The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)(2)

“You were right, I’m afraid.”

“I usually am. What’s this about?” Hammond paced back and forth on the thick Persian carpet his wife had insisted on buying during a two-week cruise a decade earlier.

“Maxwell White,” the man replied. “He’s turning out to be a problem.”

Hammond stopped midstride. A shiver shot up his spine. Among all the potential issues he knew could come his way, this was the one he wished he’d never have to deal with.

“You can’t be serious,” he said. “Maxwell would never turn on us. Besides, there’s no way he could find the evidence,” he said. “I buried it too deep.”

“He’s an intelligence officer,” the man shot back. “And a good one at that.”

“What are you saying?” Hammond asked, light headed.

“He knows about the purge. And about the fact you lied to him about the resolution of CONQUEST.”

“Goddamn it!” Hammond exploded. “This was never supposed to come to that.”

Hammond exhaled loudly, feeling the beginning of a massive headache. “How big a problem do we have on our hands?”

“The kind that requires immediate attention.”

Hammond swallowed hard and squeezed the phone until his arm shook. Unless he intervened on his friend’s behalf, Maxwell White would be dead before sunrise. Hammond was unsure what to say or do. Not a common occurrence for him.

“Is there another way to approach—”

“The decision’s already been made,” the man said, interrupting him. His voice was firm and unwavering. “He tried to send an email containing critical material about CONQUEST to five investigative journalists. All of it very damaging to you. And to me.”

Hammond winced. It was as if he had been gut punched.

“He tried?” he asked. “You intercepted it in time?”

“It never really left his burner phone. As I said, you were right to suggest we keep an eye on him.”

Goddamn you, Maxwell, Hammond thought, shaking his head.

He sighed. “Am I the last one to hear about this?”

“Yes. He’s a friend of yours, Alex,” the man said. “We all know that. We needed to be certain you weren’t aware of his endeavors.”

“I know you wouldn’t have called if you weren’t absolutely sure I wasn’t in on it,” he said, resigned. It felt as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Maybe it was.

“We felt we needed to let you know. As a courtesy, of course,” the man said.

“Of course,” replied Hammond. He heard the gruffness in his voice, as if he had just gargled with nails.

“Krantz is already on his way. He’ll handle everything. You don’t need to worry about a thing. Just do as he says.”

Hammond despised being ordered around, exceptionally so by Krantz. He was about to push back when the man said, “And, Alex, don’t even think about not cooperating with Krantz. Because I won’t hesitate to bring you down too. Not for a second.”

The call disconnected, leaving Hammond gaping at his phone, weighed down by the heaviness in his chest.

What the hell were you thinking, Maxwell?

Hammond had damned himself the moment he’d agreed to participate in CONQUEST. The American lives saved could be counted in hundreds. But now that his former associate had resurfaced, Hammond wasn’t so sure it had all been worth it.

And why didn’t you come to me first?

The phone rang. Hammond stared at it, wondering if he should answer it. There would be no turning back. Whatever he decided to do in the next minute would impact the rest of his life. Hammond sat down behind his desk, afraid his rubbery legs would give out under him.

He answered on the sixth ring.

“I was wondering if you were going to pick up, General. I’m glad you did.”

Hammond instantly recognized the voice. It was as if Abelard Krantz was missing the fundamental frequency of a human’s voice. The normal melody of speech was completely absent.

“Our mutual friend told me you’d be calling.”

There was a weird-sounding chuckle at the other end of the line. “I’m glad you two are still friends. He was actually wondering if you’d be willing to sacrifice Maxwell to save yourself. Good call, General.”

Bastards, Hammond thought.

“What do you need from me?” he asked, doing his best to keep his anger out of his voice.

“His flight plan for tomorrow.”

The muscles in Hammond’s neck tensed. “No way,” he said, thinking about the helicopter’s crew. “You’re not taking down a chopper to get to him. You’ll have to find another approach.”

“There’s no time, General,” Krantz replied. “Give me Maxwell’s flight plan. We both know our mutual friend holds all the cards. Do you really think he’ll leave your precious Heather and Veronica alone if you betray him?”

At the mention of his wife’s and daughter’s names, Hammond felt his body grow rigid. He was about to tell Krantz to go to hell when his eyes settled on the framed family photo that sat at the corner of his desk. His heart faltered.

“One moment,” he replied as he powered on his secure laptop. While his laptop contained its own interface, his access to the information-sharing network would be recorded. That was something he could not afford. It took him a moment to connect to the special communications adapter that had been provided to him by a friend at the NSA. Once plugged in, the adapter ran a self-diagnostic protocol and initiated several software routines aimed at masking his presence. A few keystrokes later, he had Maxwell’s flight plan details on his screen.