Love & Honor

Chapter Twenty-One

At 1830 hours that evening, Cam sat in a deserted anteroom in front of a plain varnished door with a small sign bearing Stewart Carlisles name. She settled in to wait, but just a few minutes passed when his administrative assistant appeared around the corner and said, «Hes ready for you.

When she opened the door and stepped into the unadorned office that had little in the way of personalized touches other than a small framed photo on the wall of a very young Stewart Carlisle with John Fitzgerald Kennedy and his brother Robert, her immediate superior was making a notation on the bottom of a report.

"Grab a chair", he said without looking up.

She chose the right hand one of a pair of institutional fabric covered office chairs in front of his desk and crossed her right ankle over her knee, her hands resting loosely on the thin wooden armrests. When he finally closed the folder and pushed the pile of papers away with his right hand, looking up to meet her gaze, his face revealed nothing.

"What happened with that newspaper photograph?" he began without preamble. "Thats just the kind of thing the White House likes to chew my ass over."

"I was going to ask you the same thing", she said calmly. "We should have had intelligence that the photo was going out over the wires and been prepared for the article in the Post. As it was, we walked into a hornets nest of reporters at Teterboro when we arrived last night. We were lucky it didnt turn into a free for all. So where was the breakdown in the system?"

A muscle bunched in his jaw, but his voice, too, was even as he replied, "Since you were there when the picture was taken, I assumed youd be able to tell me."

For a second, Cam thought he was referring to her presence on the beach with Blair, before she realized that he simply meant San Francisco. Oddly, it didnt bother her. There was not one moment in her relationship with Blair that she would deny to anyone. On the other hand, in a world rife with double dealings, political blackmail, and constant struggle for bureaucratic superiority, she had learned never to divulge information that could be used as a weapon against her or anyone she cared for.

"The photo was taken with a long-range telephoto lens, probably across the water from an adjacent pier. We had close physical surveillance in place, but no substantial perimeter. I had no reason to believe in that particular location it was required."

"The camera could just as well have been a long-range rifle equipped with a night scope", he pointed out as if discussing an inconsequential notation in the margin of a not particularly interesting article. "She could be dead instead of just caught in an embarrassing moment."

A pain like a shard of glass tore through her chest and it even hurt to take a breath, but outwardly her expression didnt change. "Ive thought of that. Unless we keep her at highest priority twenty-four hours a day, we cant prevent it if someone decides to do it. Ordinarily, that kind of perimeter is not required for her, and I felt our security status at that time was adequate."

"Its going to be one more piece of ammunition against you."

"Meaning what?"

"I received a call from Justice this morning. Apparently, a petition for a formal inquest into the outcome of the operation in New York has been lodged by the NSA chief and the Deputy Director of the Bureau."

"Thats precedent setting, isnt it?"

He shrugged. "It was a joint operation, so the Bureau is within their rights to ask for it. Bottom-line though, its the casualties that resulted that make it difficult to fight without looking like we have something to hide. There's not much I can do about it."

"All right. I understand."

"I'm not sure that you do. They want you relieved of duty until the inquiry is completed."

Gray eyes hardened, but she didn't move a muscle. "What didyou say?"

For the first time that day, and for one of the very few times she could ever remember, he looked uncomfortable. "I told them no, but I don't know how long that will last."

"Since when do you let outside departments tell the Secret Service how to run its business?"

"Since the President was forced to accept an FBI Director who is just a little bit further right than Joe McCarthy. Damn it, Roberts, you know that ever since William Morrow was appointed that the FBI has been working nonstop to expand its investigative reach and confiscate as much power as possible from the other security divisions."

"And you think that the Bureau is behind this move to investigate me?"

"That's my best guess."

"Why? What difference does it make to them whos in charge of Blair Powell's security?"

For a moment, he didn't speak and she knew he was making a decision as to whether he could ultimately trust her or not. Bureaucratic politics superseded even friendship. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and grimaced.

"Think about it. In another six months, Andrew Powell will need to consolidate a reelection platform. He'll need money and backers and a very high popularity rating or he may not win a bid for reelection. His liberal left of center views haven't always gone over well-witheither party. He's not a shoe-in to get the nod from his own party." He shrugged, as if that explained things, but went on to say, "In the days of J. Edgar Hoover, the FBI had dossiers on every important political figure in the country, as well as leaders of industry, civil rights organizers, Hollywood stars-everyone with any conceivable connection to the men who held the reins of power-citizens and criminals alike. They used information as a weapon and bought and sold Presidents at will. Some suggested that if they couldn't buy them, they killed them. Or at least looked the other way while someone else did."

"But that was thirty, forty years ago," Cam protested.

"And you think that couldn't happen again? Look at the direction the Supreme Court has taken in the last twenty years-they dont evenpretend to be non-partisan. Andrew Powell is a very liberal president, and there are a lot of people in Washington who arent happy that he was elected. Right now, my best guess is that some powerful people who want him out are gathering as much ammunition from every quarter that they possibly can. Having an edge on the President's daughter, having some degree of control over the information flow to and from the quarter, might be parlayed into political leverage at some point."

"That seems like a stretch to me," Cam argued.

"Not if someone heading her task force reports directly to the FBI, and not to me."

Cam stiffened. "If I'm out, Mac Phillips would replace me, and I guarantee he's not a mole for anyone."

"It wouldn't necessarily be Mac Phillips who replaces you," Carlisle said slowly.

"But that would be up to you. You'll name my successor."

He stared at her silently. Her heart began to pound and her throat suddenly felt dry. "Is someone squeezing you on this? Stewart, if you're in trouble, Ill help if I can. But not at the expense of Blair Powell's safety."

Methodically, he straightened the file folders on his desk and when he looked up, his face was expressionless again. "For the time being, consider yourself notified of a formal inquest. You'll remain on duty until such time as the panel convenes and makes a determination as to whether suspension is recommended."

"Shes due to go to Paris in less than a week. It's a high security agenda, and I intend to lead the team. If you try to take me off before that, youll have to put me in jail to do it."

When he didn't answer, she got to her feet and walked to his desk, then leaned down with her palms flat on the surface. Her voice was low and strong. "Do whatever it is you have to do as far as I'm concerned, but don't put her at risk because of it."

"That will be all, Agent Roberts."

She continued to look at him for a long moment, then straightened. "Yes, sir."

When she reached the lobby, she signed the log and retrieved her cell phone. Once outside, she punched in a number and waited until a familiar accentless female voice answered. Then she repeated her anonymous account number and requested an appointment, again using only an identifying code.

"Im sorry, that employee is not currently available. May I substitute someone with similar qualifications?"

"No, thank you. Please check your priority list and cross-reference this account number, please."

"Just one moment."

A minute later, the pleasant tones returned. "Im so sorry to have inconvenienced you. For what time shall I record the appointment?"

"Just relay the request and note this is an open ended appointment for this evening."

"Certainly. If you would call the following number and note the appointment address."

Cam memorized the number, thanked her, and rang off. Briefly, she considered calling Blair, and then realized that there was nothing she could tell her that she wanted to say over the phone. She wasnt certain how much she really wanted to share with her in personbecause she didnt know how to make Blair understand what she might need to do.