The Last Protector(Clayton White #1)(52)

“What do you think?” Krantz asked. “You think this is a social visit?”

“Did you kill my men at the SkyCU office?” Girdner asked.

“You know I did, Tom. It was a simple case of bad timing, I’m afraid,” Krantz replied truthfully. “It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out operation for me. And it was, until your team showed up. What were they trying to accomplish, by the way?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly why they were there. Are you here to kill us, Abelard?” Girdner asked with a straight face.

“That’s not my preferred option, General,” Krantz replied. “Hopefully, once I leave your house, the only dead person will be your housekeeper.”

Girdner opened his mouth as if to say something but opted otherwise.

“Truth is,” Krantz continued, “I’d like us to work together.”

“Us?” Girdner asked. “You mean with you and Oxley?”

Krantz nodded. The general seemed to think about this for a moment, and then said, “I wish Roy had contacted us first before going after Hammond’s daughter.”

“That time has come and gone, General,” Krantz said. “Can we move forward?”

Krantz wasn’t about to discuss Oxley’s decision or thought process with Girdner. This wasn’t why he was in Arlington. He wasn’t here to make small talk or justify anything. Krantz had shared his concerns about the Ritz-Carlton operation with Oxley, but he’d been overruled. At heart, Krantz was a soldier. All his life he had served other people’s interests. And that was fine. He was okay with that. He’d long ago accepted his position in the food chain. Oxley was a great man, and a good leader. By cutting Krantz into his deal with Le Groupe Avanti, Oxley had once again proven to Krantz he’d made the right choice by joining forces with him years ago. If Oxley had made a tactical mistake going after Veronica Hammond, Krantz saw it as his duty to fix it.

“I can,” finally replied Girdner. “But I’m not sure Hammond will.”

“What kind of retaliation is he planning?” Krantz asked, watching the general’s facial expression for any signs of deception.

Girdner put his elbows on the dining table and locked his hands together, his expression torn between fear and deep thought. Krantz was aware of what he was asking of Girdner, so he didn’t push. Barbara was still seated ramrod straight in her chair, but the tears had stopped.

“If I tell you what I know, and Oxley escapes Hammond’s retaliation, can we finally put our differences to rest now that Drain has been shut down?”

“That’s why I’m here,” Krantz lied. “That’s the plan.”

“I’ll tell you what I know, Abelard. Then I want you to get the hell out of my house.”

Krantz allowed a small smile to cross his lips. “Of course.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE


Cape Town, South Africa

Pierre Sarazin stared at his menu as though it was his first time at the restaurant. Even that simple task had become a challenge. He was glad he had kept himself in shape all these years because he didn’t think his heart would have survived the pressure he was currently under if he hadn’t. His life was getting more complicated by the minute under the heavy load of his constant lying.

Alexander Hammond had warned him about Roy Oxley, and so had the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure, or DGSE, France’s main intelligence agency tasked with acquiring secret political, military, and economic information from foreign sources. It was getting so damn hard to keep all his lies straight that Pierre’s heartbeat was consistently over 110. Even the drop-dead gorgeous view of Cape Town he had from his table did nothing to quell his anxiety. He signaled the waiter and ordered a dozen oysters and paired it with a glass of crisp chenin blanc. When the wine arrived, he closed his eyes and took a small sip.

For years Pierre had used his cover as a sommelier to conduct industrial espionage operations in the United States. There had been almost no risk involved, and the intelligence he had fed to his superiors at the DGSE had made him a rising star within the spy agency. During the last ten years, he’d been promoted four times due to the value of the intelligence he had provided. Targeting visiting foreign officials, American business leaders, and even celebrities dining at the high-end restaurants he’d been working at had been easy and almost danger-free. Compared to the bits of intelligence some of his colleagues risked their lives to collect from unreliable sources, Pierre’s intel was always solid.

That was, until three years ago, when by mistake he’d tried to break into Alexander Hammond’s phone. At the time, Pierre hadn’t been familiar with Hammond, but he had recognized one of the people he’d been dining with: US Senator Peter Shelby, one of the most influential senators in the US Senate and the current chair of the US Senate Select Committee on Intelligence. In retrospect, Pierre should never have attempted to hack into such a prominent politician’s phone, but his track record had been flawless, and he had never come close to getting caught. It would have been a fantastic achievement—one the instructors back at the National Academy for Intelligence in Paris would have talked about for decades. All he had to do was stand within one meter of the senator’s phone for thirty seconds and let the device the DGSE Technical Directorate had given him do its work. The device was preloaded with bootable software that could break through most four-to twelve-digit screen-lock passwords quickly. Once the screen was unlocked, the device would upload a key-sniffer application to the target’s phone that would link directly to a server Pierre kept in his condo. From there, a listener application and a reverse shell would be installed on the targeted phone, giving Pierre and the DGSE unlimited access.