Above All, Honor

At six a.m. United States Secret Service Agent Cameron Roberts boarded a small jet bound for New York City. She wore her ID badge clipped to the pocket of her dark blue gabardine suit. She carried an overnight bag with a change of clothes, and her computer. The rest of her belongings would follow on a separate flight, and would be delivered to her new apartment in the Gramercy Park Hotel later that day by some member of her team. After four hours of deep sleep, undisturbed by dreams, she felt fresh and ready to work. That she didnt like her assignment was now a moot point. She had a job to do, and that was all that mattered.

The flight was only partially full. It was Saturday morning, and only a few government employees were traveling. She took a seat across the aisle from a burly blond man with a badge that displayed FBI in bold letters. She saw him study her own badge as she sat down. Female agents were no longer rare, but she still drew attention. She was used to it.

"Investigative division?" he questioned as the plane taxied down the runway.

She nearly said 'yes', then stopped herself quickly. With a shake of her head, she replied, "Protective."

"Anybody important?" he asked curiously.

"Arent they all?"

He couldnt tell if she was joking, so he stifled a laugh. And they said FBI agents were humorless!

She opened a laptop computer, subtly angling the screen away from him. He took the hint and opened a newspaper as she entered her password.

She entered the link to the USSS personnel division and brought up the bios on her new team. Nothing out of the ordinary. Four men and four women in addition to herself, all with more than five years experience in the field. All college educated, as were almost all agents except the rare few who came through military channels or some other unusual route. All had advanced emergency medical training, as had she, and all were expert marksman. Two of the men and one woman were married; there was one Hispanic and two black agents. She fixed a name to each face and exited the site.

Entering the protected password, she brought up the encrypted file she had downloaded last night.

___

Field Report, Fri 12/26, 21:30

Submitted by USSS Agent in Charge Daniel Ryan

Subject: Blair Jane Powell

DOB: 12/31/1972

Residence: 310 Gramercy Park, PH

New York City, 10021

Phone: (212) 295-0566

Marital Status: Single

Education: Washington Friends High School, Wash. D.C.

Paris Institute of Fine Arts

Occupation: Artist

Business address: NA

Business Agent: Diane Bleeker

Code Name: Egret

Physical Description: WF, 58", 120 lbs.

Hair: Blonde, Eyes: Blue.

Distinguishing marks: 2 cm scar right eyebrow, 3cm tattoo

right posterior shoulder ( purple and blue labyris)

Medical Conditions: None

Allergies: None

Significant relationships: (SEE ATTACHED REPORTS)

Romantic: Current - unverified

Last known - classified, FYEO file

Summary: Standard twenty-four hour rotating shift surveillance. Subject schedule fluid, frequently unverifiable. Communication link: Team commander only per subject request. On-person com links refused.

___

The file was bare bones minimum, and Cam wondered what her predecessor wasnt willing to commit to hard copy. Shed find out soon enough. He was meeting her at the airport for a debriefing.

She sipped her coffee and slipped the thin folder that held the Eyes Only report on Egrets last known lover from her briefcase. She read it carefully, her expression betraying nothing. According to this, until eighteen months ago, the Presidents daughter had been having an affair with the wife of the French Ambassador. For obvious reasons, the relationship had been kept under deep cover, although rumors had floated in the security community for years about the sexual leanings of Blair Powell. Part of Cams job was to see that those rumors remained just that. Her job would be doubly hard if the subject refused to cooperate.

She wondered briefly if her appointment as commander of the security detail assigned to Ms. Powell hadnt been due to her own sexual preferences. It wasnt a matter of record, of course, but no one really believed that any one in the governments employ had any secrets. She had been careful, but certainly not paranoid, about her personal life. After the events of a year ago, she doubted there was much her superiors didnt know. Speculation was futile, and pointless. She knew for certain she didnt care.

She fed the file recounting the details of Blair Powells love life into the shredder at the front of the plane as she exited.

**********

"Sorry to transition on the run," Daniel Ryan remarked as they settled into a booth in the airport cafeteria. "I have to catch the next flight out."

"No problem," Cam replied neutrally.

"Mac Phillips, who will basically be your aide, has the apartment building plans, evac routes, and hospital info ready to review with you as soon as you arrive. Your NYPD liason is Lieutenant Marcia Landers; shes Hostage Rescue. She usually interfaces with the police patrol division commander, Lieutenant Chuck Thayer, if Egret is travelling to some public function. Both good people. Otherwise, we cover her internally."

"Uh huh," Cam said casually. Everything he was telling her could have easily been relayed by anyone on the team. She was waiting for him to get to the point of this private meeting.

He watched her watching him. Her rep was that she was a real straight arrow, by-the-book agent. Shed have to be to get this post. She certainly looked the part. Her short dark hair was perfectly trimmed, neat around her ears, collar length in back; her suit was without a wrinkle, and perfectly tailored to her tight, trim build; she didnt display a hint of nerves, or anything else - assessing him with intense, piercing gray eyes. Her bio said shed been in the investigative unit for twelve years. Why shed been reassigned to the protective division was anybodys guess. Beyond that scant information, she was a cipher. He couldnt find anyone who had inside knowledge about her, and no one had heard even a whisper that she was anything other than an obsessively dedicated agent. He met her gaze and made a decision.

"Can we talk off the record here?"

"Go ahead," Cam responded.

"Every day for the last six months I woke up wondering who I had pissed off to get this assignment," he said with a shake of his head. "Egret is practically impossible to protect because she doesnt want us around. Shes had eleven years of practice misleading us, evading us, and generally humiliating us when it comes to surveillance. Shes like Jeckyl and Hyde. At public functions, shes fine - cooperative, even friendly. Privately, she does everything she can to make our job hell. She refuses to discuss her schedule with anyone except the team commander. Congratulations. Then she changes plans without telling anyone. We almost never have time to adjust vehicle placement or equipment, so we have to shadow her on foot, which in New York City is a nightmare. She absolutely refuses to wear a microphone or any other tracking device, even on direct instruction from the President." He handed her two photographs. "Then theres this."

She studied the shots side be side. The first was a standard publicity picture, a close up of Blair Powell at the opening of the Reagan Library earlier that year. As usual, she looked poised and confidant. Her blonde hair was swept back from her face, held with a silver clasp at the base of her neck. Her makeup was understated and flawless, serving only to accentuate the natural elegance of her sculpted face and clear, smooth skin. Her designer dress highlighted her sleek form, complimenting both her athleticism and her subtle softness. She was, in a word, beautiful.

The second photo was a candid taken when the subject was unaware. It was grainy, suggesting it had been taken from a unit with a telephoto lens. The details, however, were clear. The woman in the photo wore tight faded jeans and a white cotton tank top. Her breasts, firm and well-shaped, were clearly evident beneath the thin material and unencumbered by a brassiere. The clothes displayed her long legs, sleek torso, and toned limbs with brazen explicitness. Her collar length blonde hair hung free around her face, mildly curly, looking as if she had simply run her hands through it in lieu of a comb. She wore no make-up, and didnt look like she needed any. She exuded an energy that was palpable even in the poor photo. She projected the sensuality of a jungle cat, and looked about as dangerous. She bore almost no resemblance to the contained, refined woman in the first shot.

Cam handed him the photographs silently. It was his show.

"No one in the general public recognizes her like that, and sometimes it even takes us a minute or two. In that time, she can disappear in the crowd, walk into a restaurant unnoticed, get into a cab without a fuss. Thats why its so easy for her to lose us. No one points a finger at her, or runs after her trying to get an autograph."

"But you and your operatives still know what she looks like," Cam pointed out. "You can find her." That was obvious, and she wondered when he would get to the real issue.

He nodded agreement. "Sure we can. Most of the time. The problem is, we also need to protect her privacy, as well as her reputation." He ignored the slight lift in Cams eyebrow at that line of bullshit. Blair Powellhad no privacy. They both knew it was thePresidents image they needed to keep untarnished. Any scandal regarding his daughter reflected on his parenting skills, and ultimately on his character.

Blowing out a breath, he cut to the chase. "Shes a lesbian. In certain situations, if we call attention to her, thats going to get out. She knows it, and she uses it."

"How so?"

"She frequents some of the gay bars. Its hard for me to put agents in there, even when theyre undercover. I never know when shes going to duck into one. Plus, I dont exactly want to announce to everyone there that Blair Powell just walked in. She picks up women - women we have absolutely no way of identifying in the moment. We have no way to know where they might go, no way to put agents in place in advance. We are constantly running in second place hoping to God she doesnt get herself into trouble before we can get there."

"Is she promiscuous?" Cam asked evenly.

"She does better with women than I ever did," he remarked in frustration. "She doesnt have a steady girlfriend. I wish to hell she did. Then maybe we could keep track of her. She doesnt exactly sleep around, but she doesnt go long without sex either."

"What are you trying to tell me here, Agent Ryan?" Cameron asked, tired of skirting the edges of the issue. "In addition to the fact that we have an uncooperative, high profile subject with a very problematic lifestyle?"

"Shes an angry animal in a cage, and youre the new zookeeper. Shes been trying to escape for years, and when she does, someone is going to get hurt."

Cameron inclined her head in agreement. Blair Powell had lived with constant surveillance since her father had been elected Vice President for two terms, and governor of New York before that. Now that he was a newly seated President, she had at least three more years of even closer monitoring. She was a prisoner in all but name, and Cameron doubted anyone could tolerate that for long. The political pressure to hide her sexuality must make it even worse. If she had the luxury of empathizing with the First Daughter, she would have felt deeply for her predicament. But Blair Powells happiness was not her responsibility, and she couldnt waste time or objectivity worrying about it.

"Some one may indeed get hurt," she responded. "I intend to see that its not her."