Page 117 of High Treason
“It could be arranged.”
“Are any of them trained CIA operatives?” Her words grew slow. Yet the woman he cared about proved relentless.
“I feel confident we can convince Youssof Dagher to give us names and details.”
“If he shuts down, I’d like an opportunity to talk to the women. My findings could confirm anything you learn.”
“She has a good point,” Kord said. “I’m hoping Youssof is willing to talk, but we need intel.”
The prince glanced out the window. “All right. I’ll make the arrangements if our efforts aren’t successful.”
“As soon as possible, Prince Omar. Just wake me.” She disconnected the call.
“Thank you,” Kord said.
“We’ll see. My sisters are fond of her, and she has a way with women.”
Neither Kord nor Ali said a word.
Kord observed Youssof in the hospital bed. His eyes seemed glued shut, the young man’s flesh twisted and raw. More dead than alive. His vitals weren’t positive, a drop in blood pressure and a temp of 99.9. Had he thought about the consequences of his actions? What kind of monster had recruited him as a child?
“Youssof,” Kord said.
Silence.
“Youssof, this is Special Agent Kord Davidson.”
His eyelids attempted to open. “I hear you.” A hoarse whisper.
“Saudi Prince Omar bin Talal and his bodyguard Ali Dukali are with me. The prince would like to speak with you.”
“No.”
“You’re sending your father to his death,” the prince said low. “We also have your mother and sisters. I can make the call for their deaths now. Your choice.”
He dragged his tongue over blistered lips. “Innocent.”
“Your mother? Sisters?”
He shook his head. “All.”
“Then who’s responsible?”
“Parvin Shah.”
“You’re wasting your breath. I could ask Mr. Davidson to step out of the room. You and my bodyguard could come to an agreement.”
Youssof moaned.
“That’s better. I’m assuming you’re willing to save your family. Who’s behind the assassination plot?”
“Iran.”
“Interesting. Intel claims Saudi, but an Iranian was hired to carry out the plot.”
A tall nurse entered the room, more like a Norwegian Helga. “This is the ICU, gentlemen. Your time for visiting is up.” Kord showed his badge, but she’d not be persuaded. “I don’t care who you are. This man needs rest.” The woman was as big as Ali.
Prince Omar ignored her. “You’re saying an Iranian?”
