And to be ready to support White in any way he could.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Arlington, Virginia
“You remember Maxwell White?” Girdner asked, pouring himself some more wine.
“Of course,” Krantz replied, glancing at Barbara. The poor woman was still looking straight ahead, but now her lips were moving. Krantz wondered if the woman had truly lost her mind.
“Maxwell White’s son, a former air force officer, is now the head of Veronica Hammond’s protection detail.”
That caught Krantz’s attention. “Maxwell’s son is a Secret Service agent?”
“That’s what I just said.”
“Was he at the Ritz-Carlton?”
“He’s the one who saved the day,” Girdner replied. “If it wasn’t for him, Veronica would be dead. His name’s Clayton White.”
Krantz had never heard the name before. He was startled that a lone Secret Service agent had been able to stop Van Heerden’s well-trained mercenaries. Something didn’t compute here. A piece of the puzzle was missing.
“Did you say this Clayton White was a former air force officer?”
Girdner sat back in his chair, leaving his wineglass on the table. He gave Krantz a knowing smile, as if he knew what Krantz was thinking.
“Yes, that’s what I said,” Girdner confirmed. “What I should have also mentioned is that Clayton White isn’t some kind of desk jockey or flyboy. He isn’t like me. He’s like you.”
This was the last thing Krantz expected Girdner to say. “Like me?”
“Clayton White is a former combat rescue officer,” Girdner explained, once again reaching for his wineglass. “He spent years in Iraq and Afghanistan attached to tier-one units.”
“Okay. So what does Hammond have to do with White?”
Girdner seemed to hesitate, so Krantz casually extended his arm so that the tip of the suppressor at the end of his pistol was inches away from Barbara’s head. That seemed to motivate Girdner.
“Hammond is sending White to Kommetjie.”
“To kill Oxley?” Krantz asked incredulously. “One guy?”
Girdner lifted both his hands in the air. “Shit, I don’t know. Maybe. Hammond never fully reads me in.”
There was a note of panic in the general’s voice, which told Krantz he was probably telling the truth. What was Hammond thinking? Sending one man to take down Roy Oxley was outrageously stupid, no matter how good the assassin was. Again, something didn’t add up. Hammond wasn’t an idiot. Far from it.
“When is White leaving?”
“He’s already left,” Girdner replied. “He’s due in Cape Town in a few hours, I think.”
With his left hand, Krantz reached into his backpack and grabbed his encrypted smartphone. He powered it up and waited for the phone to acquire a good signal. Once it did, he dialed Oxley’s number and brought the phone to his ear, leveling his pistol at Girdner.
“How’s Virginia?” Oxley asked.
“The food’s crappy,” replied Krantz, completing the code they had agreed upon to signal he wasn’t calling under duress.
“Good. Talk to me.”
“Hammond’s sending Maxwell White’s son to Kommetjie. Name’s Clayton White. He’s due to land in Cape Town in a few hours.”
There was a brief pause at the other end of the line as Oxley processed what Krantz had told him.
“Very well, then,” Oxley said. “Good job. Now get back here. I have a feeling we’ll get busy real soon.”
“Understood,” Krantz replied.
“And please, my friend, take care of the good general for me,” Oxley said, ending the call.
Girdner looked like he was going to be sick. He had suddenly turned very pale. Krantz wondered if the general had heard Oxley’s last instruction. What Girdner said next answered that question.
“There’s no reason for you to kill us. Think about it.”
Krantz was surprised that he was still listening to the general, that he hadn’t already killed him and his wife. For some reason, murdering them didn’t feel right. Girdner hadn’t betrayed Oxley. Plus, Krantz had given him his word.
If he killed Girdner and his wife, there would be no end to it. Hammond would never rest until Krantz and Oxley were six feet under. By letting Girdner and his wife live, could Hammond interpret this as a gesture of goodwill on Oxley’s part? Could it somehow cool things down just a little? Should he call Oxley back and try to convince him to back down? For a moment, Krantz brought his pistol down.