"You'll be seen by millions of television viewers in about twenty minutes," Cam pointed out as she took Blair's arm lightly and started to move around to the side of the high temporary stage. "That will have to do."


"Cam," Blair said quietly.


Cam stopped in her tracks at the sound of her name spoken as only Blair could say it.


Blair touched Cam's arm briefly, continuing softly, "He doesn't want to hurt me. If he did, he wouldn't be sending me the messages he's been sending."


Cameron looked over the faces in the immediate vicinity, imprinting each on her mind. She saw Stark and Savard already posted at opposite corners of the stage and Mac in conversation with the Mayor's security chief. She was satisfied that all was as it should be.


Then she looked at Blair, and there were no barriers in her eyes this time. No professional distance, no orders or rules or protocol between them. "I don't know what he's going to do. I don't know when he's going to do it. I don't know nearly enough." She struggled not to touch her, and for the barest of instants, she brushed her fingertips over Blair's hand. "Blair, I just want you safe."


"Yes, I know," Blair responded, no anger or resentment in her voice. She could not argue with the honest caring in Cam's face. It wasn't how she wanted it - it was not what she wanted from her - but it was real nonetheless. "And you've done what needs to be done to ensure that. Now, I need to go and do this."


Cam nodded, knowing she would never be comfortable with it, but accepting that Blair would not let this threat interfere with her life or her responsibilities. "Let's go see the Mayor, then, Ms. Powell. You'll make the photographers a lot happier than he will."


Blair smiled. "Why, thank you, Commander."




Chapter Seventeen

When Blair stepped to the podium, Cam was positioned to the right rear, just a few feet behind her. Stark and Savard were at ground level directly in front of her, and several FBI agent's on loan from the New York office were interspersed in the crowd near the stage.


Mac, coordinating the various teams from the communication van, was linked by radio to Jeremy Finch, the driver of Blair's car; to Ellen Grant, in the second back-up vehicle; and to the Mayor's security chief as well as the NYPD crowd control captain. As it turned out, for that sort of affair, it was proceeding without a hitch. The audiovisual equipment actually functioned; the speakers were keeping to their preplanned schedule; and the hundreds of people scattered about in Sheep Meadow were surprisingly orderly.


Blair had exchanged her running gear for warm up pants and a dry T-shirt in one of the tents, as had Cam and the others, and she looked casually stylish as she faced the mass of onlookers. When she began to speak, the sound of cameras clicking fluttered through the crowd like something alive.


While part of Cam's attention was completely focused on crowd activity in the area within visual range of Blair, another part listened to her speak. She had a beautiful speaking voice, warm and strong and somehow soothing. Cam knew the story, of course. Everyone did. A man could not run for the presidency of the United States and have something as critical as his wife's valiant battle with breast cancer not be a prominent issue during the campaign. This personal tragedy was part of his image, part of his public face, no matter how private the pain. And because her father's life was open to intense scrutiny by virtue of his position, Blair's loss became public knowledge, too. Blair Powell had secrets she guarded, but this was not one of them. To fight this war, she had willingly exposed her deepest anguish. She spoke eloquently, urging lawmakers to allocate funds for treatment and diagnosis, exhorting women to practice vigilance and to be their own best advocates, and, above all, encouraging every person touched by the disease to never lose hope.


Cam thought she was magnificent.


When Blair finished, she turned away from the podium, and Cam stepped immediately to her side, careful not to touch her but walking close beside her toward the rear of the stage and the shelter of some overhead canvas tarps.


"Are you all right?" Cam asked quietly, because she had heard the tears beneath the noble words. Although she had rarely seen Blair shaken, she could sense her fragility now. There were some things that always hurt, no matter how many years had passed. "Can I get you anything? Some water? You were standing in the blazing sun up there for half an hour."


Blair glanced at her, aware of what Cam wasn't saying and grateful to her for not remarking on the fact that she was shaking. "So were you," she pointed out.


"Yes," Cam murmured, passing her a bottle of water, "but I had sunglasses on."


Blair laughed softly. "Well, that explains it. I'm all right, but I'd like to get out of here now."


"Of course." Cam spoke into her microphone quickly. "Egret is flying."


Blair smiled wearily. "Egret is actually dragging, but carry on, Commander."


"Destination?" Cam asked as they moved down the steps and across the field toward the waiting cars parked along the far edge of the grass. The meadow itself was large enough that the vehicles were actually quite a distance away on one of the main roads running north to south through the park. Cam wasn't happy about that, but it was the terrain she'd been given to deal with. Stark and Savard fell in behind them and Mac, upon hearing Cam's announcement, radioed the drivers to prepare for departure. "I'd like to inform the drivers where you need to go."


She asked as casually as she could, and hoped she sounded only professionally interested. She was acutely aware of the fact that Blair had spoken privately to both Diane and Marcy Coleman just before she had joined the other speakers on the stage. Cam assumed that she was making plans for the rest of the day. She had tried hard not to consider the particulars of those plans.


"Home," Blair responded. Diane had invited both her and Marcy over to her apartment for dinner and drinks, but she had decided to pass. It had been a long day and a longer week. She didn't have the energy for conversation or the desire to deal with Marcy's obvious interest. She might have to deal with it soon, but not when she knew her emotional armor would already be breached. She'd need a little time to garner her defenses again.


"That was quite a speech," Cam said as they walked. "They were right to have you give it."


Blair smiled, pleased despite her weariness. "Thank you."


Cam merely nodded, anxious to get Blair into the safety of the waiting car. They were thirty feet from the vehicles, Stark and Savard keeping pace to either side, when they heard someone call out, "Blair!"


Blair looked back over her shoulder, then stopped as Marcy Coleman hurried toward her.This could be awkward, she thought, very conscious of Cam beside her. She didn't want to have a personal conversation with Marcy in front of her. It shouldn't have mattered, and she was well used to ignoring her security guards, just as they were well schooled in appearing totally deaf and blind under such circumstances. She had no doubt that Cam would behave as if nothing were happening, but Blair would know she could hear. She wasn't sure what Marcy would say, or precisely how she herself would respond. Shewas certain that she didn't want to deal with a request for a date, no matter how delicately worded, in front of Cameron Roberts.


"Sorry," Marcy said, suddenly flustered as she looked at the cadre of Secret Service agents loosely ringing Blair. For the first time it was abundantly clear to her just who she had been trying to seduce.Jesus. "Diane told me you weren't coming by later, so I thought I should give you this."


She held out a white envelope, smiling uncertainly when Blair regarded her with a slightly confused expression on her face.


Cam listened with half an ear to the vehicles starting their engines behind them while thinking that the attractive doctor was making a very serious attempt to capture Blair's attention. She tried to tell herself that her annoyance was merely due to the hiccoughing coming from the motor of one of their cars. She'd have to speak to Mac about the maintenance schedule. She couldn't have Egret's vehicle breaking down.


Blair took the envelope and was about to tuck it into her fanny pack when Marcy added, "He said you'd want to look at it right away. That you'd know whom it was from."


Blair faltered, staring from Marcy to the envelope. "He?"


"Wait," Cam ordered sharply, about to reach for it when the significance of the engine's stuttering finally registered. She grabbed Blair, shouting, "Everybody down!" just as the air exploded with heat and thunder.


Blair was momentarily stunned by the noise and shaken by the force of being thrown to the ground. She heard Cam's voice, raw and urgent, as she was suddenly being dragged away by Stark and Savard.


Get her out Get her out GOGOGO!


Blair was too confused and shocked by the sight of the burning car to resist until she saw Cam running not in the direction the other agents were evacuating her, but in the opposite direction, directly toward the inferno.


"No!" Blair cried, struggling to escape the hands that restrained her as the second vehicle careened to a halt beside them and the doors flew open. As Stark pushed her into the back of the car, Blair had only a fleeting glimpse of Cam stepping intentionally into the blaze and reaching for what remained of the door on the flaming wreck.


The she could see nothing, and all she could hear was the wail of sirens and her own silent screams.



Chapter eighteen


The next thing Blair was clearly aware of was the wild rocking of the car as it careened around curves on the narrow twisting road through the park. She could barely breathe because Stark was practically lying on top of her in an attempt to shield her from projectiles directed at the windows.Blair shifted on the seat, pushing Stark none too gently away. She sat up and stared at the two women with her.


"What's happening?" she said urgently.


No one answered her. Stark and Savard, their faces grim,each witha hand to their small earpieces, alternately listened to and then answered their respective colleagues. Stark was rapidly switching frequencies on her transmitter, issuing rapid-fire one-word responses. Blair assumed it was some kind of code concerning their evacuation route or destination, because she couldn't make any sense of it.


"Where is Cam?" Blair demanded, her voice louder, stronger now that she had caught her breath. "Agent Stark, are you talking to her? Is she all right?"


Something about her tone caught Savard's attention. She had been listening with only part of her mind, and when she registered the edge of fear in Blair's voice, she misinterpreted it. "Ms. Powell -- are you injured?"


Blair stared at her, trying to contain her panic and her escalating anger. This was an all too familiar nightmare - a deja vu so horrifyingly real she wanted to grab Savard and shake her. Everyone was focused on protecting her, as if her life were so much more important than everyone else's. It was insane.


She struggled for control amidst the disorientation of being whisked away to some unknown destination while the threat of danger enveloped her like an oppressive, invisible cloak. Even worse than the infuriating helplessness of having no control over her own safety was the terror of knowing that Cam might be hurt - might be seriously injured - and she was not there. Again.


Blair took a deep breath, knowing these women were only doing their jobs, and said again, "Is there any word from Cameron? Is she all right?"


"I don't have any information as to specifics," Stark said, her voice tight with stress but still polite. She hesitated, and against regulations, added, "Emergency medical services are on the scene. I have no word on the extent or nature of casualties."


Blair's stomach clenched, and she fought to quell her rising fear. She held Stark's gaze. "Can you tell me if she's hurt? Can you just tell me that?"