“Particularly since we’re hauling around your big-ass sniper rifle.”
“Gotta put it on the plane back to Kuwait, Jamal. Remove any chance of the bullet ever being matched up to an American weapon.”
“I want to get on that plane, too. Doha sounds great about now.”
Kyle laughed. “I need your sorry ass to stay here with me. Anyway, you’re a CIA assassin now.”
Jamal looked over, taking his eyes off the road for a second. Then he smiled. “Mom will be so proud.”
44
RIYADH
“THANK YOU FOR CALLING, Mr. President. I appreciate the information. It will make things much easier on this end. One less worry.” King Abdullah was agitated but kept his voice neutral and pleasant. He listened a moment longer, then said, “Yes. We’ll speak again soon. Goodbye, Mr. President.”
He hung up the secure telephone but let his hand rest on it for a moment. His experience as a diplomat served him well in such situations. It was indeed good news and he would take time to be angry later on, when he was alone. He had bigger responsibilities now than spending time being furious with Gunnery Sergeant Kyle Swanson. It had to be Swanson!
This role of eternal dignity was already growing stale to Abdullah after a life of movement and excitement. Servants everywhere, anticipating his every need in this gilded cage. He was determined not to become just another isolated monarch who was distant from his people. Abdullah was playing a role that he did not particularly like. The time of the autocrat was over. The House of Saud had to change. He picked up another telephone and buzzed for his secretary. “Bring them in,” he said.
The door opened and a half-dozen counselors appeared for one of his daily briefings. He motioned for them all to sit, and they did. Every command was obeyed. It felt strange. He got right to business.
“How did the unexpected removal of that dog, Ebara, impact the overall situation?” he asked his military chief of staff.
The general put on his reading glasses and scanned a briefing paper before responding. “His death caused a temporary outbreak of violence and unrest in some locations, particularly in Jeddah. It seems not to have inspired the population to general revolt. In fact, there seems to be a sense of relief spreading throughout the country as people realize that normality may be returning. The Religious Police are drawing in their horns and showing signs of caution. They are clearly worried. Meanwhile, our troops are regaining control in every region.”
“The revolt is not over,” observed Abdullah.
“No, Your Highness. It is not. But it is slowing dramatically. No one has stepped forward to replace Mohammed Ebara as leader of the muttaween.”
There was a pause as the counselors waited for the king to speak. “It seems that clerics are dropping like flies around the country,” he observed.
The interior minister responded. “Yes, Your Highness. There is a striking similarity between the assassination today of Mohammed Ebara and the murder of the rebel imam in Khobz. Then there was the traitorous cleric who was responsible for the revolt at the Ash Mutayr base.”
Abdullah went silent, rubbing his hands slowly, an unconscious habit while he considered a new idea. Kyle Swanson again. He just happened to be in Khobz, Ash Mutayr, and Jeddah at the time of each one. A dangerous man.
The king gave a sharp laugh. “It is one thing to incite rebellion from the safety of a mosque and to distort Islam to cover treason. It is entirely something different to find one’s self on the firing line. These men routinely sent others to their deaths, but never expected to be in danger themselves.”
“We expect to turn the corner on this revolt within about forty-eight hours, Your Highness,” said the interior minister. “As the rebel imams go into hiding, their followers have no leadership and guidance. When they get tired, they will go home.”
“Very well. Now let me pass along some good news. I just spoke with President Tracy in Washington and he informed me that the missing nuclear device has been recovered by the Americans and is safe. He did not have the details yet. The important thing is that we now have secured three of the weapons and Prince Mishaal informed me that the fourth one will be transferred within a few hours from al-Taif. One more and that problem will be solved.”
There were murmurs of approval among the counselors. They were impressed by the manner and the actions of their new king.
The interior minister studied him closely. As cousins, they had known each other since boyhood. From his years as a diplomat, Abdullah had developed an outward appearance of being suave and calm, radiating confidence and trust. The deep-set dark eyes, however, could tell a different story, a soldier’s story, and often mirrored his inner feelings. Right now, the eyes were almost glowing in anger.
“It is time for us to establish a back-channel contact with the Grand Mufti and other important religious leaders,” Abdullah declared with a firm voice.
“WHAT DOES HIS MAJESTY wish for me to convey?”
The king stood up and adjusted his robes, then walked to a broad desk, pulled out the center drawer and held up some notes that he had jotted during his long hours of pondering the next step. “First, I want to firmly remind them that all of us are devout in our religious beliefs. Faith is not the issue here. Then give them a little history lesson on the long and mutually beneficial relationship between the House of Saud and Muhammad ibn Abd-al-Wahhab, dating back to the year 1744. Until now, despite some difficult days, that relationship has worked. We ran the country and they ran the mosques. We allowed them a lot of power.”
The king looked hard at each man in the room. “That trust was torn apart by this rebellion, in which some religious leaders have tried to overthrow the House of Saud! Even the moderate clerics stood idly by while a coup was launched, our king was assassinated, and the crown prince and other leaders, both Saudi and foreign dignitaries, were murdered. In short, they breached their sacred trust and brought the country into a civil war. You can emphasize now that these are my words: Things will never be the same between us.”
The interior minister waited, with his pencil and notebook in hand, but the king stopped speaking. “This will not be well received, Your Majesty.”
Again the king was firm. “I do not intend for it to be considered anything less than it is: a direct order from the king of Saudi Arabia. Tell them clearly, my cousin, that the House of Saud has survived…and that now it is our turn.”
45
JEDDAH
A DUEL OF WILLS was underway in the villa of Dieter Nesch as the two terrorists-the money man and the killer-inched toward important decisions.
The chef had outdone himself to prepare a special meal that might cool the tempers while the demonstrations still plagued the city. The maid served a salad studded with fat rubiyan shrimp and a main course of grouper, sliced open and smothered in sautéed onions, tomato, garlic, hot peppers, and lemon wedges. Bowls of spices and platters of fresh bread and cheeses were at hand. The two men touched glasses of white wine in a salute and settled into the lavish meal, talking only of little things during the meal.
AFTERWARD, THEY MOVED TO the big room, which was warm and bathed in sharp orange by the midafternoon sun. Outside in the street, a small mob roamed past the villa, yelling and wildly firing AK-47s into the sky.
“I assume you have been considering what to do next.” Nesch let his eyes flick briefly over to Juba. It was important to keep him satisfied. This was almost like being in a basket with a cobra. Let him lead himself to the decision.