Blair didn't relax until they were in the limo again on their way back to her apartment. Cameron sat across from her in silence. However, it was not the heavy awkward silence of the earlier ride from the airport, but rather a comfortable regathering of energy after the stress of the afternoon. Blair had to admit that she had felt safe. Despite all the years of these kinds of experiences, she never quite got over the feeling of being vulnerable. There was something about Cameron Roberts' presence that allowed her to forget for the moment that millions of eyes were upon her. It wasn't that the dozens of others who had preceded Roberts didn't take their job seriously, but Blair had always known it was the job and not her they were working for. What made Cameron Roberts so compelling and at the same time so irritating, was that when she focused on you, you knew you had been seen.


"Come upstairs, Agent Roberts," she said as the limo glided to a stop in front of the brown stone. "We can go over the schedule for the rest of the week."


Cameron hid her surprise at the invitation. "All right," she said as she pushed open the door and stepped out. She glanced quickly up and down the street as she extended her hand to Blair. It was an automatic gesture, and she did it without thought. Blair hesitated for just a second and then took the offered hand in hers. The grip was firm and cool. Blair ignored the tingling in her fingers.


The other members of the team escorted them to the private elevator to Blair's penthouse, departing to take the second elevator to the control room one floor below. As the elevator door opened on the upper-most floor, Cam stepped out first and automatically glanced toward Blair's door. In one swift moment her gun was drawn. She turned abruptly toward Blair who had stepped out of the elevator after her. Cam grasped her around the waist, and pushed her forcefully back into the elevator.


"Stay behind me," she ordered as she slapped the lobby button. "Mac!" She said urgently into her microphone. "Seal the building. Have team one meet us at the elevator. We need to evacuate Egret."


"What's going on?" Blair demanded anxiously.


Cam held up one hand to silence her, still speaking to her chief assistant. "There's a package outside Egret's apartment door. Call the bomb squad."


The elevator door slid open and four other agents surrounded them. Cam led the way directly in front of Blair as the group hustled the startled woman across the lobby floor and into a waiting car. Within seconds they were hurrying through the late New Year's Day traffic.


"Clear the civilians from the building," Cam said as she listened to what was happening in the command room on her radio. "Keep them altogether for questioning. I want a list of every person who was in the building within the last week. I'll advise you when we reach the safe house."


The safe house turned out to be a large suite on a top floor of one of the more exclusive hotels in New York City. As soon as they entered, Cam was in communication with Mac once again. Meanwhile, Blair was left to pace in silence in the sitting room. The instant Cam hung up the phone, Blair confronted her.


"Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on?"


"Someone left you a present. Until we find out what, and who, you are not safe at home."


"And I suppose you think I'm going to stay here?" Blair asked incredulously.


"I don't have time to argue with you. Your safety, not your comfort, is what matters at the moment. Once I have some idea of what was in the box, and how someone was able to gain access to the penthouse without our video surveillance cameras picking them up, I can give you some idea of when you can return. The entire security system will need to be revamped, and your apartment needs to be swept."


"What about my work?" Blair asked intently. She couldn't quite keep the tremors from her voice. "All of my work is in my loft. It's protected from fire, but not from a horde of careless Secret Service agents tramping through my apartment."


Cam recalled the stacks of canvases and works in progress that filled over half of Blair's loft space. She realized that the work was irreplaceable, and quite possibly priceless. What she saw in Blair's eyes however was not concern for the material loss, but for the loss of her creations. For an artist to lose their work was the equivalent of anyone else losing a body part.


Cam nodded. "I understand. I'll talk to Mac and make sure that everyone is aware of what's in your apartment. We have to look at everything. There could be almost anything hidden almost anywhere. If someone was able to penetrate our security to leave something outside your door, we have to assume they had access to your apartment as well. I'm sorry. It's the best I can do."


Blair searched Cam's eyes, and found sincerity as well as empathy in the depths of her dark gray eyes. "Thank you," she whispered softly.


"As soon as we have things under control, I'll have someone bring your clothes. Is there anything else you want?"


Blair laughed sarcastically. "A different face? Can you have someone bring me one day of anonymity?"


"How about pizza and a six pack of Corona?"


Blair laughed in spite of herself. "If that's the best you can do Agent Roberts, you are a lousy date. However, considering the limited resources at hand, I'll take it."







Chapter Ten



As it turned out, it was six hours before Cam was satisfied that there was no immediate danger at the apartment building. The plain brown package left in front of Blair's door did not contain a bomb. The dogs sent in to investigate were completely uninterested, and there wasn't anything to excite them in Blair's apartment either. A half a dozen agents had scoured the loft and found no evidence of tampering.


Mac was on his way over with the package and supplies for a few days stay. Cam estimated it would take that long to change all of the locks on the building, recheck all the security clearances of the cleaning crews, maintenance men, and inhabitants of the other apartments, and to review all of the transient visitors to the building for the last week. She hadn't told Blair of the timetable yet, and wasn't looking forward to doing it. Until they had a better idea of exactly what had happened, she couldn't let Blair leave the safe house. Cam already had Mac arranging around the clock coverage. She intended to stay on site for at least the next several days. The suite had two bedrooms, a large sitting area, a bar, and wide screen TV. They would be cramped, but they would all have to manage.


A knock at the door brought her to attention. She crossed the width of the room quickly, reaching into her jacket to release the snap on her shoulder holster. She relaxed as Mac announced his arrival.


"What have you got for me?" she asked immediately.


Mac hefted a shoe-box sized parcel in his hands. "I've got this. Bomb boys and evidence techs are done with it."


"Excellent." She indicated that he join her at the table in the sitting area. Blair appeared at the door of the master bedroom just as Cam was reaching for the parcel. Cam looked over her at her and their eyes met. She read the question that Blair could not bring herself to ask.


"Join us, please," Cam said quietly.


Mac looked at her quickly in surprise. Cam met his gaze steadily but said nothing. Once Blair took the seat to Cam's right, Cam carefully examined the exterior of the package. The only address was Blairs name written in block letters with black magic marker. The paper appeared to be ordinary packing paper sealed with scotch tape. A slight residue of fingerprint powder adhered to everything, inside and out. Cam carefully lifted the tape and removed the paper to reveal a cardboard box. She unfolded the flaps and lifted out a single sheet of paper. She looked at it for a second, then placed it flat on the tabletop so Blair and Mac could read the words printed there.



You are so beautiful.


Why do you waste yourself on those who do not appreciate you?


I know how rare and precious you are.


I can forgive your sins.


I am watching.


I am waiting for your sign.



"Oh Christ," Blair breathed.


"Have Taylor return this to the lab for handwriting analysis and a read out on the paper," Cam said quietly. "We need photo surveillance of the street in front of the apartment building. I want to see any repeaters, any loiterers, and anyone who seems the slightest bit out of place."


"It's a stalker, isn't it?" Blair questioned, hoping there might be another answer.


"I'm afraid so," Cam responded. This was the worst possible news. Stalkers were unpredictable, difficult to identify, and frequently did not have a previous police record. Everywhere Blair Powell went, she would be in potential danger. Cams job had just gotten ten times harder, and considering the difficulties they already had in keeping track of a reluctant subject, the work ahead looked dismal.


"When can I go home?"


"It will be at least a week," Cam said honestly.


"You've got to be kidding," Blair said incredulously.


Cam laughed humorlessly. "I really wish I were."


"Should I get the chief of staff on the line, Commander?" Mac questioned.


Cam sighed. "I'm getting to it. I just wanted to go over the tapes from the video cameras first. Have you got them?"


"Please don't do that," Blair said urgently.


"I have to. You must know that," Cam responded.


"Can't you wait? If you inform the White House, this will be all over the news tomorrow. I'll never have another moments peace."


Cam looked at her across the table. There was something close to pleading in her eyes. She looked over to Mac.


"Could give us a minute here?" Cam asked.


Mac looked as if he wanted to protest, but after a second he stepped out into the hall.


"This is serious. I can't keep something like this from my superiors."


Blair laughed in disbelief. "Don't tell me you're worried about being reprimanded."


"That's not the issue. If this escalates, I may need more help. I'm not willing to jeopardize your safety to protect your privacy."


"We're not talking about myprivacy . We're talking about my private life, and that's what I don't want on the 6 o'clock news."


"Is it really the news you're worried about?"


"Perhaps it isn't. But in the end it's all the same."


Cam shook her head. "Even if I thought it was possible, I wouldn't do it. You haven't exactly made it easy for us to protect you. I simply can't trust you."


"And if you could? If I promised to follow the letter of the law? Would that buy me a few days?"


Cam walked to the windows overlooking Central Park. The decision should have been simple. Protocol demanded that at the first sign of any threat she intensify the security measures around the subject. Not notifying her superiors would certainly place her own position in jeopardy. On the other hand, this was the first time she had even the hint of cooperation from Blair Powell. She would need that corporation if she were to have any chance at all of containing the situation. That made tactical sense, and at least for the moment she had plenty of manpower to stay within the margin of safety. From 20 stories up she watched the horse and buggies winding their way through the lamplit streets of the park. Across the room Blair remained silent, but Cam could feel her gaze on her back. More than that, she could remember the look in her eyes. Blair had been vulnerable, and for a moment, afraid. Cam tried to pretend that didn't affect her decision.


"I'll keep it quiet for now, assuming there are no further threats. At the next sign of contact, I'll have to advise the chief of staff."


Blair relaxed perceptibly. "You've got a deal. Thank you."