Page 42 of High Treason
“Why aren’t the business appointments on your itinerary?”
“Malik hasn’t confirmed all of them. He’s making arrangements for a press conference on Saturday afternoon to announce my goodwill, and the invitations for the rodeo event were sent an hour before leaving Riyadh. That’s a week from Thursday. If the meeting with the consul general had taken place at his office, I would have made him aware of the press conference and rodeo event.”
“How long have you known Malik?”
“Since he was a boy. He’s dedicated to his profession.”
Malik’s position put him in the thick of the prince’s affairs. If compromised, his relationship with the prince—the goings-on of personal, business, and social affairs—placed Prince Omar at the mercy of a killer. The nightmare repeated in Kord’s mind. Two failed attempts ... If Malik was the mole, why hadn’t he succeeded? In Saudi, he’d have more of an opportunity with so many others to take the blame. Unless Malik was determined to destroy the relationship between Saudi Arabia and the US. But the prince scoured intel and background for all his bodyguards and staff. He’d have picked up on anything questionable.
What about Ali? He was at the top of Monica’s list. Kord’s suspicions needed to be explored.
“And when did you plan to tell your other bodyguards about the two events?” Kord said.
“When everything was in place. Remember last May when I attended the Offshore Technology Conference? All the hours we spent talking at dinner and then later?”
Kord chuckled. “Until sunrise.”
“I didn’t drink.”
“Right.”
“Neither did you. But I’ve never seen you drink alcohol.” Prince Omar paused. “The thought occurred to me then about how I was failing my family with my lifestyle. Since then, I’ve dedicated my life to being a prince who is sincere in what he says and does.”
“I’ve never doubted your loyalty to your country and those you love.”
“Others must see the new man so they will put aside my former reputation.” Prince Omar raised a brow. “Have you thought more about following Allah?”
The prince had spoken to him on more than one occasion about Islam, but Kord still searched for answers. “I’m reading and thinking.”
“Feeding the mind.” He stretched his back—obviously tired with little time for rest. “My country’s betterment is another reason why I must be seen respectfully in your city. When others see me, they see every Saudi citizen. While my mother is undergoing treatments, Malik will arrange business luncheons. Another opportunity for me to be seen without my past habits. But these will be short excursions to repair my name. Business negotiations of oil leases are vital.”
“Amir, the more you are exposed, the greater the chances of a killer’s success.”
“Hiding is for cowards. I refuse to leave the country or stay in this house like a prisoner.”
“I understand but I don’t agree,” Kord said. “And I promise I’ll find who’s behind these crimes.”
“To me, it all points to Iran. How better to destroy our alliance than to assassinate a Saudi prince on US soil. Think of their positionif diplomatic relations fail between our countries. Our united efforts of foreign policy are destroyed. Syria has less opposition to their policies. Yemen’s rebel movement succeeds. Oil. The position of the Sunni—you know these things.”
“But they must be proved with solid evidence. And they know if exposed, you’d launch all-out war.”
“We cannot fail in finding the assassins.” His words were filled with determination. “I’ll send you any findings. Nothing more to discuss about the matter until more intel arrives.”
“I need to get some work done.” Kord rose to make his exit, but the prince called to him.
“Your assistant handles herself well.”
“I’ll tell her you complimented her.”
“She’s a beautiful woman.”
Kord realized where the conversation was going. “Yes, Amir. Monica is not my type. She’s a crack shot, and if I ever make her mad, I’m a dead man. Too headstrong.”
Prince Omar raised a finger. “I said similar words about my second wife.”
DURING THE LATE AFTERNOON,Monica processed what had been drop-shipped into her life since Tuesday. While the household quieted forAsr, she walked to the window of her bedroom and admired the incredible scenery. The view was breathtaking, no matter what window of the home. Fountains sprayed like sparkling crystal, and the vibrant-green grass and shrubbery blending with spring’s display of color reminded her of a painting. How such beauty in a respite could carry a sinister air wasn’t unusual, just regrettable.
Dark-blue storm clouds rolled into view.
