Her father didn’t reply. He kept his mouth shut. Which scared her even more. Tears were threatening to fall, burning her eyes, but she refused to let her father see them.
“You wanted this to happen? Help me understand,” she whispered, feeling feverish.
“Not like this, no,” he said, reaching for her hand.
She looked at her father’s outstretched hand in disgust and slapped it away forcefully. He retreated deep into his chair.
“I don’t understand. I just don’t.”
Her father sighed. “The person responsible for the murder of your protective detail, and the cyberattack on SkyCU, for that matter, is a man named Roy Oxley. I sent Clayton after him.”
Did her father just admit he knew who had orchestrated the attacks? Veronica was dumbfounded. She had so many questions, but she decided to keep quiet. For now. She wanted her father to keep talking.
“Oxley is a former MI6 agent and a man I’ve done business with in the past,” he explained. “Going through all the proper channels was never an option.”
“So you sent Clay? Why him?”
“Clayton is one of the most capable men I know, Veronica. When he realized that Roy Oxley was a suspect, he decided to take the job. To avenge you.”
“Don’t you pin this on me,” she warned him, pointing her fingers squarely at her father.
“I’m not,” her father replied. “Oxley is also the man who ordered Maxwell’s death.”
She heard her own sharp intake of breath. “My God. I thought his chopper was shot down by the Taliban. Are you sure about this?”
“One hundred percent.”
“And you told Clay about this?” she asked.
“He knows the whole story. I didn’t keep anything from him.”
She felt terrible for Clay. Of course he’d go after Oxley. Clay had always blamed his father’s death for his mother’s passing. Carolyn had stopped living when her husband died.
“What now?” she asked.
“One of my assets is looking for Clay. As soon as we find him, we’ll launch a rescue operation.”
Veronica watched her father carefully. She’d been grateful to grow up with a father who was quite different from Clay’s. Yes, there were times when whatever crisis was going on in the world kept her father away for extended periods. But when he was there, he was fully there. He kept up with everything going on in her life and expressed his pride in her often.
Maybe it was because she considered them so close and she knew him so well, but there was something about the way he had said this last sentence that made her believe that the rescue operation wasn’t her father’s top priority. Getting that Roy Oxley guy was.
“If you have to pick between arresting Roy Oxley and saving Clay, what will you choose?” she asked.
Her father didn’t hesitate. “I’ll choose Clay over anything else. Always.”
She knew her father had just lied to her face. And in her book, that was the ultimate betrayal.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Cape Town, South Africa
Pierre Sarazin hurried back to the side street where he had parked his Volkswagen Polo. He opened the door and sat behind the wheel. His heart was thumping like an out-of-control bongo drum. In all his years with the DGSE, he’d never felt more alive than now, which, when considered carefully, didn’t make much sense, since he’d never been in so much danger either. He didn’t think the two could be compatible.
One of the first things he’d done after Oxley Vineyards had hired him was to install new security cameras. Nothing too fancy, but he wanted a nonintrusive system that would allow him to keep an eye on the facilities and the winery’s grounds. Pierre’s research had taught him that the fierce rivalry between the different winegrowers in the coastal district of Cape Town often led to the sabotage of costly wine-making equipment and, in two separate cases, arson. It was a sensible measure to protect the livelihood of the winery’s twenty-five full-time employees. Over the last few months, Pierre had come to appreciate the dedicated men and women who showed up day after day to do the backbreaking work needed to create God’s nectar. He had seen them get sticky, dirty, and sore from running all day long, up and down the vineyard hills with heavy buckets full of grapes. Pierre had developed an immense respect for them. Ensuring their safety was the least he could do.
And now he was about to benefit from it too. He unlocked his phone and tapped on the mobile application that gave him access to the twenty-five different feeds coming from the surveillance cameras installed around the property. The application took a moment to load, but when it did, twenty-five small thumbnails appeared on his screen. Pierre scrolled down the list. The cameras had night vision capability, which allowed him to confirm that the fields surrounding the wine-making buildings were deserted.