Oath Of Honor

Chapter Thirty-four

Derrick Sullivan slipped into the parlor and signaled discreetly to Russo.

Russo smiled at the bejeweled, pencil-thin blonde by his side, grateful for the interruption. He only suffered her vacuous conversation because her husband was one of his largest campaign donors. “Will you excuse me, Mrs. Winthrop?”

She pouted slightly. “Only if you promise to return.”

“As soon as I possibly can—I want to hear more about those famous racehorses of yours.”

She brightened and fluttered her thick lashes. “I can’t wait.”

Russo threaded his way through the tuxedoed and coiffed crowd to where his aide waited just inside the door. “What is it, Derrick?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir, but you’re needed in the study.”

“Dinner is being served in fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Shall I tell the caterers to delay?”

“No, go ahead. I’ll be there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Russo ignored his wife’s questioning glance as he hurried out and down the hall to his study. He let himself in and closed the door behind him. Hooker lounged on a leather sofa facing the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other, his arms stretched out along the back. At least he’d worn presentable clothing, but he looked haggard—his face drawn and creased with fatigue.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Russo said, “and I’ve got a houseful of guests. What are you doing here?”

“A problem,” Hooker said. “I could use a drink.”

Russo clenched his teeth but walked to the bar on the opposite side of the room and splashed whiskey into a glass. He set it on a polished mahogany table next to the sofa and made his way behind his desk. “You have ten minutes.”

Hooker leaned over and picked up the drink. “The exchange was made on schedule, as planned, but the DC contact was intercepted.”

“Arrested?” Russo asked, the hairs along the back of his neck tingling at the surge of adrenaline.

“Detained, at the very least.”

“Can we trust him—”

“Her.”

Russo rubbed his eyes and fought down the wave of anger. “You entrusted something of this magnitude to a woman?”

“Believe me, she’s qualified.”

“Apparently not that well qualified. What about the specimen?”

“Confiscated.”

“You’re telling me that all this time and money has been wasted?”

Hooker’s mouth tightened. “I advised you against a plan this complex. Too many ways for it to go sideways.”

“How did they find out?”

“I don’t know. It’s going to take me some time to get back inside.”

Russo tightened his fist. “You need to see that none of this comes back on us.”

Hooker smiled. “Already being done.”

“And how much is that going to cost me?”

“The same as my original fee.”

“The next time,” Russo said, making sure the threat was apparent in his voice, “I’ll expect no mistakes.”

“Next time, maybe you’ll take my advice and use something more straightforward and dependable.” Hooker tossed back his drink and slapped the glass down on the expensive wood top with a sharp clink. “Like a rifle.”

“I don’t like loose ends,” Russo said.

“Neither do I. There aren’t going to be any.”

Russo unlocked his bottom right-hand desk drawer and sorted through the cash. He relocked the drawer, walked around the desk, and handed the money to Hooker. “Merry Christmas. I’ll have Derrick see you out.”

*

Blair jumped to her feet as Cam strode into Lucinda’s office. “You’re not hurt?”

“No.” Cam kissed her quickly. “We’re all okay. Evyn Daniels has a flesh wound, but she should be fine.”

“And the virus?” Lucinda said, coming around to the front of her desk. “Contained?”

“All but a certainty,” Cam said. “We’ve all been cultured, but the lab reported the vial appeared to be intact. They say the likelihood of infection is very low.”

“Good news, then,” Blair said.

Cam grimaced. “Not exactly.”

Lucinda straightened. “What?”

“I don’t suppose you have anything stronger than coffee?”

Lucinda smiled faintly and gestured to the two chairs in front of her desk. “Both of you, go ahead and sit.” She walked back around to the other side. “Scotch work for you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Blair?”

“No. Thanks.”

Cam settled into the chair and leaned her head back with a sigh. Blair eased onto the arm and stroked Cam’s hair. “You’ve been at it for hours. You need a break.”

“I’m okay.” Cam opened her eyes and smiled up at her. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, now that you’re here. We only got a partial report from the field, and when they said an agent had been wounded, I had a couple of bad moments.”

“I’m sorry, I called as soon as I could, but—”

“I know. You can’t stop in the middle of what you’re doing to check in with me.” Blair slid her arm around Cam’s shoulders and leaned down to kiss her. “So I’m just going to have to worry once in a while. I can handle it.”

Cam gripped her hand. “I’ll try not to make it too often.”

“Deal.”

“Here you are.” Lucinda held out a short heavy glass filled with an inch of amber liquid.

“Thanks.” Cam swallowed down half. “I don’t think there’s anything quite as scary as fanatics. Practically impossible to interrogate. They can’t be intimidated, and when they’re absolutely certain they’re right—which is always—they’ll protect the rest of their bunch no matter the consequences.”

“I take it the lieutenant isn’t talking?” Lucinda asked.

“Oh, she’s talking,” Cam said. “She’s adamant she had no idea what was in the package, that she’d never met the man in the diner before, and she only drew her weapon because she felt threatened by Agent Daniels.”

Blair snorted. “You’re kidding me, right? We’re supposed to believe that she thought Evyn was going to accost her? What about the virus?”

“She insists she thought she was carrying a gift from her sister. Unfortunately, the taped phone conversation from last night could be construed as supporting that story.”

“Oh sure, right. How does she explain this guy passing her the vial, then?”

“She claims she’s an unwitting victim in a scheme to spread the virus in the White House. According to her, the real boyfriend is still en route—and this guy hacked her e-mail to look for a cover story.”

“They’re smart,” Blair snarled. “While it’s a little outrageous, it could be possible.”

Lucinda tapped her fingers on her desk. “What do we have for leverage to force her to cooperate?”

“Right now? Not much—the lab tech, Angela Jones, disappeared the same day the virus went missing. We’ve got her name and her suspected association with Jennifer Pattee. We’ll work that. And we have Pattee’s contact in custody.” Cam set the unfinished scotch on Lucinda’s desk. “And there’s the other problem. He says he was hired to make the delivery yesterday—that a friend of a friend called him and offered him ten grand to meet a woman and pass her a package.”

“He’s claiming to know nothing of what was in the package?” Lucinda asked.

“According to him,” Cam said, “he’s just a messenger.”

Blair jumped up and paced a step, then spun back. “Are you kidding me? What about the phone call to Pattee the night before?”

“Scripted for him. That and the conversation in the diner. He was just playing a role.”

“And what did he think that was?” Blair said.

Cam shrugged. “He says he didn’t care—the money was good.”

Lucinda leaned back in her desk chair, frowning. “Who is he?”

“His name is Elliot Marsh—ID’d from his license. Appears to be a legit ID.”

“Let me guess,” Lucinda said dryly. “He’s from Idaho.”

“Bingo.”

Blair pointed a finger at Cam. “You know it’s bigger than these two. There has to be a conspiracy.”

Cam nodded. “I do know, and we’ll unravel it. But it’s going to take time and likely mean we’ll be putting people undercover.”

“And in the meantime?” Blair asked. “What about Jennifer and this guy Marsh?”

“Oh,” Cam said with a hard smile, “they’re not going anywhere.”

“We cannot allow this attack to go unanswered,” Lucinda said, fixing her attention on Cam. “I want you to put together a task force and find out who’s behind this. You’ll head it and report directly to Averill.”

Cam glanced at Blair.

“Yes,” Blair said softly, taking Cam’s hand. “Yes. Whoever they are, they have to be stopped.”

Cam squeezed her hand. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”