Oath Of Honor

Chapter Twenty-eight

At 0430, Evyn got the text from Cameron Roberts telling her she needed to be at a briefing at 0600. She’d been asleep an hour. When she got home from Wes’s, she was still wired, her body still humming. She’d come out of her mind with Wes barely touching her, but the orgasm was already a distant memory and her body craved more. More of Wes. Adrenaline, that’s all it was. When she got amped up during a tense training exercise or something heated up out in the field, she always got a sexual buzz. That’s all it was. Adrenaline.

Whatever she called it, the burn in her blood was enough to keep her up channel surfing, with Ricochet sitting nearby, watching her warily. He didn’t seem to trust her mood, because he wasn’t in her lap or draped around her shoulders, where he usually perched while she chilled out. He was probably smart not to get too close because she wasn’t chilling out. She was too uncomfortable in her skin to unwind. She finished the one beer she allowed herself, but it didn’t settle her enough to sleep. Finally, exhaustion won out and she stretched out where she was on the couch and fell asleep in her clothes. She dreamed of running through a tangled forest, breathless, lost, pursued by a faceless menace coming ever closer. Roberts’s text had awakened her, saving her from what she feared she might find—the pursuer was her and she was running from herself.

Now, after a quick shower and two shots of espresso, she was walking through the West Wing in her least wrinkled pair of black trousers and her last pressed white shirt. Staffers hurried by, already looking harried. She settled in the briefing room. There wasn’t any coffee—must have been a very hastily assembled meeting. A minute later the door opened and Paula Stark walked in followed by a young agent she recognized from Blair Powell’s detail, but didn’t know personally.

“Hey,” Evyn said, nodding to Paula. Their details often overlapped when the first daughter was traveling with POTUS. She liked Stark—she was on top of things without being super territorial.

“Hi, Evyn. This is Randy Block.”

Evyn leaned over the table to shake hands with the new guy. “How you doing.”

“Fine. Good to meet you.” Block looked like a typical college jock—fair-haired, blue-eyed, strong jaw, good shoulders. A lot like Gary, a wholesome, all-American guy. She wondered what was going on and if Stark knew something she didn’t. But she wasn’t about to ask.

The door opened again and she expected Tom to walk in. She barely managed to keep quiet when Wes sat down across the table from her.

“Morning,” Wes said, glancing around the table. She was wearing charcoal pants, a crisp pale blue shirt open at the throat, and a matte silver bracelet on her right wrist with some kind of intertwining pattern, subtle, understated. Sexy. Her gaze passed over Evyn’s face in the same friendly but distant fashion in which she regarded everyone else in the room.

At precisely 0600, Cameron Roberts walked in. “Morning, everyone. Thanks for getting here on such short notice. I think the only one needing introductions is Captain Masters, the new chief of the White House Medical Unit.”

Stark and Block introduced themselves to Wes and they all shook hands. Evyn wondered why Tom wasn’t there.

“This is need-to-know,” Roberts said as if reading her mind, “and I won’t be giving you much in the way of details.”

Evyn sat still, keeping her shoulders relaxed, preventing the tension curling around her spine from showing in her face or body. She’d learned years ago to school herself, to never give away anything, but it was hard with Wes only a few feet away. She had what she wanted—an impersonal, cordial working relationship, and she hated it. She hated that Wes would walk into a room and not seek her out first, not connect with her in a way she didn’t connect with others. What the fuck was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be satisfied with the way things had always been? Why did she want things now that she’d never wanted before? Why did Wes Masters make her yearn?

Wes looked over at her as if she had been broadcasting her thoughts, and Evyn quickly looked away. She wasn’t certain she could hide what she was feeling from Wes, and she didn’t want her to know she regretted the night before. She regretted walking out. She regretted letting Wes think she could walk away without bleeding inside.

“We need surveillance on an individual we suspect might have ties to a domestic terrorist group that is planning an attack on POTUS.”

None of the agents moved, but the air suddenly vibrated. Evyn’s skin tingled and her heart rate had picked up. Her groin tightened as her senses went to full alert. Wes hadn’t moved either, and she seemed completely composed. Why was she here? This was a security matter.

“We suspect the individual may have access to a biocontagion or may be a contact for someone else who does. This is where Dr. Masters comes in.”

The muscles at the angles of Evyn’s jaws clenched, and she had to force her teeth not to grind. What was this about? Wes wasn’t trained for this.

“The individual in question is Lieutenant Jennifer Pattee, a member of the White House Medical Unit.” Roberts opened her laptop and brought up an image of a woman who looked enough like Jennifer Pattee to be her sister. “We have reason to believe she may have connections to this woman—Angela Jones, although we doubt that’s her given name. Jones is an employee of Eugen Corp, a private laboratory doing viral gene research. They’ve reported an inventory discrepancy in their Level Four lab which we believe may actually be a stolen specimen.”

“The nature of the specimen?” Wes asked.

“Our understanding is it’s an engineered virus—a mutant form of an avian flu virus.”

“What do we know of its properties?”

“Not very much,” Roberts said. “The lead investigators are stonewalling us because their work is preliminary and unreported at this point. They don’t want information being disseminated prematurely, but the transformed avian virus is apparently much more highly transmissible than the natural avian virus.”

“That’s a problem,” Wes said. “The avian flu virus has a high mortality rate, but it is not easily transmissible between fowl and humans, and not transmissible from one human to another.”

Roberts nodded, her expression grave. “They won’t come out and admit to this, but we believe this variant has been aerosolized and is transmissible between humans.”

Wes frowned. “Then you have an agent with the potential to kill vast numbers of individuals.”

Evyn shook her head. “This seems pretty complex for an assassination plot.”

“On the surface, yes,” Roberts said. “There are faster and more direct ways, none of which we need to enumerate here. But while assassination by gunfire is horrifying and dramatic, the public doesn’t see a single act of violence as a personal threat. However, the release of a biological agent capable of killing scores or even more places the danger directly on the public itself. People will be terrified.”

“And consequently,” Paula Stark said softly, “the government will be distrusted and destabilized.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t know the lieutenant very well,” Wes said. “I can’t say that I’ve seen any particularly suspicious behavior from her.”

“Nor would we expect you would have.” Roberts clicked off the computer and pushed it aside. She addressed Wes directly. “If what we believe is true, these individuals have been trained since childhood to carry out specific acts of terrorism after achieving positions of power and trust. If indeed the lieutenant is part of this conspiracy, she’s not going to reveal anything or do anything suspect until the attack itself is set in motion.”

“What’s the goal of surveillance?” Evyn asked.

“We need to intercept her when she receives the agent. Failing that, then we have to prevent the release of the contagion.”

“I can adjust our schedules so I’m on duty with Lieutenant Pattee,” Wes said. “Of course, that’s only going to be ten or twelve hours a day.”

“Yes, do that,” Roberts said. “In addition, Captain, given that the lieutenant has expressed a personal interest, you might be able to observe her in less guarded circumstances.”

“What?” Evyn stood before she could stop herself. She looked from Roberts to Wes and then back to Roberts. “The captain isn’t trained for undercover work, which is essentially what you’re asking her to do. Whatever information she might gain isn’t worth the risk to her or the operation—”

“I think I’m perfectly capable of making expert observations,” Wes said calmly, “and would probably recognize conditions or circumstances conducive to exchanging and transporting a biologic agent more readily than anyone else. If it’s a question of asking her out to dinner or spending an evening with her or more, I’m perfectly willing.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Evyn squared her body to Roberts. “You can’t really expect her to do this.”

“Evyn—” Wes said.

“It’s up to the captain, of course,” Roberts said, “but we expect an attack to be imminent, and we need to take advantage of every avenue of information we possibly can. I admit it’s a long shot, but even the remote possibility of picking up information that would help us pinpoint and intercept the individuals involved is worth pursuing.”

Stark asked, “How strong is the connection between the lieutenant and Angela Jones?”

“Loose,” Roberts admitted. “But more than we have been able to find anywhere else. I want Agents Daniels and Block to work together on surveillance. The lieutenant is familiar with PPD, so Agent Daniels’s presence will likely be unnoticed. And Pattee doesn’t know Blair’s agents at all, so Block can take the lead outside official functions. That will allow us to stagger the coverage without putting a larger detail in place. Unfortunately, we’re not sure how deeply we’re compromised.”

Evyn was no longer a suspect, but that knowledge didn’t make her feel better. All she could think about was Wes suddenly in the middle of some crazy extremist conspiracy, without backup.

“Is Wes going to wear a wire?”

“Yes.”

Evyn closed her fist by her side, struggling to keep her voice even. “That’ll help us monitor her. But if she’s discovered with it on, she’ll be an immediate target.”

“You forget, Agent,” Wes said softly, “I earned my rank. I can take care of myself.”

“This isn’t some field hospital, Wes—”

Roberts cut in. “You can leave Captain Masters’s security to me, Agent Daniels. Your job is to keep the lieutenant in your sights whenever she’s in proximity to the president.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Evyn said tightly. As much as she trusted the director—Roberts had proved more than once she was the best—she didn’t plan on leaving Wes’s safety in anyone else’s hands. She kept her mouth shut though—she’d already revealed too much about her personal feelings. “Why isn’t Tom here?”

“Need-to-know,” Cam said quietly.

“I’ll get to work on adjusting the schedule,” Wes said.

“Good. We’ll communicate by phone and text. Stay off the comm channels. Block, your contact is Stark. Agent Daniels, I’m yours.” Cam glanced at Wes. “And yours.”

“Understood,” Wes said.

Cam stood. “Good. Let’s go.”

Evyn held back while others pushed back from the table. “Wes—Captain Masters—a word, please.”

“Of course,” Wes said as the others filed out.

The door closed, leaving them alone, and Evyn stalked around the table. “This is crazy. You know that, right? Jesus Christ, Wes.”

“Evyn, we have jobs to do. There’s no time for this.”

Evyn gripped Wes’s forearm. “Just be sure you observe and nothing else.”

Wes shook her head. “Do you really think I’m in need of protection?”

The metallic taste of fear, foreign and paralyzing, blurred Evyn’s focus. She took a deep breath, then another. “I know you don’t. It’s just—if something happens to you…I can’t go there, okay?”

“Then don’t. Just trust me.” Wes skimmed a fingertip along Evyn’s jaw. “It’s okay. I like that you worry, but you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

Evyn wanted to grab Wes’s hand and hold it to her, wanted the warm certainty of her touch. She went very still as Wes’s eyes turned that deep green they got when they were alone with nothing between them—no pretense, no fear, no excuses. Deep calm—solid and clear—centered Evyn like no amount of self-imposed control ever had. Last night she’d thought she was losing herself in Wes’s eyes. Now she realized she was finding her true strength. “I’m sorry. I know you can handle this. It’s just—last night. Wes, I thought—”

Wes shook her head. “Evyn, don’t. You don’t need to explain.”

“Yeah—I do. I need you to know—” Evyn shook her head. “We’ve got work—I know it’s not the time.”

“There’s always time if you need me—but I promise you don’t need to worry about this.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“Yes. You too.”

“Always.” Evyn gave her stock answer, only now it wasn’t just a piece of the armor she put on to compete every day in a world where she had to be the best. Now she knew she could feel and still win. “Last night isn’t over. It can’t be over.”

“I don’t want it to be either,” Wes said quietly, “but I don’t want to need what I can’t have.”

“I know I fucked up—”

“I didn’t say that.” Wes smiled wryly. “When this is over, we’ll talk.”

Not what Evyn wanted—not all of what she wanted. But she’d wait. She’d wait, but she wasn’t going to let Wes forget. Or slip away. She kissed her—swift, hard. “I’m not quitting.”

“Do you ever?” Wes asked.

“Never.”

*

Jennifer knocked on Wes’s office door. “Hi. I got your text. I’m fine with the schedule changes.”

“You’ll be short and then doubling up two days in a row.” Wes pulled a file folder over the report she’d been reading.

“Like I said, it’s no problem. This time of year, OT is always welcome.”

“Thanks. Sorry about the late notice. A couple of people have had personal matters come up—it’s the season for it, I guess.”

Jennifer stepped a little farther into the room, her shoulder nudging the door almost closed. “I’m glad for the excuse to spend time with you. It should be pretty quiet.”

“I hear the Christmas buffet for staff is a big event.” Wes thought ahead to the president’s schedule—no trips planned until after New Year’s. No State events during the holidays either. The largest gathering of staff and press would be in two days.

“Shouldn’t be a problem.” Jennifer smiled.

“Well, I’m sorry you’ll be working part of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day too.”

“You’re in the same situation, right?”

“I’m new in town, remember? I didn’t have any plans, so working isn’t that much of a hardship.” Wes wasn’t really sure how convincing she’d be suggesting a personal interest. She didn’t have a hell of a lot of practice—make that no practice—getting up close and personal with colleagues or anyone else. Except with Evyn—being close to Evyn hadn’t taken any effort at all. Last night isn’t over.

“Well,” Jennifer said quickly, “like I said, my plans fell through too. Maybe that’s a sign.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

Apparently, her skills weren’t as bad as she thought. Jennifer’s eyes sparked, and color rose above the vee of her pale-blue cashmere sweater to her throat. “How about we catch a late dinner when our shift is over tonight. Unwind before the last-minute Christmas Eve duty.”

“If you don’t have any plans—”

“I don’t, but even if I did,” Jennifer said, her smile slow and seductive, “I’d change them. I’ve been hoping we’d have a chance to spend some time together.”

“Then I’d like that. Tonight, then?”

“Yes, perfect.”

“Shall I meet you somewhere?”

“Why don’t you come over to my place for a drink after work, and we can leave from there.”

“All right. That sounds perfect.”

Jennifer smiled that suggestive smile again. “It does, doesn’t it? See you later.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

Jennifer left and Wes sagged back in her chair. When she was sure Jennifer wasn’t returning, she called Cameron Roberts and reported the conversation.

“Report to the briefing room before your shift ends,” Cam said. “We’ll wire you up.”

“There’s something else,” Wes said.

“Go ahead.”

Wes slid Len O’Shaughnessy’s toxicology report out from under the file folder. Nothing had jumped out at her until she’d looked at the tissue analysis. “Colonel O’Shaughnessy had unusually high levels of potassium in his cardiac muscle. Enough to cause cardiac arrest.”

“Enough for us to investigate his death as a homicide?”

“Postmortem levels might vary depending on when they were drawn—and he was given a lot of drugs during the resuscitation. This isn’t hard evidence, I’m afraid.”

“Your opinion, then,” Cam said.

“If someone had wanted him out of the way,” Wes said, “I’d say they succeeded.”