injuredwill advise."

  Then there was only silence, a silence so final that the three of them - impotent witnesses to a nightmare - stood numbly, not looking at one another. Blair closed her eyes and wondered how it was that she could still feel her heart beating, because something inside of her was dying.

  The icy stillness was shattered by the ringing of the landline. They all stared at it for a second, and then Mac snatched it up, listening intently. Blair watched him anxiously, hoping for some sign that her fears were unfounded, but the grim set of his jaw never changed. He replaced the receiver and stood up.

  "That was Fielding. Ambulances are en route with the injured to the trauma unit at Beth Israel."

  "Who?" Blair asked quietly, prepared, she thought, to hear him say the words. She must be ready, because she was so cold inside. Frozen. "Please -- who?"

  "No ID yet," he answered, looking around for his blazer, "but Stark went with one of the ambulances, so I assume some of them are our people." He pulled his jacket on as he turned toward the door. "I'll call you as soon as I have any information, Ms. Powell."

  Blair moved quickly, blocking his way, an incredulous look on her face. "You can't be serious. I'm going with you."

  Mac stopped short and, although it took effort, said as calmly as he could manage, "I'm afraid you can't do that, Ms. Powell. I don't have a full complement of agents available now, and I don't even know the status of the rest of the team. I can't provide security. I can't"

  "Mac," Blair said tightly, wondering how it was that she hadn't begun screaming, "either you take me or I get a cab. But there's no way I'm not going."

  "He's right, Ms. Powell," Felicia Davis said quietly. "We're short-handed, and we don't even know if the UNSUB has been apprehended. It's not safe. The Commander will have Mac's - uh - head if he takes you out there. It's going to be chaos."

  Blair almost smiled, imagining Cam's expression, and thinking that Davis was probably right - she'd be seriously annoyed. And then she realized she might never see Cam again, might never touch her again, and the cold dark place where she locked away her fears began to bleed. When she spoke, she couldn't quite hide the pain. "I'll make sure Commander Roberts knows it was my doing."

  Perhaps it was the way her voice broke when she said Cam's name, but Lindsey Ryan spoke up, her voice not only calming, but comforting. "Agent Phillips, there are three of us here. We certainly should be adequate security for Ms. Powell's transport to the hospital. Once there, I assume there will be other members of your team available to assist."

  Blair shot her a grateful look.

  Mac relented, because he couldn't physically restrain the First Daughter, and it was plain to him that she was going one way or the other. "All right then, let's do it."

  *****

  At first all she could see through the car window as they approached the hospital were emergency vehicles parked haphazardly in the small lot in front of the entrance. Light bars atop ambulances and police cars sent intersecting beams of red and blue strobing wildly into the night sky, reflecting eerily off the double glass doors of the trauma bay. Hospital personnel and law enforcement officers of all description rushed everywhere. She searched the crowd of State Police, plain-clothes federal agents and SWAT team members in full riot gear, but the one unmistakable form she sought was absent.

  God damn it Cam, don't you dare do this. Don't you leave me now.

  Blair realized that she wasn't breathing. She also realized that there would be reporters there by now. And photographers. By the time Felicia Davis held the door open for her and she stepped from the car, she had composed herself.

  Mac took her right arm and began to draw her through the crowd. Lindsey Ryan was just behind her left shoulder and Felicia Davis cleared the way in front. When they reached the sliding glass doors that marked the trauma entrance, a large harried-looking hospital security guard blocked their way.

  "Sorry. You can't go back there."

  Mac extended his right hand with his badge, but the guard's attention had focused on Blair. His eyes widened slightly, and he said in a slightly awed tone, "Miss Powell! I - uh - I didn't recognize you - sorry - uh - just one minute. I'll get a detachment to escort you."

  "No," Mac said sharply. "That's not necessary." The last thing he wanted was a bunch of star struck guards trying to be helpful and making his job more difficult. "We just need to get back to the triage area. Can you direct us?

  The security officer looked like he was about to protest, but he must have seen something in Mac's face that made him change his mind. "Straight on through, past the automatic doors at the end of the hall," he responded crisply. "It's a mess back there, though."

  Once inside the main admitting region, the noise level dropped, but there were still scores of people clogging the hallway and emergency carts and equipment everywhere. Blair stared at the floor, and realized that the congealing trails of crimson were blood.

  "Oh god," she whispered faintly.

  Lindsey looked at her in concern. "Why don't we find someplace less public to wait while Mac finds the others?"

  "Let's go back to the treatment area and I'll see what I can find out," Mac agreed. He was feeling a little overwhelmed himself. He and Ellen Grant had worked together for several years, even before Egret's detail, and they were friends. He liked Renee Savard. And the Commander - how he felt about her was too complicated to explain. He just knew he didn't want to think about her going down again. When they stepped through the solid gray doors bearing the sign, "Trauma Admitting - Authorized Personnel Only", he was relieved to see a familiar fi
gure in the doorway of one of the treatment cubicles.

  "Stark!" he called.

  Stark stared at them, looking slightly dazed. There was blood on her shirt and hands, and a darkening smear along the angle of her jaw. Before she could respond, she was forced to step aside as a transport team came out of the room behind her, pushing a stretcher bearing a portable respirator, bags of intravenous fluid and blood, and a cardiac defibrillator. Barely recognizable in the midst of the equipment lay Renee Savard.

  Blair caught only a brief glance of Savard's pale, unresponsive face as the medical team rushed her down the hall toward the elevators. Stark started after the stretcher, but a nurse gently took her arm and murmured something to her. A moment later the elevator doors slid closed and Savard was gone. Stark's shoulders slumped and she leaned heavily against the wall. When Mac began to move toward her, Blair stopped him.

  "Just a minute, Mac. Let me talk to her."

  He nodded. "I'll go find someone who can tell me what's going on."

  Blair stepped forward and put both hands on Stark's shoulders. She looked intently into her face. "Paula," she said gently, "are you hurt? You're covered in blood."

  "It's hers," Stark said, her voice choked and low. Her gaze met Blair's, a world of agony swimming below the surface of her dark eyes. "There was so much of it. I tried - the best I could. It wouldn't seem to stop."

  "Where is Cam, Paula?" Blair asked, trying hard to keep calm. Let her be here. Just let her be all right. "Agent Stark?"

  Stark was clearly in shock, but if someone didn't tell her something soon, Blair was afraid that she might start running up and down the halls screaming out Cam's name. She was about to come apart and she was scared to death that she would never get the pieces together again. "Stark," she whispered desperately, "please."

  "I think-I think," Paula Stark began, then lost her thread. She was having trouble thinking about anything except how pale Renee had looked and how much blood there had been on the ground and on her clothes and how cold she felt when Stark had put her arms around her and held her until the evac team arrived. She hesitated and swallowed and tried to get control of her racing heart and her shaking legs. Finally, she cleared her throat and forced herself to straighten up. "I didn't see Grant or the Commander, but to the best of my knowledge they were transported here, too. Grant went to the OR right away, I think. I'm not sure about the Commander."

  Blair closed her eyes. She must be alive. They wouldn't bring her here if she weren't. Would they?

  "Thank you," Blair said quietly after a moment. She looked over her shoulder and motioned to the two agents behind her. "Agent Davis, would you please take Agent Stark somewhere where she can lie down for a few minutes?"

  "I'll do that," Lindsey Ryan said quickly. She thought it best that a Secret Service Agent stay with the President's daughter until they had some idea of what had happened. As Lindsey put her arm around the unresisting dark-haired agent, Mac returned.

  "All I can find out is that Savard is listed as critical with a gunshot wound to the shoulder. Hit just where her vest stopped. Goddamned lucky shot," he added bitterly. "Grant has a skull fracture and a collapsed lung. The commander is -" He stopped and Blair's heart stopped, too.

  Don't say it, Mac. Don't say it. Don't sa-

  Then from behind them came one word. "Blair."

  Blair spun around, her heart leaping. Cam stood just a few feet away. She didn't think about anything - not the federal agents, not the reporters, not the public - she just reached for her.

  Cam opened her arms and pulled Blair close, holding her tightly. Blair was trembling. She lowered her head, brushing her lips against her ear, and said quietly, "I'm all right. Do you hear me? I'm all right."

  Blair nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She pressed her lips to Cam's shoulder, wanting her mouth, but knowing she couldn't. Not right there, not with everyone right there. She hadn't lost that much of her mind, and the solid reassurance of Cam's body instantly calmed her. Blair stepped away, although letting Cam go was the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. Her entire body ached for the feel of her lover in her arms. Blair's hands shook she wanted to touch her so badly, just to be sure that she was still there. Just to be sure that she hadn't lost her.

  "Are you hurt?" Blair's eyes darted over her, trying to reassure herself that Cam was in one piece. Blair's gaze narrowed as she studied her. Cam's face was white and her usually sharp, clear eyes were dull. She had shed her jacket and protective vest and her shirt was soaked with sweat and grime and patches of something that looked a lot like blood. A hot flash of anger flared in Blair's depths. Not with the woman, not even with the job, but with the relentless maniac that had tried to take Cam from her. She wanted to kill him herself. "Cam? Are you hurt? "

  Cam was careful not to shake her head, because she was dizzy and the ringing in her ears affected her balance and she was afraid too much motion would make her vomit. "Not much. Scrapes and bruises. A bump on the head. I won't be hearing the high notes for a while."

  Blair was instantly suspicious. "Just what exactly happened to you?"

  Cam got that evasive look she thought Blair didn't recognize, and before she could answer, Blair added, "And if you don't tell me the whole thing right now, I'll find the doctors and ask myself."

  "A minor concussion," Cam admitted with a sigh. She ran her fingers lightly down Blair's arm. "Nothing time won't take care of."

  "And they released you?" Blair persisted.

  "Well, not exactly," Cam confessed. She didn't blame Blair for being angry with her. She was only grateful that Blair hadn't been there to witness the doctors trying to convince her to be admitted overnight for observation. Now that would have been messy. "I'm kind of on my own recognizance at the moment."

  "Damn it, Cam," Blair seethed, keeping her voice low, aware that there were others nearby. "Don't do this to me."

  "I have things I need to take care of," Cam continued urgently, taking her hand. "I have two people upstairs in the operating room, Blair. I have families to contact, supervisors to inform. I have my agents to see to. I have to be here."

  As much as she didn't want to, Blair let go of Cam's hand. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Will you promise me that if you start to feel ill you'll let the doctors look at you? Promise me that."

  "I will," Cam said, her expression grateful. "I swear, Blair."

  Blair nodded, relenting because that was the best she could get at the moment. And she knew that Cam would not lie to her. "And the minute that you hear about them you'll get some rest?"

  "Agreed," Cam said with a faint smile. "Will you let Mac take you home?"

  "I'd like to stay until there's some word."

  Cam heard the true caring in her voice. She looked around, relieved to see her team nearby. "Of course. I'll have Fielding find a room where you can wait. I'll tell you the second I hear."

  "Thank you," Blair said softly. "Take good care of yourself, Commander."

  "I will," Cam murmured, losing herself for just an instant in her eyes. "I'm glad that you're here, you know."

  "That's a good thing," Blair whispered, "because nothing could have kept me away."

  Chapter forty

  Nine hours later, Cam walked into the command center and regarded the remains of her team. Most of them had never gone home but instead had voluntarily taken turns rotating between there and the hospital. As she expected, Stark was among them. The young agent appeared pale and shaky and she had that haunted look in her eyes that Cam knew would linger a long time.

  "The conference room," she said as she walked through.

  A few minutes later, she stood at the head of the table, as she had so many times before, and looked at each of them in turn. Finally, she said quietly, "We got him. Nice job, everybody."

  Then she opened the cover of a thick file folder and tossed it into the center of the table, a color photograph of a male in uniform clipped to the first page. "State Trooper James Raymond H
arker. Ten years ago he was detached to Governor Powell's security detail."

  For a moment there was stunned silence, then Stark muttered vehemently, "Bastard."

  "I can't believe it," Mac said, obviously distressed. He glanced at the picture then passed the file to the person next to him. "Why weren't we onto this? Background checks should have turned up something."

  "This information stays in this room," Cam said quietly. She had to work at keeping her own anger in check as she continued, "Apparently, the FBI task force ran background checks soon after Egret alerted them that she was receiving email from Loverboy. They cleared everyone who had ever had anything to do with her security."

  Mac interrupted with a derisive laugh. "Sure - they checked all of us out."

  Cam nodded grimly. "Unfortunately, there appears to have been a breakdown in their internal communications, and the security officers assigned to Egret when her father was the governor were never checked. Harker, AKA Loverboy, was one of them."

  Fielding raised his head sharply. "Does that mean this nutcase was shadowing her for over 10 years?"

  "Lindsey Ryan says it's possible," Cam said, struggling to keep the loathing from her voice. The fact that he would have killed Blair was only part of what made it so abhorrent. Cam was sickened by the very idea that this psychopath had probably watched Blair from the time she was teenager. Worst of all, she knew Blair would never be completely free from idle curiosity and might someday become the object of someone else's obsession. She shoved the thought away. She had to get through this, and then maybe she could lie down and the pounding in her head would stop. "Whatever happened, the FBI will clean up their own mess."

  "Yeah, right," Mac snarled. "Except we've had to pay the price for their foul up. First you, then Jeremy, and now Grant."

  "Update on the injured," Cam continued, ignoring Mac's remark although privately she agreed with him. From what she had heard from Stewart Carlisle, SAC Doyle was getting all the credit for the takedown. She didn't begrudge the FBI that, because Savard had been the one to stop him. This was not about who got the glory, but about the fact that Blair was no longer in danger, at least for the moment. For that, she would always be grateful to Renee Savard. The fact that Doyle had nearly gotten Ellen Grant killed was another issue, and she would not soon forget that.