Page 52 of High Treason
“I’m surprised at your openness, considering your fate. Once we’ve finished with your confession, you’ll be under arrest.”
Malik startled. “For what? You have no jurisdiction over what I’ve done. Prince Omar may have my head, but not you.”
“Murder on US soil. A scheme against Prince Omar. Be glad I’m making the arrest instead of one of the prince’s bodyguards.”
Malik stepped back and held up his palm. “I had nothing to do with the plot to kill the prince. Are you an idiot? I’m loyal. Why am I even a suspect?”
“A stupid question, don’t you think? I read intercepted e-mails.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The assassination attempt. An e-mail calling for Prince Omar’s death came from your IP address.”
He raised his shoulders. “You have the wrong man. I too have an enemy.”
“Then what did you confess to?”
“Nothing you’d understand.”
“Your role as the press secretary means you have more knowledge about what is happening in Prince Omar’s life than anyone else.”
“I’d never lower myself to betray a man I respect.”
“Your background shows a trip to Mosul in January. What was the nature of the ten-day visit?”
“My cousin lives there, and I wanted to persuade him to return to Saudi Arabia as a favor to my father. Prince Omar knows this.”
That could be verified. “Were you successful?”
“He moved back to Riyadh with his family.”
“What’s his occupation?”
“A baker. I can give you his name.”
“I’d like it now.”
“Rashid Dagher.”
Kord typed the name into his phone.
Malik shook his head while his hands remained in full view. “We aren’t speaking about the same matter. Saudi intel says the plot against the prince is internal, but that doesn’t mean me.”
Kord pointed to a chair. “Sit down and explain what you’ve done.”
Malik complied. His face mirrored granite. “I’ve been seeing Yasmine.”
Was Kord supposed to swallow this?
Malik continued. “My intentions are to ask for Yasmine’s hand in marriage. I should have done so before now.”
Kord didn’t know whether to believe Malik or bang his head into a wall. But he wasn’t a fool, and Malik had violated trust, a serious offense. “You’re guilty of seeing Yasmine without a chaperone?”
He nodded. “Please keep this private. I promise you: tomorrow I’ll speak to Prince Omar. He could very well beat her. You know how this will look to her family.”
Kord knew of the disciplinary actions for women, an accepted practice in the Saudi culture. Wrong. Insanely wrong.
Malik glanced around. “There’s no need for you to waste time with this when you have more serious items to tend to.”
