spoke her voice was cool, her command voice. Calm and steady, uninflected, impersonal, infinitely professional. 'You should have reported it to Mac when it started again three months ago, Ms. Powell, and you should have told me yesterday. At your earliest convenience, I need to discuss the security protocols. In light of the new information, we have to assume a higher level of alertness. If you could check your schedule now please, I'd like to do this in the morning - as early as possible.'
The silence deepened.
While Cam had been talking, Blair watched the flurry of emotions race across her face. She had seen her go from anger and frustration to this implacable facade that she recognized as the barrier Cam placed between her emotions and everything else in order to do her job. In the rational part of her mind, Blair understood that that was what made Cam so good at what she did, but it was not what she wanted betweenthem . She did not want Cam to distance herself in order to care for her. She wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, but she was very certain it wasn't that. Her own frustration and fear surfaced, and she said caustically, 'That's your solution to everything, isn't it, Cameron? Tighten the security, tighten the restraints around me. That's a simple answer, and easy for you. However, it doesn't work for me.'
With effort, Cam said quietly, 'This isn't something that's negotiable. This man is serious. He's persistent and clever and talented and he's fixated on you. By all rights, you should be secluded somewhere until he can be apprehended.'
At that thought, every survival instinct Blair had emerged on a wave of irrational terror. She would not be made a captive. She had been imprisoned in one way or another her entire life. Nothing mattered more to her than her freedom, nothing except one thing. 'I don't want you on this detail, Roberts. I can't work with you. Iwon't work with you. If you won't resign, I'll do what I have to do to get you pulled off.'
'I spoke with your father this afternoon,' Cam said darkly. 'He seems to feel that I'm the best person for this job. So do I. This is one time your influence is not going to have any effect.'
Blair stared at her, opened-mouthed in astonishment. When she could find her voice, she said incredulously, 'You spoke with my father?'
Cam walked a few feet towards a nearby sofa and leaned against the back, trying to work out some of the tension in her body. She felt wound so tight she was afraid she'd lose control, and at this point, Blair's very future could depend upon what happened between them in the next few minutes. 'It was unexpected. He showed up at the briefing about this - situation.'
Thinking back, it had been a strange encounter.
The President had acted as if Doyle and Cam hadn't been about to fling themselves over the table at each other, merely motioning to the people gathered with one hand and saying, 'Sit, please.'
They had done so, and the NSA representative introduced the others and hastened to assure the President that everything possible was being done to protect his daughter. Andrew Powell said nothing, listening quietly and studying each face carefully. After a minute or two he said, 'I'm sure that everything is being done appropriately. I'm on a tight schedule and I'd like to speak with Agent Roberts, if your meeting is concluded.'
That was clearly a dismissal.
Lindsey Ryan stood immediately and began gathering her things, as did Stewart Carlisle. Doyle and Owens looked like they might object for a moment, and then with slightly disgruntled expressions, filed out of the room. When the door closed, for the first time in her life, Cam stood alone facing the President of the United States. Their eyes met and Cam asked, 'What may I do for you, Mr. President?'
A very faint smile flickered across his handsome face. She saw Blair in him as his features briefly softened, and in that instant, her anger turned to hard resolve. She would not allow Blair to become a pawn in some ambitious bureaucrat's political game, nor would she see her become the object of a psychotic's obsession.
'It seems that I need to rely on you again, Agent Roberts, to look after my daughter. I'm sure the task force is doing everything they can, but I know my daughter, and she is not going to make this easy for anyone.'
'Sir,' Cam began, intending to defend Blair. Given the circumstances, her security team had had the least problems of any working with her.
He raised his hand as if he knew what she were going to say. He looked past her for a moment, as if seeing something she couldn't. 'She didn't choose this life - I chose it for her. It's been hard for her. I know that. She's strong and she's stubborn and I wouldn't change anything about her. I'm counting on you to see that both her freedom and her safety continue.'
'Yes sir, Mr. President,' Cam said very quietly, her eyes never leaving his. 'I'll do that, sir. You can depend on it.'
He had nodded, thanked her, and left the room. Had she not had her own motives for needing to be involved, his unspoken command would have been enough. But she did have her own reasons. And they were very personal.
Cam looked at Blair and said softly, 'I'm sorry, Blair. I'm staying.'
I'm staying.The words screamed in Blair's head. Words she wanted to hear from her, but not this way. Not like this. Not because of this. She couldn't have this conversation any longer. She couldn't think about what it meant for either of them.I'm staying.
She grabbed her bag from a nearby table and snapped, 'Well, I'm not. I'm going out.'
Cam made no move to stop her. She would not be her jailor. But when she spoke, her voice held a question. 'Blair?'
Something in the almost defeated tone of Cam's voice stopped her. It was a weariness she had rarely heard in her, even after she'd worked days on no sleep. Blair turned from the door, looking back at her where she still leaned against the back of the sofa. She had been almost too angry to see her clearly before, but now the shadows in Cam's face stood out in gaunt relief. It was her eyes, though, that gave her away. They were dull with fatigue, flickering with something close to despair. She hadn't looked like that even when she'd been in the hospital recovering from her wounds.
