The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)(45)

“That’s the issue I’m having,” she said. “There are three access-modifier keywords. This particular one is public. It’s not private or protected.”

“And that means what, exactly?” Oxley asked, leaning toward the screen.

“What it means for us is that this data field, the one specific to the Drain mobile app, can be accessed by anyone with access to the malware.”

“The Chinese,” Oxley said.

“That’s what I think, baby,” Adaliya said.

Oxley wasn’t angry or surprised. It would have been naive of him to think the Chinese hadn’t built a sophisticated back door into their malware to exploit. In the last ten years, the Chinese reputation for hacking had become legendary. It was a numbers game, really. China’s top 2 percent of programmers—their best—were greater in number than the entire profession in the United States, England, and Canada combined.

Oxley had no special love for the Chinese. In fact, he more often than not thought of them as hostile to his business interests. Oxley considered himself a patriot. He wouldn’t willingly allow the Chinese access to information or technical data he felt could compromise the security of Great Britain or, to a certain extent, the United States. Sure, Drain was a revolutionary tool for archaeology enthusiasts, but Oxley highly doubted there was any actual groundbreaking technology behind the application. The technology used for the application already existed. The novelty of Drain was in its implementation. It was the first mobile app to utilize crowdsourcing and satellite images to discover new archaeological sites or shipwrecks. It was a user-friendly application that people could use during their lunch break at work.

Anyway, it was too late to do anything about the back door into the malware—not that Oxley or Adaliya would have known how to block the exploit anyway. The Chinese had gained access, which in Oxley’s opinion was a very small price to pay to ensure that the updated Drain mobile application would be delayed long enough for him to clean up the site off the Arabian Peninsula. Once the Chinese realized there was nothing in Drain they didn’t already know or hadn’t stolen before, they would switch their attention to something of more value.

“Now that we’ve secured the data, what do you want me to do with it?” Adaliya asked.

“Erase it,” Oxley replied. “Delete it all.”



Oxley thought about offering his help to Adaliya, but there was something particularly sexy about watching his wife go through the motions of preparing dinner. It helped soothe the unrest inside him too.

A preemptive move against Alexander Hammond was the right play. The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. Knowing Hammond, the man would retaliate. He wouldn’t let the attempt on his daughter’s life go unpunished. But Hammond was a hard target. He was well protected. With the attack on Veronica, the Secret Service would certainly raise the threat level against him, making it almost impossible for Krantz or a third party to breach the layers of security surrounding him. Oxley didn’t want to have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. He had to find another way to get to Hammond, and an idea had just started to form in his mind.

He wanted to ask his wife for her opinion, but he didn’t dare interrupt her, so he just watched Adaliya singing and moving her hips as she seasoned the meat. He took two wineglasses from a cabinet and grabbed the decanter into which he had poured a bottle of Oxley Winery Pinotage. By the time he handed his wife a glass, she was done rubbing the meat with the spices and the fresh herbs she had cut from the garden earlier in the afternoon and had just set the filet mignon in the pan. They touched their wineglasses together, then swirled the red liquid around their glasses before they inhaled the pinotage’s aroma. They then examined the wine’s legs—the streaks that trickled down the side of the glass after the wine was swirled. They both sipped, swishing the wine around their mouths before swallowing.

“So?” Oxley asked, looking eagerly at his wife. “Are we there yet?”

He watched her repeat the process. “It’s good, but it’s not ready.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, disappointed. The minute the wine had touched his tongue, he had known the wine wasn’t ready. “Pierre has his work cut out for him.”

“You think he’s the right man for the job?” Adaliya asked.

Oxley cocked his head, sensing a hesitation from his wife. “Why do you ask?”

She smelled her wine again, then swirled it once more around her glass. “I’m not sure, Roy. There’s something about him. A vibe.”

“He has a stellar résumé,” Oxley said. “He worked at some of the best restaurants in Los Angeles and San Francisco.”

“I know,” retorted Adaliya. “I’m well aware of his credentials.”

“And,” Oxley continued, smiling at her, “he knows how to run a winery. We need this to work.”

His wife sighed, which was never a good sign.

“Listen, I know what you’re saying, honey,” he said, trying to make amends. “I have my doubts about him too. I’ll put a team on him for a few weeks, okay? Until we’re sure he’s legit. How does that sound?”

“We’re so close. We’re so damn close,” she reminded him. “I want us to cover all angles. That’s all.”