Radclyffe - Oath of Honor

Andrew. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Cam rolled her shoulders, blew out a breath. “One of the

technicians with regular access to a missing biocontagion at a Level

Four lab outside Atlanta is from Idaho. Went to a Christian college

there. So did Lieutenant Jennifer Pattee.”

“So you think they might know each other?” Lucinda struggled to

see a connection.

“On the surface—no. There’s a six-year age difference, which

means they weren’t in college at the same time.”

“Hometowns?”

“According to records, not the same.”

“What do you mean, according to the records? You don’t believe

the records?”

“Here’s the thing that made me look harder at the two of them—

they were both homeschooled before college.”

Lucinda paced around her desk. “Not so unusual in Idaho.”

“No—but another point of intersection and another point of

commonality. So I looked a little bit deeper—parents, siblings, other

possible connectors. And I didn’t find anything.”

“You’re right, that’s not much,” Lucinda said, disappointment

sitting like a hard weight on her chest.

“No, what I mean is, I didn’t find anything. Their families are off

the grid.”

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“No record of their parents or sibs?”

“None. For homeschooled kids to go to college, they have to show

GED or equivalent scores, SAT scores, and a personal affidavit.” Cam

slid her hands into her pockets, rocked on her heels. “That’s the starting

point for colleges, the beginning of a paper trail. But there’s no road

leading back to any place I can find.”

“Are you postulating we’re dealing with a domestic sleeper cell?

Americans raised to carry out some long-range act of terrorism?”

Cam sighed. “I think so—yes.”

“It’s pretty coincidental, but I agree, there might be something

there.” Lucinda shook her head. “What do you advise?”

“We need to put someone on her. We need to know more about

her, and we may not have a lot of time.”

“Put agents on her.”

“That’s my plan.”

“One of Blair’s?”

“I was thinking we could pair one from PPD and one from Blair’s

detail. An insider who won’t be obvious to the lieutenant, and one she

doesn’t know.” Cam grinned, a chilling, predatory grin. “One might be

a distraction and she’ll miss the other.”

“Fine, do that.”

Cam regarded Lucinda steadily. “I wouldn’t ordinarily suggest

this, but I don’t know what kind of timetable we’re working with

here. If there is any potential for a bioterrorist attack using the missing

specimen, it’s likely to be soon. We need as many eyes on this as we

can get.”

“What else?” Lucinda asked.

“Captain Masters seems to think Jennifer Pattee expressed more

than a professional interest in her. Masters might be the best person to

give us early warning.”

“She’s not a trained agent.”

“No, but she’s a navy captain. She’s smart, she’s steady. We use

what we have.”

“Individuals like this—extremists, fanatics—their goal is to make

a point, no matter the cost. If we thwart their operation, they may opt to

make an even bigger statement.”

“I know. And that’s a risk—and if what I suspect about Pattee

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is right, and she realizes we suspect her, she could become volatile,

unstable. That’s a recipe for disaster, but I think we have to take the

chance.”

Lucinda nodded. “It has to be voluntary. The captain has to

agree—I won’t order her to do this.”

“Do you think you’d have to?”

“No, I don’t think we need to order her. Will you see to it?”

Cam nodded sharply. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

“And, Cam, I know this will be difficult, but don’t bring Blair in

on this right now. We need to keep her at a safe distance.”

Cam’s jaw tightened. “She might not forgive us for that.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“She’s mine to worry about.” Cam walked to the door. “And mine

to protect. Good night.”

“Good night, Cam.” Once the door closed, Lucinda sagged behind

her desk and pressed her fingertips to her eyes. She picked up her phone

and made a call. “I’m sorry, were you sleeping? I need to see you. No,

I’ll come there.”

Lucinda turned out the lights and stepped outside through the

French doors and started for the residence. She thought of all those

who would sacrifice everything to serve and protect, and of how many

times she had asked for that sacrifice. More times than she could count,

and probably many more to come.

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chapter twenty-eight

At 0430, Evyn got the text from Cameron Roberts telling her

she needed to be at a briefing at 0600. She’d been asleep an

hour. When she got home from Wes’s, she was still wired, her body

still humming. She’d come out of her mind with Wes barely touching

her, but the orgasm was already a distant memory and her body craved

more. More of Wes. Adrenaline, that’s all it was. When she got amped

up during a tense training exercise or something heated up out in the

field, she always got a sexual buzz. That’s all it was. Adrenaline.

Whatever she called it, the burn in her blood was enough to keep

her up channel surfing, with Ricochet sitting nearby, watching her

warily. He didn’t seem to trust her mood, because he wasn’t in her lap

or draped around her shoulders, where he usually perched while she

chilled out. He was probably smart not to get too close because she

wasn’t chilling out. She was too uncomfortable in her skin to unwind.

She finished the one beer she allowed herself, but it didn’t settle her

enough to sleep. Finally, exhaustion won out and she stretched out

where she was on the couch and fell asleep in her clothes. She dreamed

of running through a tangled forest, breathless, lost, pursued by a

faceless menace coming ever closer. Roberts’s text had awakened her,

saving her from what she feared she might find—the pursuer was her

and she was running from herself.

Now, after a quick shower and two shots of espresso, she was

walking through the West Wing in her least wrinkled pair of black

trousers and her last pressed white shirt. Staffers hurried by, already

looking harried. She settled in the briefing room. There wasn’t any

coffee—must have been a very hastily assembled meeting. A minute

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later the door opened and Paula Stark walked in followed by a young

agent she recognized from Blair Powell’s detail, but didn’t know

personally.

“Hey,” Evyn said, nodding to Paula. Their details often overlapped

when the first daughter was traveling with POTUS. She liked Stark—

she was on top of things without being super territorial.

“Hi, Evyn. This is Randy Block.”

Evyn leaned over the table to shake hands with the new guy. “How

you doing.”

“Fine. Good to meet you.” Block looked like a typical college

jock—fair-haired, blue-eyed, strong jaw, good shoulders. A lot like

Gary, a wholesome, all-American guy. She wondered what was going

on and if Stark knew something she didn’t. But she wasn’t about to

ask. The door opened again and she expected Tom to walk in. She

barely managed to keep quiet when Wes sat down across the table from

her. “Morning,” Wes said, glancing around the table. She was wearing

charcoal pants, a crisp pale blue shirt open at the throat, and a matte

silver bracelet on her right wrist with some kind of intertwining pattern,

subtle, understated. Sexy. Her gaze passed over Evyn’s face in the same

friendly but distant fashion in which she regarded everyone else in the

room.At precisely 0600, Cameron Roberts walked in. “Morning,

everyone. Thanks for getting here on such short notice. I think the only

one needing introductions is Captain Masters, the new chief of the

White House Medical Unit.”

Stark and Block introduced themselves to Wes and they all shook

hands. Evyn wondered why Tom wasn’t there.

“This is need-to-know,” Roberts said as if reading her mind, “and

I won’t be giving you much in the way of details.”

Evyn sat still, keeping her shoulders relaxed, preventing the

tension curling around her spine from showing in her face or body.

She’d learned years ago to school herself, to never give away anything,

but it was hard with Wes only a few feet away. She had what she

wanted—an impersonal, cordial working relationship, and she hated it.

She hated that Wes would walk into a room and not seek her out first,

not connect with her in a way she didn’t connect with others. What the

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fuck was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she be satisfied with the way

things had always been? Why did she want things now that she’d never

wanted before? Why did Wes Masters make her yearn?

Wes looked over at her as if she had been broadcasting her

thoughts, and Evyn quickly looked away. She wasn’t certain she could

hide what she was feeling from Wes, and she didn’t want her to know

she regretted the night before. She regretted walking out. She regretted

letting Wes think she could walk away without bleeding inside.

“We need surveillance on an individual we suspect might have ties

to a domestic terrorist group that is planning an attack on POTUS.”

None of the agents moved, but the air suddenly vibrated. Evyn’s

skin tingled and her heart rate had picked up. Her groin tightened as

her senses went to full alert. Wes hadn’t moved either, and she seemed

completely composed. Why was she here? This was a security matter.

“We suspect the individual may have access to a biocontagion or

may be a contact for someone else who does. This is where Dr. Masters

comes in.”

The muscles at the angles of Evyn’s jaws clenched, and she had to

force her teeth not to grind. What was this about? Wes wasn’t trained

for this.

“The individual in question is Lieutenant Jennifer Pattee, a

member of the White House Medical Unit.” Roberts opened her

laptop and brought up an image of a woman who looked enough like

Jennifer Pattee to be her sister. “We have reason to believe she may

have connections to this woman—Angela Jones, although we doubt

that’s her given name. Jones is an employee of Eugen Corp, a private

laboratory doing viral gene research. They’ve reported an inventory

discrepancy in their Level Four lab which we believe may actually be

a stolen specimen.”

“The nature of the specimen?” Wes asked.

“Our understanding is it’s an engineered virus—a mutant form of

an avian flu virus.”

“What do we know of its properties?”

“Not very much,” Roberts said. “The lead investigators are

stonewalling us because their work is preliminary and unreported at this

point. They don’t want information being disseminated prematurely,

but the transformed avian virus is apparently much more highly

transmissible than the natural avian virus.”

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“That’s a problem,” Wes said. “The avian flu virus has a high

mortality rate, but it is not easily transmissible between fowl and

humans, and not transmissible from one human to another.”

Roberts nodded, her expression grave. “They won’t come out and

admit to this, but we believe this variant has been aerosolized and is

transmissible between humans.”

Wes frowned. “Then you have an agent with the potential to kill

vast numbers of individuals.”

Evyn shook her head. “This seems pretty complex for an

assassination plot.”

“On the surface, yes,” Roberts said. “There are faster and more

direct ways, none of which we need to enumerate here. But while

assassination by gunfire is horrifying and dramatic, the public doesn’t

see a single act of violence as a personal threat. However, the release

of a biological agent capable of killing scores or even more places the

danger directly on the public itself. People will be terrified.”

“And consequently,” Paula Stark said softly, “the government will

be distrusted and destabilized.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t know the lieutenant very well,” Wes said. “I can’t say that

I’ve seen any particularly suspicious behavior from her.”

“Nor would we expect you would have.” Roberts clicked off the

computer and pushed it aside. She addressed Wes directly. “If what we

believe is true, these individuals have been trained since childhood to

carry out specific acts of terrorism after achieving positions of power

and trust. If indeed the lieutenant is part of this conspiracy, she’s not

going to reveal anything or do anything suspect until the attack itself is

set in motion.”

“What’s the goal of surveillance?” Evyn asked.

“We need to intercept her when she receives the agent. Failing

that, then we have to prevent the release of the contagion.”

“I can adjust our schedules so I’m on duty with Lieutenant Pattee,”

Wes said. “Of course, that’s only going to be ten or twelve hours a

day.”“Yes, do that,” Roberts said. “In addition, Captain, given that

the lieutenant has expressed a personal interest, you might be able to

observe her in less guarded circumstances.”

“What?” Evyn stood before she could stop herself. She looked

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from Roberts to Wes and then back to Roberts. “The captain isn’t

trained for undercover work, which is essentially what you’re asking

her to do. Whatever information she might gain isn’t worth the risk to