Stark shook her head. "No."

"What do they think it is?"

"I don't know, I—".

"Bullshit," Blair said mildly. "I know you know, because Cam would know. And now, you're Cam."

Stark turned her back to open the plastic bags of clothing, knowing that if Blair continued to study her face, she'd discern the truth. "I haven't heard anything about something like this—"

"Paula," Blair said knowingly, "lying won't work. You're way too obvious. Now tell me what you know."

"I'm not sure—"

"Just tell me what you heard. God damn it, don't leave me in the dark."

With a sigh, Stark dropped onto the side of one bed and unzipped her white coveralls, surprising Blair with her apparent unconcern for her nudity. Blair looked away, sensing that Stark was far more upset than she let on and would be embarrassed later. "What is it, Paula?" Blair questioned gently. "You can tell me. I'll be fine."

Stark pulled the scrub shirt over her head and sighed. "Every morning we get a copy of the Central Intelligence Report—that's the joint release from the CIA and FBI. Yesterday an envelope filled with white powder was delivered to a federal building in New Jersey. They suspect it might be anthrax."

Blair sat slowly on the bed, watching Stark's face carefully "Anthrax. Jesus. Do you think that's what that stuff was in my apartment?"

Stark squeezed her hands between her knees and shook her head. "I don't know. I think that's what these people think, though."

"What do the reports say about it? Just how dangerous is it?"

"It didn't go into detail. It's treatable, they said." Seventy percent mortality rate, they said. Stark indicated the clothing on the bed. "You should change before they come back. It feels better to have real clothes on."

"Yeah. Okay" Swiftly rising, Blair unzipped in the same motion and stepped free of the synthetic coveralls to stand nude by her bed. She ripped open the plastic bags and stepped into the surgical scrub bottoms and then pulled on the top. Barefoot, she stretched out on the bed to wait. If it was what they suspected, things were going to be bad. Very bad. "Paula?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not your fault."

Stark said nothing, unable to take solace in the kindness of what she knew to be a lie.

*

"Is Blair really all right?" Diane asked. She sat next to Valerie on the sofa in her living room where they had sat together barely a day before, but she felt now as if she were sitting beside a stranger. And of course, she was.

"Yes." Valerie swirled the white wine that Diane had poured for her when they'd both agreed upon arriving back at Diane's that a drink would be welcome. Their cab ride had been silent and awkward, just like the lie that hung in the air between them now. She sipped the wine and broke a cardinal rule. "There was a foreign substance in her apartment. We don't know what it is, and she's most likely been placed in isolation until it can be determined."

Diane's fingers tightened on her glass, and she had to consciously force herself to relax her grip. "Like a poison?"

"That's unlikely, since she and the two agents with her appeared to be fine several hours after they were exposed. It's more apt to be an infectious agent of some kind, if it's anything."

"A.. .biological weapon?"

Valerie angled her body to look directly into Diane's face. "Possibly."

"Are you supposed to be telling me this?"

Valerie smiled wryly. "No."

"Right. Well." Diane held Valerie's gaze. "Who are you, Valerie?"

"I work for the government."

"Like Cam?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Is your name really Valerie?"

Valerie nodded.

"Did you come here to seduce me?"

"No. I came here to gather information. That's what I do." She leaned toward Diane, but did not touch her. "I didn't want to seduce you until after I'd been in the gallery for almost five minutes."

A smile played across Diane's mouth. "Oh, that was very smooth."

"And very true," Valerie said quietly. She put her glass down on the coffee table and took Diane's hand, ridiculously grateful when Diane did not pull away. "It wasn't my intention to lie to you. I didn't come here to use you."

"But you would have, if it would' ve gotten you what you needed, right?" Diane asked with an edge in her voice.

Valerie hesitated, then sighed. "Yes. If I'd had to, I would have."

"Do you also have sex with women to get what you want?" Diane stared at Valerie, demanding an answer, and saw the truth in her eyes. "My God. You do. Jesus."

Abruptly, Diane pulled her hand away and stood. She walked rapidly to the far side of the room and stood looking out through the glass doors, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. With her back to Valerie, she said, "How can they ask that of you?"

It wasn't the response that Valerie had expected. She stood, but was afraid to approach. She wanted to touch her, just enough so that she wouldn't feel the ache of loneliness that she'd carried with her since she'd left the apartment the morning before. "It's not so much different than expecting soldiers to put their lives on the line in battle. Everyone risks something."

Diane swirled around. "Would you have slept with me?"

"I wanted to," Valerie said immediately.

"But you didn't."

"Because I couldn't, not until you knew, and I couldn't tell you." Valerie lifted a hand and let it fall, at a loss to explain how desperately she had not wanted Diane to be Cam all over again. "I didn't want to be having this conversation after we'd made love, because I knew...I knew you'd never trust me again."

"What makes you think I'll ever trust you now?"

Valerie closed her eyes for a second, absorbing the blow, then shook her head sadly. "I don't. I just hope that you will."

The silence that followed was worse than any recrimination Diane could have flung at her. Helplessly, Valerie watched Diane hurriedly leave the room, knowing there was nothing she could say to undo the hurt that had been done. She sank back down onto the couch, picked up her wine, and slowly sipped, tasting nothing.

*

"What do you think they've done with Fazio?" Blair asked. "Grau took him in the opposite direction when we got off the helicopter."

"He must be in another unit somewhere," Stark said, picking at the Band-Aid they had placed in the crux of her right elbow after drawing half a dozen vials of blood. "You know, he got the full brunt of whatever that stuff was."

Blair remembered him coughing and swearing and brushing the powder off his shirtfront. Her heart raced furiously, and for a second she felt dizzy. "It'll probably turn out to be nothing."

Stark forced a smile. "Yeah."

"Andrews has been gone half an hour." Blair paced. "How far you think they had to go for the cell phones?"

"Langley?"

Blair stopped, stared at Stark, and then started laughing. Langley— CIA Headquarters. "Probably. Like we're going to give away secrets from inside here." She stopped laughing as abruptly as she had begun and sank back down on the bed. "God, I wish I could talk to Cam."

A shrill noise rilled the room followed by a familiar voice. "Hey."

"Cam?" Blair jumped up and rushed to the glass window as a light came on and illuminated the room on the other side. Cam placed her hand against the glass, and Blair pressed hers to the outline of her lover's palm.

"How are you doing, baby?" Cam asked.

Frantically, Blair looked for the intercom while Stark rose and moved to the far side of the room, giving them a modicum of privacy.

"There's a switch just to the left of the window," Cam instructed.

Blair found it, flipped it, and said, "What took you so long?"

"Heavy traffic."

Smiling, Blair rubbed her fingertips back and forth over the glass as if she were touching Cam's skin, and the illusion of contact made her feel better than she had in hours. "What are they telling you about when we'll get out of here?"

"They're not telling me anything yet, but as soon as I know, you will too. You feeling okay?" Cam tried to keep her tone light, but her stomach clenched as she studied her lover. Blair looked like she usually did when she was steaming. Her eyes were bright, her skin slightly flushed, and her movements quick and tight. Cam realized in that moment just how sexy Blair was when she was angry and understood, too, that it was that very fire that had instantly attracted her to the president's daughter. "Christ, you're beautiful."

Blair grinned. "Be careful, Commander. Stark is here, and you don't want to embarrass her." Blair leaned close to the glass to look into Cam's eyes. When she spoke, she lowered her voice. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I feel fine. We both do."

Cam pressed her hand so hard against the glass her palm was white. She wanted to touch her so badly she hurt inside.

"Cam?" Blair asked quietly, "What's wrong with your finger?"

"What?"

Blair nodded toward the glass. "Your little finger. It's three times its normal size. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Turn your hand over."

"Blair—"

"Let me see it, Cameron."

Reluctantly, Cam complied, repeating hastily when she heard Blair gasp, "It's nothing. It's fine."

"What happened? Sweetheart?" Blair saw Cam's face take on that careful look of consideration she always got when she was about to soften the truth with diplomacy. "And don't try to snow me. That finger is broken, isn't it? What did you do?"

"Ah, hell. I lost my temper and jammed my hand up a little."