The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)
Simon Gervais
PART ONE SIX YEARS AGO
CHAPTER ONE
Bagram Air Base
Afghanistan
Brigadier General Maxwell White pushed his burner phone away and buried his face in his hands. What had started as a minor headache had transformed into a migraine of gigantic proportions. The top of his skull felt as if it had been lodged in a nutcracker and split open. Suddenly nauseous, he pushed himself upright in his chair and leaned back, closing his eyes. He didn’t open them until he was sure the room had stopped spinning.
He reached for the bottle of water beside him and drank half its contents before turning his attention back to the burner phone. He stared at it for a few seconds, fighting the temptation to smash it beneath his combat boots.
Sighing heavily, he grabbed the phone and looked at the screen. His face grew paler as he read one last time the draft email he knew would end his career. Never in a million years had he thought it would come to this, or that he’d find himself on the wrong side of the law. What he was about to do went against everything he stood for. True, it could be argued that he didn’t always play things by the book, but never before had he committed what amounted to treason.
Treason. The word reverberated within him. It made his flesh crawl. It made him feel dirty, unworthy of his rank. Just a week ago, the thought of leaking classified military intelligence to five prolific investigative journalists would have been unconscionable. He had always seen himself as a patriot and a firm believer in the military chain of command. He wasn’t known as a shoot-from-the hip maverick who chucked the rule book in favor of expediency.
But this? This was different. If he had known CONQUEST would have led to such bloodshed, he would have never agreed to go along with it.
History would have plenty to say about the men who’d been complicit in those atrocities. He’d already been silent longer than he should. But if he stood up now, maybe history would treat him more kindly as a whistleblower, even if in the short term it ruined his career and the deepest bonds he’d formed in his military career. It would be so much easier to simply turn a blind eye and keep quiet, but when it came to his country and the American people he had sworn to protect, Maxwell White had never chosen the easy path.
And he wouldn’t start now.
The stakes were too high. This was bigger than him and his career. Not saying anything would mean surrendering the moral high ground of the United States and its people.
He was about to press send when his thoughts switched to his son, Clayton. His whole body stiffened as a new wave of self-doubt burst to the surface. A combat rescue officer with the 57th Rescue Squadron, Clayton was presently deployed in Iraq. There was no doubt in the general’s mind that his son would suffer too. Within days, hours maybe, Captain Clayton White would be pulled from his unit and placed in detention. They would of course release him once they realized he didn’t know anything, but his son’s promising career would be ruined.
It broke Maxwell’s heart to know that his actions would negatively impact his family. His wife, Carolyn, who had remained loyal to him for more than thirty-five years despite his endless deployments, didn’t deserve what was coming. He wished there was another way, an alternative that would see him remain anonymous. But there wasn’t. To be taken seriously, he needed to come out of the shadows. And he couldn’t wait any longer. He had sworn an oath, and if Maxwell White was anything, he was a man of honor. He had to see this through.
“Sorry, Clay,” he said out loud, his finger tapping the send button.
CHAPTER TWO
Fayetteville, North Carolina
Lieutenant General Alexander Hammond wasn’t fast enough. Still suffused with sleep and reluctant to remove himself from a lingering dream that found him cycling the majestic mountains of Andorra with his wife and daughter, he was unable to silence his phone before it woke up his wife. Heather stirred uneasily beside him, a groan escaping her lips. Hammond pulled back the duvet and reached for the damnable instrument. He accepted the call but didn’t speak until he’d left the bedroom and closed the door behind him.
“Hammond,” he said into the receiver.
“We need to talk, Alex. Is this line secured at your end?”
Hammond recognized the voice and became instantly alert. “It’s not. I’ll call you right back,” he said before ending the call.
He went downstairs and stopped by the kitchen on his way to his study. He turned on the coffee maker. He had a feeling he wasn’t going back to bed anytime soon and would need the caffeine jolt. In his office, he switched on the desk light and put on his glasses. He then went to his personal safe, which was hidden behind a framed painting of his daughter. He entered an eight-digit code on the keypad. The safe contained stacks of bills in various denominations and currencies, a 9 mm pistol with three spare magazines, and an encrypted phone.
Hammond powered up the device and punched in a number he hadn’t dialed in more than six months.
“Thanks for calling me back so rapidly,” the man said by way of greeting, a faint British accent coloring his voice.
“I’m secure on my end. What’s up?” Hammond asked, his heartbeat faster than usual, knowing nothing good could possibly come from this middle-of-the-night phone call. Especially with this man.