Page 116 of High Treason
Before Monica fell asleep, she called Jeff. With her brain refusing to fire on all cylinders, she’d make more sense using the phone than typing meaningless words.
“How are you feeling?” Jeff said.
“That’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever asked. Or is it because I have a job to do?”
“Monica, they destroyed the mold with you. You always find a way to fight back, no matter what’s hit you.”
“Aren’t you glad?”
“Not when I hear you have double pneumonia. And I can’t relax or concentrate for worrying. You should be in the hospital.”
“Sorry and thanks. I’m okay. In bed at the Saud home. Taking meds, drinking liquids, and sleeping. The doctor brought in an IV bag and one of the princesses changes it.”
He sighed. “What can I do for you?”
“Rashid Dagher is in Saudi custody. His son Youssof won’t talk to Kord. Are the women in the family ready for their men to die?”
“They’ve been interrogated and said nothing.”
“By another woman?”
“Not a bad idea. We don’t have a woman on the ground there.”
“What about me?”
“You can’t travel in your condition.”
“I’m not suggesting that. I’d like to conduct a video interview with Rashid Dagher’s wife and daughters. Need to ask Prince Omar’s permission and request he arrange it.”
“And you feel confident in talking to these women?”
“We need answers before another person is killed.”
“Or gets pneumonia in all this cold rain.”
She smiled. “I’m working on it. Anyway, those women need a dose of reality.”
“Go for it, Monica.”
ALI DROVE PRINCE OMARand Kord to Memorial Hermann hospital through light traffic. Rain no longer fell, and the weather forecasters claimed clear skies for the rest of the day. Kord could use the same positive forecast for this case.
He feared the prince and Ali would consider using strong-arm tactics to extract information from Youssof. Couldn’t happen, although he didn’t blame them.
His phone rang. Odd—it was Monica. He snatched it to his ear. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Almost there. Can you put this on speaker?” she said, a little weakly in his estimation.
He pressed the button. “Done.”
“Is Prince Omar beside you?”
“Yes, Miss Alden,” the prince said.
“I’d like to request a video interview session with Rashid Dagher’s wife and daughters. They’ve insisted they know nothing about the assassination attempt, but they might talk to another woman.”
“We have thorough interrogators.”
“Are any of them women?” she said.
