The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)(41)

Himself. And Roy Oxley.

That cockroach of a man has everything he needs to take me down, and that includes what I did to Maxwell White, Hammond thought. And that can’t stand.

Hammond’s past was catching up to him, and if he didn’t act quickly and decisively, it would engulf him and torpedo his vice presidency before it had even started. Even worse, there was nothing guaranteeing that Oxley wouldn’t have another go at Veronica. That meant Hammond had to crush Oxley first. It was a question of survival.

And what about Clayton White? What the hell was he thinking, proposing to Veronica while on duty? It was so unlike White to have acted this way it blew Hammond’s mind.

White was arguably one of the best special agents ever to work for the Secret Service; he had Maxwell’s sense of dedication and single-mindedness. If anyone but White had been inside the room with his daughter when the intruders barged in, Hammond and his wife would be planning Veronica’s funeral.

Nevertheless, he was going to let the inquiry into White’s behavior run its course. He wouldn’t intervene. And, contrary to what he had told his daughter, it wasn’t because he couldn’t or didn’t want to. It was because having White on administrative leave suited his purpose perfectly.

The fact was, Hammond needed White’s services—and he wouldn’t be able to use him if he was under the authority of the Secret Service. Vice president-elect or not, there was only so much he could do without arousing suspicion. He wasn’t the commanding officer of JSOC anymore. His soon-to-be position as vice president, although in theory more powerful and influential, didn’t allow him the same flexibility. He would have to get used to that.

He was confident White still had no idea that his father’s death was anything more than it had appeared at the time, and that was something Hammond could use to his advantage now. Still, guilt assailed him. Not only because he was about to manipulate Clay, but because what he’d been forced to do to Maxwell still haunted him.

When it came to CONQUEST, at least Hammond had the deniability of wartime if the program and its atrocities ever became public. It would be a scandal, but it was unlikely he’d be tried for war crimes. But if the public learned that he’d been complicit in the murder of a fellow American officer . . . he would be crucified.

Hammond unbuckled his seat belt and walked to the minifridge. Coming back to his seat, he looked at the members of his protective detail. Two were playing cards, one was sleeping, and the other two were reading paperbacks.

“What are you guys reading?” he asked, opening his Perrier.

One of the agents showed him the cover of his book. “Open Carry, by Marc Cameron, sir. It’s about a US marshal conducting an investigation into the disappearance of three people in Alaska. This guy can write, sir.”

“You’re from Alaska, aren’t you?” Hammond asked, but he already knew the answer. “His descriptions are pretty accurate?”

“Yes, sir. Vividly so.”

Hammond’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He excused himself and went back to his seat.

“Hammond.”

“General Girdner, sir,” the provost marshal general said. “My phone is secure.”

Hammond covered the speaker with his hand. “Gentlemen,” he said to the five Secret Service agents. “I need ten minutes.”

The special agent who’d been reading the Marc Cameron book woke up his buddy, who’d been sleeping in the seat next to him, with a quick elbow jab, and then they both joined the other three at the front of the plane.

“What’s up, Tom? Any more news coming from Palo Alto?”

“Reports indicate that Drain is down. In fact, it’s been completely wiped out.”

That was the first bit of good news Hammond had heard all day.

“You were right, sir,” Girdner continued. “Whoever took down our guys had the exact same objective we did.”

“We both know who’s behind this, Tom.”

“Roy Oxley.”

“Right.”

“May I ask what you have in store for Clayton White?” Girdner asked.

Hammond frowned. He didn’t like to be quizzed by his subordinates. “Why is that of any importance to you?”

“Do I need to remind you that we’re six weeks away from inauguration? Both our necks are on the line here, Alex,” Girdner said.

“And do I need to remind you that Oxley tried to assassinate my daughter?” Hammond hissed back through clenched teeth. “Are you asking me to let this go?”

“Of course not,” Girdner replied, his tone apologetic. “I’m just trying to put things in perspective. I don’t want this thing with Oxley to escalate any further than it needs to. Oxley is dangerous, and resourceful.”

“Even more reason to go after him now. Oxley is a bully, Tom. We can’t let bullies run the schoolyard.”

It took a moment for Girdner to reply, but when he did, Hammond saw that his friend had put two and two together.

“That’s why you need Clayton White,” he said. “You’re going to send him after Oxley.”

“Clay’s gonna get the job done,” Hammond assured him. “I know how he operates.”

“You’re playing with fire,” Girdner warned him. “If Clayton learns what you did to Maxwell, he’ll—”