She hit a few keys and looked at her computer screen. “Not for the next two days,” she replied, shaking her head. “We’re booked solid.”
Behind him, White noticed a single man sitting on a chair close to the elevators. He looked to be in his midthirties, had dark hair, and was wearing jeans and a pale, open-necked shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had a folded newspaper on his lap, but he wasn’t reading it. The man seemed uncommonly interested in who walked in and out of the hotel and was in the perfect position to monitor the elevators. White was too far away to see, but he wondered if the man had a coiled earpiece and was in communication with someone else.
“Are you sure you won’t take the room, sir?” the receptionist asked. “It truly is our last one.”
“I’ll pass,” White said. “Next time, maybe.”
“No problem. Have a great evening,” she said, already signaling the next guest to come over.
White wasn’t sure why he’d decided not to stay at the hotel he had booked online, but he was listening to his gut. Something bothered him. He just couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. As he walked toward the exit, he noticed a solitary man leaning against the railing of the second-floor balcony, looking down into the atrium. White had missed him when he’d first come in, as he had walked in the opposite direction. The man was solidly built and had short brown hair turning gray at the temples. He was dressed in black trousers and a loose-fitting black short-sleeved shirt.
Hammond’s plan for his first couple of days in South Africa was for White to simply act as one of the thousands of tourists who flocked to the area to explore the wonders of Cape Town. Once White was sure he wasn’t being tailed, he was to purchase basic surveillance equipment at different electronics stores across town and contact Hammond’s man to let him know he was in the country. He would then wait for Hammond’s contact to give him the green light in order to set up the surveillance equipment around Oxley’s neighborhood, allowing White to monitor everything from the comfort of his hotel room.
This was something White had done on more than one occasion when assigned to the Protective Intelligence Division. Establishing patterns of life for people known to be hostile to POTUS was part of the job. He’d done similar missions in Iraq when he was with the 24th Special Tactics Squadron. The only differences, and they were pretty big, were that he was alone, without backup, and in a country he didn’t know.
White wasn’t active on social media, and his name had been kept away from the press, at least for now. No one without privileged access to the Pentagon’s database would learn anything about him. He’d googled himself a few times, and the only things to come up were the citations for his military medals. There were no pictures of him nor any other personal information. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. White was a trained investigator, an excellent close-protection officer, and an even better soldier, but he wasn’t a spy. Operating solo wasn’t his forte.
Solo or not, White knew something was afoot. And he’d been in Cape Town for less than two hours. He couldn’t be certain the two men he had spotted were on to him or that they were even working together, but he would feel much more comfortable if he could establish his base of operations somewhere else.
He exited the hotel and asked the doorman for a cab. For a fleeting moment, the doorman looked at him with a stunned expression. “Yes. Right away,” he said a beat later.
The doorman raised his hand, and before he could put it down, a taxi pulled up to the curb. White decided to ignore it and instead walked to the sixth taxi in line. A few of the drivers who had gathered together to chat gave him a funny look, but no one said anything. White knocked on the passenger-side window of the taxi he had selected, waking up its driver.
“You’re looking for a fare?” White asked.
The driver, a stocky man with a very high forehead, rubbed his eyes and looked over at White. He leaned across the passenger seat and rolled down the window. He looked annoyed.
“You need to take the first taxi,” he said, pointing toward the front of the line. “That’s how it works, okay?”
White pulled out his wallet and gave the driver two twenty-dollar bills. The driver snatched the money from White’s hand and unlocked the doors.
“Come in,” he said.
White didn’t bother putting his suitcase in the trunk. He got in the back seat and closed the door. He glanced out the window. The doorman was looking in his direction, holding a phone to his ear.