Page 22 of High Treason
On American soil? That hit a sore spot.
Ali lifted his chin. “Thank you, Amir. Whatever you need, consider it done.”
That hit a worse spot.
“Gentlemen, we have much to discuss,” the prince said. “I thought my trip here to tend to my mother’s care would be uneventful. Someone alerted an assassin of my arrival, and his actions have greatly saddened us. My close friend gave his life for me. I would have suspected this in other parts of the world, but not in the United States. Who has crafted murder and why?” He stared intently at those around the table. “I accused the Americans of disclosing my affairs, while the Americans question the loyalty of my trusted men.”
The Saudi men vehemently opposed the idea of a traitor among them.
SAC Thomas secured the prince’s attention. “There’s no point in dancing around the issues. The world’s watching, which means ourallies and enemies. We all want the killer found and justice served for those involved who plotted the killings. It’s no secret there are factions within both our countries who are against your policies and trip to the US. Pointing fingers doesn’t solve the problem. Only unity. The US is actively pursuing any threats linked to what happened today. Our responsibility is ending the tragedies and keeping you and your companions safe while you’re on USsoil.”
The prince folded his arms over his chest. Denial of emotions or a personality quirk? “The US was provided my goals for entering their country, and the problem erupted here.” A labored breath disrupted the flow of words. “This has me baffled too. Although we are at odds on many levels, the seriousness of an assassination attempt has critical worldwide implications. Dare I remind you of terrorists infiltrating both of our countries?”
“Prince Omar,” SAC Thomas said, “we’re looking into a computer hack. That might explain how the information was transmitted. The name of the person or persons will take time.”
“Leads? Suspects?” the prince said. “I refuse to hide like a coward.”
Kord captured the prince’s attention. “I may be able to offer assistance. Can we discuss my thoughts later on this evening?”
“Then we are finished until Kord and I have talked this through.” He nodded at Malik. “Consul General Nasser al-Fakeeh and I will meet here in the morning, a schedule and location change due to today’s attack. Please ensure our US friends are aware. Under no circumstances is the media to learn about my business meetings until I’m ready.”
The secretary e-mailed the security team a list that included a trip to the hospital after the consul general’s visit, then business matters at home. No mention of the oil leases.
The prince lifted his cup. “Enjoy your time together. Dinner will be served soon.”
Monica studied her partner. Could he have discovered the enemy?
BEING INVISIBLE HAD ITS ADVANTAGES.No one spoke to Monica at dinner, not even Kord, but she’d been on the invisible front before. For Prince Omar to have shaken her hand or given her eye contact would have disavowed hundreds of years of established beliefs. Her very presence with the men this evening went against their practices. This arrangement would not happen in their homeland.
When the prince’s sisters were absent from the meal, she assumed it was another boys-only-club affair. But she had no intention of cowering. Ali did little to hide his anger, but if he’d betrayed Prince Omar, he wouldn’t be visibly upset with Zain’s death. Unless Ali had been trained to mask his emotions and what she saw revealed careful orchestration. Possibly a dangerous man.
Monica enjoyed Middle Eastern food and recognized tabbouleh, a salad made of parsley, bulgur, tomatoes, garlic, and lemon. The hummus and pita bread were mouthwatering, along with a chicken, rice, and vegetable dish calledkapsa.
When the meal ended, Prince Omar addressed Kord. “I’ll have Ali escort Miss Alden to the women’s quarters. Then we can resume our discussion.”
“Good night,” SAC Thomas and Jeff said to her.
She hated being left out of the loop. “Thank you for the excellent meal.”
Ali stood and she followed him to a stairway off the kitchen.
“How long have you known Prince Omar?” she said.
He kept on walking. “Years.”
“I want you to understand I have a job to do.” She spoke to his back.
“As well as I.”
Aggravated, tired, with a persistent headache, and burdened with way too much work, she entered a common sitting room of a marble-floored suite. Two Saudi women stared out over the grounds. One wore a floor-length skirt in emerald and gold, embroidered and embellished in soft layers, topped with a flowing silk blouse. Monica recognized her as Fatima, the twenty-two-year-old princess. Her seventeen-year-old sister, Yasmine, wore a red-and-white long dress that looked like a T-shirt in silk. From the shimmer and style, Monica guessed the gowns were Louis Vuitton or Chanel or ... Didn’t matter. Beyond her budget. They glanced at her and then reset their attention on the exterior. So there was a girls-only club too.
A second grand reception. After she showered, she’d approach the princesses clean and smelling better—hold on, she had nothing to wear unless Jeff had arranged an earlier delivery. Great.
She’d learned the women’s quarters had three bedrooms, each with its own bath, and this central, lavishly furnished common area.
“Excuse me—which bedroom is mine?” Monica said.
The women turned to her but said nothing. She repeated her question in Arabic.
