Please god, dont let us fuck up the first day, Agent John Fielding thought as he relayed his chiefs instructions to the two agents in pursuit.
**********
'Where is she?' Cam asked without preamble.
'At the Soho gym,' Fielding replied with obvious relief.
'Do you have visual confirmation of that?'
'Yes maam. Paula Stark is inside.'
Cam relaxed. 'Good. Im going to shower and change. If she moves before I check in, call me.'
Twenty minutes later she sat across the street from the Soho gym watching the entrance. A metallic blue Ford diagonally opposite her held two secret service agents doing the same thing. She didnt think they were aware of her. She wasnt watching them. She trusted her agents for this type of routine surveillance. She was there because she wanted to get a sense of Blair Powell. She wanted to know where she ate, where she shopped, where she went for entertainment, and where she spent her evenings. Then she would begin to feel she could protect her.
Four hours later she was beginning to fill in some of the blanks. From a distance she had observed Blair dine with an exotic appearing dark-haired woman in a small Italian restaurant in the west Village. From there the two women had walked a few blocks to a neighborhood gay bar for a nightcap. They had taken their time, window shopping, stopping off at a bookstore, purchasing espresso from a curbside stand. They were in the bar now, and so was one of her agents. She didnt really care if Blair saw him. Their presence should be anticipated. Cam simply told him to keep his distance and not to intrude upon them. Cam was considering calling it a night. It didnt look like this was anything more than an evening out for Blair Powell, and the team assigned to shadow her seemed to have things under control. She was reaching for her radio to check out when she spotted Blairs companion hurry from the bar and hail a cab. She was instantly alert.
'Young - this is Roberts. Do you have Egret in visual?'
'Negative. Shes in the restroom.'
Cam switched channels. 'Stark - get into that bathroom.'
'Im on it,' the female agent replied as she exited the car parked just down the street from the small corner bar.
The moments passed slowly until Cams earpiece crackled to life.
'Shes not in here, Chief,' Stark announced.
'Recheck the entire bar. If shes not inside, start a sweep of the surrounding area. Shes on foot, at least for now.' Cam punched in the numbers of the command center on her cell phone as she spoke. 'Fielding, give me the addresses of all gay bars in a twenty block radius - start with known locales first.'
While she waited for the computer to produce the information, she considered the situation. Blair had intentionally evaded them, which was not all that hard to do since they werent guarding her with the manpower a criminal surveillance would demand. That was because Blair was supposed to be a friendly protectee. Now that she was out of their range she was at potential risk for kidnapping, or if documented in some compromising circumstance, for blackmail. The fact that she was not easily identifiable as the Presidents daughter was the only thing they had going for them. It was going to be a long tense night until they found her.
'Ive got that list for you, Chief,' Fielding said as he came on line.
'Go,' she said. There were six potentials in the immediate area. 'Get Mac Phillips in to co-ordinate the teams. Im going to check out the ones at the top of the list.'
'Got it. Good luck,' he signed off.
Right, Cam muttered to herself as she locked her car and joined the crowds on the ever busy streets of Greenwich Village. An hour later she paid her third cover charge of the evening and thanked a leather-clad bouncer for a particularly garish skull and cross bones stamped on her hand. She was in a loft on a dingy block just off Houston in a massive bar that was dimly lit with recessed red lights. The interior space was divided into several levels, with at least two bars, dance floors scattered at random, and what appeared to be a warren of smaller rooms in the rear. It was women only and predominately but not exclusively a leather bar. Cam bought a beer and began to wander through the crowded main room. Toward the rear, twisting halls led off to other rooms, all of them full. She glanced into each of the smaller areas she passed, noting that the overt sexual activity increased the deeper she went into the building. At one point she had to move sideways along the wall to pass two women with their hands inside each others clothing, oblivious to those passing by or standing in the shadows observing their heated encounter.
As soon as she pushed her way into the dark bar at the end of the long hallway, Cam saw her. She was leaning against the bar, facing the room. Cam turned her back, stepping behind several women grouped along the wall. She whispered her location and instructions to the other agents before returning her gaze to Blair Powell. The Presidents daughter had been joined by another woman, who pressed close against her in the crowded space. The stranger whispered urgently into Blairs ear. Blair gazed past her into the seething crowd of bodies on the small dance floor, not answering.
Cam observed the women impassively. Blair looked remote, as if her mind were elsewhere. The leatherclad woman with her was obviously trying to interest her in something a little more intimate. As she leaned to kiss Blairs neck, she ran a hand up the inside of Blairs bluejeaned thigh, and would have pressed her hand to the triangle between Blair's legs if Blair hadnt gripped her wrist, pushing her hand away at the last second. Throughout the entire time, Blairs face barely registered a response.
It was clear to Cam that no one knew or cared who Blair was. Everyone was absorbed in their own pursuit of sex, or whatever particular thrill they were seeking. Cam needed to be sure Blair remained anonymous, and she wasnt entirely sure how to do that. Calling attention to her by trying to remove her against her will certainly wasnt the best course of action. Cam resigned herself to watching for the time being. That proved to be more difficult than she anticipated.
Blairs companion was not easily diverted, and continued her insistent caresses. She had essentially trapped Blair against the bar with an arm on either side of her while she straddled Blairs leg between her own. Blair turned her face away as the woman persisted in kissing her neck, one hand now inside Blair's shirt, fondling her breast. Blair did not seem particularly affected by the activity, but her ardent suitor apparently was. As Cam watched, the
