Love & Honor

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The four of them had barely settled into the Suburban with Stark behind the wheel, when Cam's cell phone rang.

"Roberts."

She listened for a moment, then handed the phone to Savard. "It's Mac. Can you give him directions to your sisters? Hes got some information for us and I want him to be there when we take a look at our latest present."

Nodding, Savard quickly gave Mac the information.

Fifteen minutes later, they were settling into the small but comfortable living room of an apartment in Chelsea. The furnishings were worn but had once been expensive, and the space beneath the windows and most other available niches were filled with plants of all description, adding a sense of warm welcome that was distinctly different than the impersonal apartments and hotel rooms most of them were used to spending their time in.

Cam noted with satisfaction a work area in a small alcove adjoining the living room that contained a desk, high end video equipment, and a state of the art computer system.

"You think we can use that to look at the tapes Mac has?" she asked, indicating the electronic array with a tilt of her head.

"Sure," Savard said, "as long as it'syour paycheck guaranteeing against any damage."

Cam smiled. "I'll put it in writing."

Rene walked through to a tiny kitchen and called over her shoulder, "What does everyone want to drink?"

As they were chorusing their answers, the buzzer rang and Stark crossed to the door and pushed the intercom. "Hello?"

"Phillips, here."

"Three C," Stark reminded him as she held down the button, releasing the security lock on the front door.

A moment later, she opened the door for Mac and, after greetings all around, they found seats on the sofa facing the small coffee table and a grouping of nearby chairs.

"I guess I'll go first," Cam said grimly from where she sat on the sofa next to Blair.

Savard had cleared a space in the center of the coffee table and as everyone leaned nearer, she reached into the manila envelope. There were two glossy sheets which Cam separated and placed on the table for all to see. Everyone shifted so they could look at the images from the proper perspective.

The first required little in the way of comment. Both had again been taken from a distance, but the first, shot in broad daylight, was of good quality and both her face and Blair's were clearly recognizable. So was the fact that their hands were linked as they leaned into one another in what could only be interpreted as an intimate moment.

"How the hell-" Stark exploded.

"That's the deck at the rear of my mother's house," Cam said, for Savard's elucidation. "The rest of you recognize the location, I presume. It was taken at approximately 0800 hours the last day of Ms. Powell's stay in San Francisco."

"I wonder where they were?" Blair murmured, a cold chill making her shiver. It wasn't so much that someone had been watching; it wasn't even that she and Cam had been captured in a private moment-a moment that she remembered very well.

"I'll be sorry to leave here," Blair said quietly.

Cam moved her left hand along the rail until it covered Blair's right. Their shoulders were nearly touching, but only someone on the deck with them could have seen the movement. Automatically, their fingers entwined, thumbs brushing over the tops of each other's hand.

"Yes, so will I. I've been here before, but it takes being here with you to make me realize how beautiful it is. Being with you makes the entire world look different."

For a moment, Blair was speechless. It was one of those times when Cam took her completely by surprise, and it was just the way she had always imagined that being in love would feel. She had just never imagined she would ever feel it herself. "We don't have to leave that feeling here, do we?"

Cam met her gaze again, marveling at the myriad shades of blue that moved in the depths of her lover's eyes. "No. We don't. Let's make sure we don't."

It was a moment that she would never want to forget. What bothered her was that someone else has been silent witness to something that was beautiful and now they were trying to turn into something ugly.

"Anywhere," Cam side flatly. "A nearby rooftop, an apartment on an adjoining street, up a goddamned tree-anywhere with the sightline. If I'd known then what we know now, I would have paid more attention to that avenue of access to you. I didn't anticipate a photographer stalking us." Unconsciously, she rubbed her temple, annoyed at the pain which was surging again.

Blair regarded her with concern.When this is over, Cam is taking a vacation.

"What about the other one?" Savard asked quietly. "Do you know her?"

Savard's eyes were on Blair, who was staring at the photo. It was grainy, and of poorer quality than the one taken in San Francisco, but the faces of the two women who stood in the circle of light cast by a street lamp in front of Cam's apartment building in Washington, D.C. were quite clear.

"No, not precisely," Blair said evenly.

No one spoke, nor asked for further explanation. Despite the unusual circumstances, their training ruled. Federal agents did not question the private life of the first daughter.

"I think Ms. Powell and I need to speak alone for a few minutes," Cam said into the silence.

As everyone began to rise, Blair said, "No, stay." Glancing at Cam, she smiled wryly. "They're all in it now, and I have nothing to hide."

Cam sighed and studied the faces of the three agents sitting shoulder to shoulder across from her.

"I don't know where all this is going. Maybe nowhere." She lifted the photos and let them fall back to the table. "Maybe straight to the AP hotline and the front page of every newspaper in the country."

She had everyone's attention.

"Iknow this woman," Cam said, pointing to Claire in the photograph. "She's an escort with a highly exclusive service in D.C. She and Ms. Powell have no relationship whatsoever."

"That might be difficult to disprove after this, Stark pointed out in as non-accusatory a tone as she could manage.

Blair laughed shortly. "I'm certain that's precisely what this is meant to imply."

"Well," Cam said bitterly. "It seems that someone is tightening the noose. First we have a leak to the press about Blair's secret relationship. Then, obviously, we have documentation of the two of us together in a position that would be hard to explain away." She glanced quickly at Blair. "Even if we wanted to. And now," she finished, pointing to the photo of Blair and Claire, "we have the connection between myself, Ms. Powell, and an escort service. All highly inflammatory business in DC."

"I'm sorry," Stark said ingenuously. "What link is there between you and the escort?"

"I know this woman in the photograph because I've been involved with her, professionally."

"Oh." Stark blushed but held Cam's gaze. "Can anyone prove that?"

Shrugging, Cam replied, "I have no idea."

"Well," Mac said briskly. "That's one of the things we're going to have to find out. And from the looks of things, pretty quickly."

"I agree," Savard said firmly. "We need to devise strategy, divide up the work, and narrow down the suspects in short order-before this whole thing spins out of control."

"Suspects?" Blair said in surprise.

"Yes," Cam said, looking at Savard. She and the FBI agent were the only two people in the room with true investigative experience. Stark and Mac had both been part of the protective arm of the Secret Service their entire careers. "Who stands to gain by this?"

"Well, as you mentioned before," Blair mused. "Any reporter who uncovers an elite escort service in Washington D.C. that caters to government employees and visiting dignitaries would certainly garner quite a reputation. It's a career maker and reason enough."

"Thats true," Mac said. "Except it seems unlikely that a reporter would also be interested in impugningyour reputation. That would only piss off the White House. So why release the photo of you and the Commander to the newspaper before the story breaks? In fact, why involve you at all?"

"Point taken," Blair agreed.

"What about Patrick Doyle?" Stark offered, carefully not looking at Renee Savard. "He hasn't been happy since the Commander upstaged him in the capture of Loverboy-"

"Before that, really," Mac interjected. "He's always had it in for her."

Stark nodded eagerly. "If he's behind it, that would explain a photograph of the Commander with the woman in the bar. She could have been an FBI agent or just a decoy he set up. We all know the FBI has been known to shadow public figures to gather information on them."

"I don't disagree with any of that," Savard said calmly. "But this looks like a much bigger operation than one man could possibly orchestrate. Especially if you're talking about infiltrating and exposing a very well-shielded escort service that's obviously been operating undetected for a long time. That takes undercover agents and people with computer expertise who can access IRS records, phone records, trace calls-the whole nine yards. Doyle couldn't do that on his own."

"Besides," Blair pointed out, "none of this explains why we are getting these cryptic messages. If they were threats, why hasn't something been demanded? Why hasn't someone asked for money or threatened to go public if Cam doesn't resign or put pressure on me to intervene with my father about some upcoming vote?"

"Maybe," Cam muttered, "maybe it's a little of all of the above."

Four sets of eyes stared at her questioningly.