Page 86 of High Treason
“Take it,” the prince said.
She read the message from the CIA. Kord would have received the same intel from the FBI. “Prince Omar, your phone was infected with a virus that copied all your contact information. Everything available on your phone. A recording device too.”
He muttered a phrase in Arabic, one she recognized. “This explains Zain’s death and those that followed.” He tapped his hand on his knee.
“Malik is still a suspect, but I could be wrong,” she said. “I knowyou’ve been retracing your steps there to help determine when and where.”
Prince Omar turned to Ali. “Make sure Kord and Miss Alden have all they need. Also, what’s the status of Malik’s cousin Rashid Dagher, regarding his son, Youssof?”
“Rashid hasn’t heard from him since he left for Iraq and fears he’s dead.”
“Why?”
“The father could be giving an excuse to avoid further questioning. Stating his son is a good man and he fears his death sounds better than betrayal. Amir, we have the father in custody.”
Prince Omar huffed. “Miss Alden, do you have intel about either man?”
“We haven’t located Youssof either.” At the first opportunity, she wanted to recheck for a link between Parvin Shah and the Daghers and Malik al-Kazaz.
Prince Omar lifted his chin as though thinking. “If one of them is guilty, then the plot could spread to Iraq. But if they have chosen Iran over Saudi Arabia, that paves the way for violence. We need information now.” He turned to Monica. “I want to speak to Kord again tonight. You are free to leave.” Before Monica could stand, he spoke again. “One more thing. Have you accepted Ali’s proposal?”
Heat raced up her neck, the second time this evening. Ali stood within feet of her. “I’m honored, but I declined.”
“Understandable with what happened to you in the past. You are a spirited woman, and Ali recognizes the quality.” He smiled. “So does Kord.”
For once since she stepped into this mission, she was grateful not to look a man in the eye.
Back in her room, Monica flipped on her laptop and shook off Ali’s proposal and Prince Omar’s final words. No way would anyonepick out a husband for her except God, and she was sure neither Ali nor Kord was on His list for a lifelong companion. Besides, she wasn’t looking.
How much did Prince Omar know about Liam? She shuddered at the thought of Kord knowing the ink stain on her career ... and heart. Of course he’d seen the documented portion about how she’d killed an agent who’d used biological warfare in Africa. But she’d said far too much to Fatima and Yasmine knowing the prince would hear. She hoped her transparency worked positively for the case.
Digging her fingers into her palms, she longed to understand why God allowed her to feel such hurt and shame. Would she ever be able to deal with the past? Tuck it away? No matter how much prayer or Scripture hit her senses, she’d never see good from such evil this side of heaven.
Get over it, Monica. If you weren’t capable, you wouldn’t be on the mission.
She sent a request for more intel regarding the four persons with questionable backgrounds. Who else ran the streets with a weapon aimed at Prince Omar and his family? In the morning, he planned to visit his mother with Fatima and Yasmine. If only the man would stay put.
Ali, as the new press secretary, announced the prince refused to make a statement about Parvin Shah until there was more information. To ease the media’s onslaught of questions, Ali scheduled a private press conference at two tomorrow at the Saud home. That would allow the prince to speak about his goal of forging a better relationship between Saudi Arabia and the US.
Monica had no illusions about assassination plots. Failure only increased determination. Terrorists didn’t burn brain cells worrying about the body count for either side. They’d march forward until permanently stopped.
She closed her eyes and relived today for anything she might have missed. Shah had worn an expensive men’s suit. Monica swiped across her phone to see the pics snapped before HPD and the ambulance arrived. She couldn’t make out the suit brand, but it dripped with money. Unlikely Macy’s carried it. She texted Jeff and copied Kord.
Shah wore hi $ suit. Find brand. Probably bought in last 3-4 months.
On it
And list of Houston retailers who sell the brand.
By normal calculations, she should be craving sleep. Instead her mind repeated facts and questions about who had designs to kill.
WHEN THIS CASE ENDED,Monica intended to take a vacation to Yellowstone National Park. Rent a cabin, hike, take pics of buffalo, create memes for no one but herself, marvel at Old Faithful, fly-fish, and find time to sleep for a week. Or venture home and relax in the slower pace of rural Ohio. Until then, she’d catch a few hours’ rest at a time. At 3:00 a.m. Saturday, her head hit the pillow with a soft thud, only to be jarred upright again at 6:15 when her personal cell phone rang to the old tune of “Bad Boys.” Stumbling out of bed, she snatched it from inside her purse. Lori.
“Are you okay?”
“The question is you.”
“Why?”
