“You’re right. I did see Valerie. She was at The White House today.” Diane smiled fleetingly at Cam’s look of consternation. “It’s a boutique in Georgetown. We talked for a few minutes.”

“Did she say where she was staying?”

Diane shook her head.

“Phone number?”

Again, Diane shook her head.

“Did she say why she’s hiding?”

“No. But I got the distinct impression that she was in trouble, serious trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

Diane picked at the corner of the book in her lap, recalling Valerie’s haunted look and the way she’d reacted when the stranger came into the stairwell. When she met Cam’s calm gaze hers was cut through with anguish. “She acted as if someone was going to hurt her.”

“I need to talk to her. You need to tell her that. Tell her if she meets with me, she can walk away no matter what she tells me.”

“Do you really think she betrayed you? Or our country? After helping you in the first place?” Diane’s voice trembled and she looked away, biting her lip. “How can you think that when you’ve held her?”

Cam’s stomach churned, and for an instant she remembered the dark nights that might have been endless if it hadn’t been for Valerie. Claire, as she knew her then. Claire’s tenderness and her uncanny ability to absolve guilt without demanding explanations had kept her together when everything inside was breaking.

“They recruited her when she was a teenager,” Cam said. “Part of the indoctrination is to isolate the recruits from everyone outside the system. Family, friends, everyone. Your handler becomes your primary point of contact for everything—he or she becomes your emotional and physical touchstone. Sometimes no one else even knows your name. Soon you forget you ever had another life.”

“What are you saying?” Diane’s expression verged on horror. “That she’s been brainwashed?”

“No, only that she’s been trained—relentlessly and expertly conditioned—to follow orders without question. How else do you think a woman like Valerie could have done the things she’s done in the name of her country?”

“She didn’t make love to you for her country.”

Cam flinched but kept her eyes level on Diane’s. “Maybe not after the first time.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just so worried about her.” Diane pushed her hair back from her face with an unsteady hand. “And I know that she needs your help or something terrible is going to happen to her. Please, Cam. Don’t abandon her.”

“I want to find her,” Cam said vehemently. She leaned forward, her hand flat on the bed next to Diane’s ankle. “Until we get the real people behind the attack on Blair at the Aerie, Valerie is in danger. And if Valerie is in danger, so are you—and so is Blair.”

“Blair isn’t in danger if I’m not with her.” Diane swung her legs off the bed and jumped to her feet. “I’ll leave now.”

Cam rose and caught Diane’s shoulders as she rushed toward the closet. “No. You’re staying with us.”

Diane spun around to face Cam and tried to push her away. “Let me go.”

“Diane.” Cam ignored the screaming pain in her shoulder as Diane fought her. “You’re not alone. And neither is she.”

“Oh,” Diane gasped, tears filling her eyes. “I’m so frightened.”

Cam gathered her close, stroking Diane’s hair as Diane buried her face against her shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

After a moment of silent sobs, Diane leaned away from Cam and brushed at her cheeks. Shakily, she said, “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like for you to hold me.”

“Overrated, probably.”

Diane smiled. “No.”

Cam eased her grip and stepped back. “If she calls you, tell her I’ll bring you to her. Tell her…tell her to go to the first place she and I met.”

“Why? Why would you do that? It has to be breaking some kind of rule or other.”

“There are no rules anymore, Diane.”

“I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

Diane wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh God, what if she doesn’t call me? What if she doesn’t trust me?”

Cam paused at the door. “If she risked exposure today to see you, she’ll call, and soon. Give her my message. And then come and get me.”

“Do you really think Valerie’s going to call her?” Blair asked after Cam described the conversation.

“I do. Probably tonight.” Cam unzipped her jeans and pushed them down over her hips, letting them fall to the floor. She sat on the side of the bed and unbuttoned her shirt. Blair, in a threadbare T-shirt, was already under the covers.

“If she does, you’re not going,” Blair said, lifting the sheets.

Cam slipped underneath with a sigh. Turning onto her uninjured left side, she pillowed her head against her bent arm and smiled tiredly at Blair. “Let’s get some sleep, baby.”

Blair caressed Cam’s cheek. “Yes. You need it. And you’re still not going out if she calls.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. And you’re still not going.”

“If I don’t, Diane is either going to try to get to her herself, or Valerie’s going to risk another rendezvous with Diane. Either way, they’ll both be vulnerable if Valerie is a target.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

Cam smiled. “I know. I do it just to make you crazy.”

Blair kissed her. “It’s working.” She slid an arm beneath Cam’s shoulder and drew her closer, pillowing Cam’s head against her breast. “How are you feeling?”

“Not that bad. The ibuprofen finally kicked in.”

“Why can’t Valerie come here?”

“Because you’re here,” Cam mumbled. “Too hard to secure.”

“Why can’t she come to Whitley Point?”

“What?” Cam said, her mind fuzzy with near sleep.

“You said yourself Whitley Point is going to be far easier to defend.”

Blair waited in the silence, caressing Cam’s neck and shoulders. Eventually when she realized Cam was asleep, she turned off the light and closed her eyes. She drifted on the border between sleep and consciousness, some part of her needing to feel Cam in her arms, to know that she was safe. A knock sounded on the door, and she reluctantly slid from bed, uncertain how long she’d been asleep. When Cam did not wake up, Blair knew just how much the accident had taken out of her. She crossed the room stealthily and opened the door a crack.

“I’m sorry,” Diane whispered from the hall. “I’m sorry, but I need to talk to Cam.”

“Scotch, please,” Cam said as she eased onto a stool at the far end of the highly-polished mahogany bar in the nearly deserted Four Seasons Hotel lounge, just before 1:00 a.m. She was as certain as she could be that she hadn’t been followed. Assuming that someone was watching her building, she had left by the rear service doors and walked to the nearest Metro stop. En route, she’d checked carefully for a tail and saw no indication of one, but while she waited for her drink, she scanned the room.

At first glance, the area appeared secure. Three business types, two men and a woman, sat around a cocktail table near the windows discussing market shares and margins just loudly enough for her to catch snippets of their conversation. A lone man in a rumpled suit talked on a cell phone while he peered at a laptop computer and tapped frantically on the keyboard with his free hand. A fortyish woman in jeans and a sweater sat hunched at the opposite end of the bar, scribbling in a notebook and sipping absently from a glass of white wine.

Cam, intending to appear like a late-night business traveler, had dressed in a cotton shirt and lightweight wool trousers beneath a casual leather jacket and had exchanged her usual shoulder harness for a hip holster. She nursed her Scotch and waited fifteen minutes before calling the bartender over.

“You know, I must’ve gotten my signals crossed. I just got in from the airport and I was supposed to meet a colleague here. We’ve got a big meeting in the morning…”

“A lot of people come through here,” the stocky bartender said.

“We’ve never actually met in person. Only on the phone,” Cam said, as reluctant to give a description as he was to disclose anything about patrons. She patted her pockets as if looking for something. “Hell, maybe I got the time wrong. I thought for sure Claire said—”

“Claire.” The bartender smiled. “Yeah, she was here for a couple of minutes, but left when you didn’t show. She said if anyone came looking, to tell them room 418.”

“Thanks.” Cam dropped a ten dollar bill on the bar as she rose. “You saved me a lot of embarrassment in the morning.”

She took her time walking to the elevators, once again covertly observing those around her. Satisfied that no one was watching, she rode to the conference level and stepped off. She couldn’t access the room floors without a keycard and hadn’t planned to anyway. As expected, the foyer was empty in the middle of the night. She picked up a house phone and dialed 836.

“I’m here. Third floor.”

“I’ll come down.”

Two minutes later the elevator stopped and Valerie stepped off. She immediately pushed the up button, shaking her head in irritation as if she’d forgotten something. She did not look at Cam, who stood nearby. An up-elevator stopped and they both stepped into the empty car. Valerie, in narrow, low heeled black boots, a black boatneck sweater with a wide band at the waist, and flaring black silk slacks, looked very much as she had the first time Cam had seen her. Her hair was shorter and, rather than platinum blond, was now shot through with red highlights. Her elegant near-patrician features were strained.

The door opened on the eighth floor and Cam followed Valerie to room 836. Once inside, Cam removed her leather jacket and laid it over the back of the antique desk chair. The room was typical for the Four Seasons, with a king size bed and a formal sitting area complete with sofa, end tables, coffee table, and a minibar.