The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)(40)

White rapidly cleared the sleek and modern office, including the large conference room enclosed by three floor-to-ceiling glass panels. Deeper into the office space, there was a solid wood door with an electric lock controlled by a keypad. White guessed this was where the servers were located.

Damn it, he thought. Veronica was right to worry.

White returned to where the bodies lay and holstered his revolver. He took his phone and dialed 911 to report the incident. He identified himself to the dispatcher and also informed her that there were two armed CID agents in a government sedan parked in front of the building. After he hung up, White crouched next to the man he had tripped over and frisked him. He found a SIG Sauer P228 pistol, a smartphone, and a black wallet.

White opened the wallet and did a double take. It contained a military identification card and a CID special agent badge. He then looked at the smartphone.

GIRDNER—4 MISSED CALLS.

What the fuck’s going on?

White swiped up, but a numeric keypad appeared on the screen. The phone was locked. Without thinking, he pocketed the dead agent’s phone. He was about to move to the next body when the door behind opened and Ashby and Folsom appeared, their guns pointed right at him.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


Palo Alto, California

White slowly raised his hands over his head, his mind racing. Were Ashby and Folsom in on it too? With his .38 snub-nose revolver safely tucked inside his ankle holster, there was no way for him to draw it before being shot dead.

“Step away from them, Clayton, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you in the face,” Ashby said.

White obeyed and took a few steps back. He slowly turned fully toward the two CID agents. They looked sick and distraught, and not sure about what to do next.

“What happened here?” Folsom asked, his eyes bouncing between White and the dead men. “Please tell me you didn’t do this.”

“Listen to me really carefully, guys,” White said, making absolutely sure not to make any sudden movement. It was easy to see that the two CID agents were on the edge. It wouldn’t take much for them to shoot him by mistake. “I found the three of them exactly like this. They were dead when I came in.”

“Do you know who they are? Have you seen them before?” Ashby asked, his pistol still pointed at White’s torso.

“I’ve never seen them before. I have no idea who they are,” he lied.

White almost asked Ashby if he knew them, since they were CID. But he kept his mouth shut.

“Call the police,” Ashby said to Folsom. “Tell them we’re at the—”

“I’ve already called the police,” White said. “And if you pay attention, you’ll hear the sirens.”

There were indeed police sirens in the background. Lots of them.

Ashby and Folsom holstered their pistols, which, combined with the fact that they had themselves suggested calling the authorities, told White they truly had no idea what had happened here. He brought down his hands.

“How did you know to come here?” Ashby asked.

“As I said, this is the company Veronica Hammond works with. I just thought I’d check it out.”

“So, this is definitely connected to the attack at the Ritz,” Folsom said. “It has to be.”

White didn’t reply directly; instead, he asked if he could go outside to let the city cops know where to go.

“I’ll come down with you,” Ashby offered. “Tim’s gonna stay here to secure the scene.”

Folsom gave him a thumbs-up.

White and Ashby remained silent as they rode down the elevator. White still couldn’t believe that the three dead men were CID agents. There were no scenarios in which that made sense.

Then he remembered the smartphone in his pocket, and he realized that wasn’t entirely true.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


Twenty-four thousand feet over New Mexico

Alexander Hammond fought to keep his calm in front of the five members of his protective detail who had boarded the small government jet with him, but the effort required was immense. He had to keep his mind clear. There were a lot of moving pieces to juggle. The attack on his daughter had stunned him. He hadn’t seen it coming. At all.

And up until he had boarded the plane and received a call from General Tom Girdner, he had no idea who had been behind the attempt on her life. Girdner’s call had changed all that. Expecting a brief account of the off-the-book operation he had asked Girdner to take care of after his failed talk with Veronica, the provost marshal general’s report had shocked Hammond to his very core. The three CID agents Girdner had tasked with setting fire to the SkyCU Technology office had been killed before they could execute their plan.

And, of all people, it was Clayton White who had found their bodies.

Hadn’t Hammond asked Girdner to pick White up and bring him to a hotel? What was White doing at SkyCU in the first place?

Hammond took a deep breath, but it did very little to calm his nerves. How could the easiest of tasks have turned into a goddamn train wreck? Hammond didn’t much believe in coincidences. Someone had beaten him to the punch in Palo Alto. Someone whose goal was the same as Hammond’s, but who was willing to go even further to achieve it. There weren’t that many people who had so much to lose that they would benefit from Veronica’s death and the demise of the start-up she was associated with. In fact, he could think of only two.