The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)(51)

He made his way to the dining area and peeked around the wall. Seated at a square table set next to a three-sided bay window, General Girdner and his wife were halfway through a lunch of steaks and steamed vegetables. A nearly empty bottle of white wine sat in the middle of the table.

Girdner was the first to see him. To the general’s credit, he didn’t panic, but his jaw sagged open in surprise. The same couldn’t be said for his wife. Following her husband’s gaze, she looked behind her, her eyes immediately moving to Krantz’s suppressed pistol. She leaped to her feet and backed away from the table, knocking over her chair in the process. Krantz didn’t react. He didn’t move a muscle. He simply kept a stable firing position, his pistol pointed at her husband. The woman tried to keep a brave look on her face, but she was beyond terrified.

“Abelard Krantz,” Girdner said through clenched teeth.

His wife’s gaze moved slowly from Krantz’s pistol to her husband. “You know this man?”

Krantz detected a mix of anger and bewilderment in her tone, which made him smile. “Your husband and I are old friends,” Krantz said.

That didn’t seem to make her feel any better. In fact, her lips started trembling and her knees were shaking badly.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“W . . . w . . . what?”

The poor woman was so shocked her nervous system was shutting down.

“Your name,” Krantz repeated.

“Oh . . . it’s . . . uh . . . it’s Barbara.”

“Before you faint and hit your head, Barbara, why don’t you take a seat?” Krantz suggested. “Pick up the chair, sit down—and please, finish that delicious-looking meal of yours.”

Moving like a robot, she did as she was told. Once she had retaken her seat at the table, Krantz asked, “Is there anyone else in the house?”

“No,” was the immediate response Barbara provided.

Girdner raised his hands and said without hesitation, “That’s not true. Our housekeeper is here somewhere. Probably in the laundry room.”

Krantz nodded to him, relieved that the general was in a cooperative mood. Looking at Barbara, he said, “Your husband just saved your life, Barb. You should thank him.”

Barbara didn’t react. She just sat there, looking straight ahead, a dazed look on her face. It was as if she had swallowed half a dozen powerful painkillers. Girdner grabbed his wife’s still shaking hand and turned his head toward Krantz, his brows knitting together.

“Please,” he begged.

“I haven’t asked anything yet,” Krantz replied. “But you don’t need to worry about your housekeeper; she won’t surprise us.”

Girdner swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbled.

“Does she know?” Krantz asked, pointing at Barbara with the tip of his pistol.

Girdner shook his head. “She doesn’t, I swear.”

“I believe you, General,” Krantz said. “There’s no need for you to swear your life on it.”

Krantz placed his black backpack on the table, accidentally knocking Barbara’s wineglass over. It hit the floor and shattered on impact. Barbara jumped in her chair. A short cry of anguish escaped her lips.

“It’s just wine, Barbara,” Krantz told her, as if she was acting like a child. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Krantz grabbed her husband’s glass and put it in front of her. “Take his. I’m sure he won’t mind. Right, General?”

Girdner looked daggers at him.

“If eyes could kill,” Krantz said, resisting the urge to pistol-whip Girdner.

Barbara’s face had turned bright red, with tears flowing down her cheeks. From his backpack, Krantz pulled out a set of Bose headphones and a cell phone. He checked the Bluetooth connection between both devices and handed Barbara the headphones once he had confirmed it was working.

“Put them on,” he said. Barbara didn’t move.

Krantz sighed. “Tell your wife to put them on, or I’m gonna put a bullet in her throat.”

“Honey? Honey?” Girdner said, trying to get his wife’s attention. “Please put the headphones on. Please?”

Krantz stared at her. Barbara had entered some kind of trance. He’d seen that before in regular army units. Soldiers sometimes acted this way after living through a near-death experience. Krantz pointed his pistol at her, but once again Girdner intervened. He stood up and took the headphones in his hands, gently placing them over his wife’s ears. Once he’d retaken his seat, Krantz used the cell phone to play music. He increased the volume until he could actually hear a little bit of the classical playlist he had selected.

“Thank you,” the general said.

Krantz grinned. “Of course, General. As I said to your wife, we’re old friends, aren’t we?”

“Sure, but what the fuck is this all about?” Girdner asked, his tone changing now that his wife couldn’t hear him.

For the first time since he’d interrupted the general’s lunch, Krantz caught a glimpse of the man he once knew. For a moment, he had thought the general hadn’t aged well, that he had gotten a bit too soft. But this wasn’t the case. Girdner, like so many other military men, had two different personalities. His family and professional lives were two separate entities. Now it was the general who was speaking. The family man had retired to his quarters.