"I'll see what our field agents have to say about the temperature in Paris," Valerie said quietly as everyone at the table grew still. "It's not normally a hot area for terrorist cells, but now? Who knows."

"Nothing happened in Paris last month," Felicia pointed out, referring to Blair's recent goodwill visit to the French capital.

"No," Cam said, her tone hard-edged. "Nothing that we know about." She stood abruptly and crossed the room to the windows overlooking the dune path. She balled her fists and shoved them into her pants pockets, because she wanted to break something. Foster could have been coordinating the attack on Blair for months, probably had been, right under her nose. She'd worked with the man, trusted Blair's life to him every day, and the entire time he had been plotting to assassinate her. If she had him in front of her now, she would kill him all over again. She turned back to the team, her expression carefully neutral, and sat down again.

"Pull his vouchers from last month. Maybe he got sloppy and included something that wasn't job-related in Paris. A cab ride, phone calls, anything at all. Track it all down."

Felicia nodded and made a note. "We've pretty much exhausted the deep background check on him, Commander. He's the first of two children, both boys. His father, now deceased, was a Navy fighter pilot in Vietnam. Mother a housewife. Raised in North Carolina, educated in the South as well. No criminal record, no reprimands in his file, no red flags anywhere." With a grimace, she closed the slim file. "Like I said, the all-American boy."

"You're missing something," Cam said quietly, with no hint of criticism. "Because he's not the all-American boy. All-American boys may be the privileged class, and they may sometimes be racists and homophobes, but they still don't associate with terrorists. And they don't try to assassinate the president's daughter." She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She thought about Foster, the perfect Secret Service agent. Smart, well-bred, a patriot. And somehow twisted and misguided. What was it that turned a man into something like that. "How old was he when his father died?"

"Uh..." Felicia scrambled with the paperwork.

Savard spoke first. "Almost nine."

"Start there."

"Commander?" Felicia asked uncertainly.

Cam opened her eyes and sat forward. "Find out what, or who; made Foster the man he became." She stood. "Keep looking at the patriot groups. Look back through Egret's files—maybe one of these guys, or one of these groups, sent her a threatening message in the past. Hell, maybe she turned one of these guys down for a date. Get me something."

"Yes, ma'am," Felicia said smartly, echoed by Savard.

When Cam left the room, Savard turned to Valerie. "I'd like you to work on the Paris end of things. Your people have a far deeper reach internationally than we do."

"Certainly."

Savard hesitated, then said, "I'm glad you're working with us, despite the bad blood between your agency and mine. You just need to understand that for us"—she indicated Felicia with a sweep of her hand—"this is personal."

"I understand perfectly, Agent Savard," Valerie replied. "It's very personal for me too."

"Good," Savard said, resuming command with the feeling that her world had settled into place. "Then let's get to work."

*

Stark shot to her feet when Cam walked into the kitchen. She'd been waiting for her, knowing that Cam had gone to brief the investigative team. Her coffee sat growing cold in front of her. She'd been rehearsing her speech and had forgotten to drink it.

"Commander, when you have time, I'd like to discuss the transition—"

"You've got Hara and Wozinski.. .and me, of course." Cam walked to the stove and put her palm on the coffeepot. It was warm. As she grabbed a ceramic mug from a stack on the dish drainer and poured herself a cup, she said, "Plus six of Whitley's private forces. All ex-military police, all very good." She turned and rested her back against the counter, sipping her coffee. "Good to have you back, Stark."

"Thank you, Commander. Is there anything in particular I should know?"

"Business as usual. Except no one is given this location. Not FBI, not Secret Service, not the White House security chief. They have one number. Mine. And that's the way it's going to stay. Anyone needs transportation on or off the island, come to me. I'll arrange it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"It's not about not trusting you, Stark. It's about limiting any access to her."

"I understand that." Stark weighed her words carefully. "The team needs to know that only one person will be giving the orders, Commander."

A moment passed. Cam lifted a shoulder. "And that would be you."

"Thank you."

"Just know that if she's ever in danger, it will be me standing in front of her."

Stark shook her head. "Only if I'm down. You owe it to her not to be the one. Respectfully, ma'am."

Again Cam was silent, her gaze distant. Then she refocused on Stark. "All right, Chief. From now on, I'd like you to sit in on the investigative briefings."

"I'll be there."

"Diane is here, in case you haven't seen her yet. She and Blair have stayed pretty close to the house, and so far it's not been a problem. The beach is secure, but they need to be accompanied. Blair doesn't like it, but—"

From the kitchen doorway, Blair finished, "She doesn't have anything to say about it. Per usual." In a baggy faded blue FBI T-shirt and red-checked boxers that came to mid-thigh, she padded barefoot across the kitchen, paused to squeeze Stark's arm in way of greeting, and made for the coffeepot. She put her palm in the center of Cam's chest and leaned into her for a quick kiss. "Good morning, darling."

Cam grinned. "Hi."

"Please feel free to keep talking about me," Blair said after pouring her coffee. "I'm used to it."

Cam slung an arm around Blair's shoulders, "I think we're probably done with that now."

"Uh-huh." Blair smiled at Stark. "You have a sunburn. Did you have fun?"

"Uh..."

"You are allowed to have fun, Paula," Blair said. "Yon were on vacation."

"It was good. It was great."

"How's Renee?"

Stark glanced at Cam. "She's good. She's fine."

"I think everyone's getting their legs back under them," Cam said mildly. She kissed Blair's temple. "I've got some calls to make. Can I interest you in a walk after that?"

"Sure. I won't be long." Blair waited until Cam had left the room. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable asking about Renee in front of Cam."

Stark shook her head. "No, it's okay. I'm just getting used to the commander.. .well, not exactly being the commander."

Blair laughed. "Paula. Cam will always be Cam, no matter what you call her."

"Yeah, I know."

"Is that a big problem for you?"

"No, not really. It would be silly of me not to take advantage of everything she knows."

"That's a very mature view," Blair said with a grin.

Stark grinned back. "Yeah, I thought so too. But you know, wherever you're going to be, she's going to be. And, well...she's always going to have a say in how we protect you."

"Well," Blair set her mug down on the counter behind her, "I'm glad it's you that took her place."

"Thank you very much. I'm honored."

"I know. I don't understand it, I never have, and I never will. But I believe you." Blair sighed. "Is Renee really doing okay?"

"I think so. She's not having nightmares, at least she hasn't the last few nights,"

"How about you?"

Stark looked puzzled. "Me?"

"I was kind of thinking of the anthrax thing," Blair said mildly.

"Oh. That." Stark took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't think about it."

Blair grinned. "Me neither. But I feel okay. You?"

"Fine. Have you heard anything more about Fazio?"

"He's still hospitalized, but responding to therapy. He's going to be okay."

"Man, that's good," Stark said.

"Mac is doing well too. In fact, Cam spoke with him this morning, and he told her they're releasing him in two days."

Starks face lit up. "Yeah? It won't be long before we have the whole team togeth..." She fell silent, thinking about Cynthia. And Foster. She met Blair's gaze. "Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?"

"No," Blair said quietly. "But things never are. We'll all be okay." On her way out of the kitchen, she patted Stark's shoulder. "I'll be going for a walk on the beach with my lover in approximately half an hour, Chief. If you'd like to follow me."

Stark hid her smile. "Yes, ma'am."

Chapter Twenty-Six

Thursday, September 27

I can't believe you held on to the ace of trump until now," Blair said, tossing down her cards in disgust. "Honestly, Paula, do you think I'm a mind reader?"

"Uh...I thought I was supposed to wait until I could take more points." Stark's face was a study in consternation.

"Not from me. Not when I'm your partner." Blair stood abruptly, her chair nearly tipping over as she pushed it back. Everyone at the table flinched. "What exactly do you all do at that training facility of yours when you have spare time? Because God knows, every last one of you is a lousy card player."

"Well," Stark replied with a completely straight face, "we spend a lot of time cleaning our guns."

Blair's eyes narrowed as Diane and Hara tried desperately not to laugh. "You just might become the security chief with the shortest tenure ever."

"Maybe we could work out hand signals or something—"