Page 82 of High Treason
Investigators were on it, but she wanted answers now. Nothing new there.
“Where are you?” Kord said.
She glanced up from her laptop. “Thinking about female terrorists and their growing numbers. Parvin Shah fits the mold. The male clothes and accessories in her closet point to a single conspiracy, but that’s ludicrous. Track with me a moment. Let’s assume a man enlisted her, a man whom she was emotionally tied to—a lover or husband. He saw to her training and convinced her to carry out an assassination against Prince Omar. So who is the man?The scheme is too high level, and as you indicated, we only have a checkmark in a playbook.”
He studied her. “Ali said the mirror was secure to the wall. He started to give up, thinking nothing was there. He persisted and found the passport. I’m going with the idea she intended to use it when she completed the kill.”
“And today’s date was not marked on her calendar or on the original schedule. She could have been apprehensive about moving forward.”
Kord left his laptop on the chair and walked a few feet to the pool. “She was Iranian, an enemy of Saudi Arabia.” He shoved his hands into his pant pockets and looked out over the water.
“Now where are you?” she said.
He swung her way, his gaze on her but his attention elsewhere. “The list of questions with no answers. Malik’s denial of his involvement, but he’s been implicated. Was it to throw off the real mole? He’ll be released tomorrow. Prince Omar has made arrangements for him to fly home commercially.”
“Do you think Malik’s hiding something?”
“Why? He knows what he’s facing in Riyadh.”
“My point,” Monica said. “Would he rather face death than tell the truth?”
“Depends if he’s protecting someone or a cause. His story hasn’t changed.”
“Yasmine is a pitiful mess. I may need to rethink my approach with her to see if she’s concealing anything, either knowingly or not.”
“Do it. Any comments he made to her are useful.”
Monica smiled. “How is Prince Omar handling this?”
“He’s no fool, and he’s been on the phone constantly to his people.”
Her cell rang and she recognized Ali’s number. “Hi, Ali. Is there a problem?”
“Are you available for a walk in thirty minutes?”
“That’s fine. Will Kord be joining us?”
“He has a meeting with Prince Omar.”
What was this about? “Where will I find you?”
“Where you disarmed the bomb.”
“All right. See you then.”
Ali ended the call. His request tapped at her curiosity. Why her and not her partner? She looked at Kord, who grinned back. “What did you and Ali cook up?”
He lifted a brow. “I’m innocent.”
“I think you have some explaining to do.”
“What did he say?”
“Asked me to join him for a walk.”
Kord laughed—far too long and hard. A joke?
“What’s so funny?”
