PRINCE OMAR’S PANELED OFFICE glistened with cherry hardwoods. L-shaped bookcases and cabinets lined a twenty-foot wall and around a corner. A white marble fireplace stood between the shelves of books. More gold trimmed the room than Kord would earn in a lifetime. His feet sank into a handmade cream-colored Persian rug woven with pale blue and green flowers. Instead of the prince sitting behind the elaborate desk, the two sat in companion chairs.
“Prince Omar, we’ve talked for twenty minutes.”
“And nothing is resolved.”
Memories of the past in Saudi Arabia and beating the odds in insurmountable danger were favorite topics. Prince Omar said their survival was the provision of Allah, but Kord had never been a believer in anything but himself. Not an atheist but rather an agnostic. Truth was, he’d like to find something to believe in when the world seemed so crazy. “We could keep this up until the sun rises and not grow tired of the stories. But right now we’ve got to figure out who’s responsible for the deaths, and who wants you dead.”
The prince steepled his fingers. “Our lists grow by the minute.”
Kord clenched his fist. “I refuse to see you end up like Zain.”
“Then where do we begin? Syria? Yemen? Iran? The oil situation that fuels power and hatred? The constant actions of ISIS? The Sunni? Those in Iraq who side with Iran? The protesters in your country?”
“What’s changed?” Kord said.
“There are no fools in this game. All roads lead to Iran, and our sources are on it. Just who is carrying the smoking gun, only Allah knows. We’ll hunt down all those involved and execute them.”
Kord understood a nation’s pride and how the prince believed his country deserved the distinction of eliminating the killer. “Are you ready to exchange names?”
“I gave those to Carlton and Thomas.”
Kord believed he was holding back, but why? “You have more. When will you share what’s really happening?”
“I’m waiting for a report inside Iran. If correct, then we can move forward. You stated earlier you had an idea.”
“I’m also waiting on info —from a man inside Iraq. Politically connected, and I trust him implicitly. He’s helped the FBI many times, but his concern is for his family. I didn’t want to mention it at dinner and expose his cover. As soon as he calls, I’ll relay the information.”
“We could help him get out of Iraq or protect his family.”
“I’ll make sure he’s aware of your generosity.”
“Is he a friend from your upbringing there?”
“No, my work with the FBI. It’s been too many years since I lived among the Iraqis to have a reliable informant from that time.”
“Ah, weak men sway with the wind. Do you suspect a man here or in the Middle East?”
Kord wished he could give him a name or a group. “If I did, he’d be dead or in jail.”
“Saudi eyes miss nothing.”
“Do you trust every man in this house?”
He pressed his lips and nodded. “It makes this conversation difficult. But someone leaked information about my arrival.”
“Do any of your men side with the conservatives?”
“No. That bunch is in Riyadh.”
Kord took a sip of coffee. “Amir, I see your schedule is blocked for personal time.”
“I need to ensure my mother’s care and possible surgery can be done with my presence. Business meetings will occur then too.”
Kord knew the prince far too well, and idleness wasn’t in his vocabulary. “When is the first meeting with oil and gas executives?”
“Tomorrow afternoon with Shell. Also talking to Exxon the end of the week.”
“Who’s aware of the meetings?”
“Malik and Ali.”
Monica had jarred loose his investigative skills. Unless a hacker had been successful in obtaining Prince Omar’s schedule, a traitor roamed the house. “You’ll keep me posted on all developments?”
“You are my ambassador to the Americans.” He smiled. “Tomorrow is a busy day and we need our rest.”
“Before we head to bed, may I ask two favors?”
“Of course.”
“Trust me. I will do all within my power to keep you and your family protected.”
“I have no doubt.”
“The second is Miss Alden would like a word with you. I’ll accompany her.”
“Can’t you relay her thoughts?”
He wanted to laugh. “Possibly, if she’d shared them with me.”
“For you, my friend. A few minutes by the pool where we met earlier.”
Kord thanked him and texted Monica to meet him in the foyer.
At the foot of the massive staircase, Kord breathed in admiration for the operative who’d chosen her job over defying culture. She wore a black scarf around her head, covering any semblance of blonde hair. If not for her ocean-blue eyes and pale face, he wouldn’t have recognized her.
He liked her. Strange for him to come to a conclusion so quickly.
“Wasn’t expecting a transformation,” he said. “But your reputation states an identity change at a moment’s notice.”
“This is the only way I know to get Prince Omar’s attention. It’s not the Saudi black from head to toe, but hopefully he’ll see this as a positive step.”
Her dilemma touched him, a pleasant surprise. “Monica, your skills are indispensable.”
She blinked.
Where did this about-face reaction come from? He’d been less than cordial when they first met. How strange in the course of the day, he’d learned to appreciate her skills.
“Thanks for requesting I be a part of the dinner meeting tonight.”
“You needed to hear the conversation.”
“What did you want to discuss before talking to Prince Omar?”
“Basically he believes Iran is behind the murders. Until he reveals what he isn’t ready to share, we keep investigating. He’ll tell me more after he hears from his sources.” He shrugged. “I’m waiting on my informant inside Iraq.”
“Has the prince shared how he plans to avoid the media while negotiating oil leases?”
“Managing his mother’s care.”
“That’s a change in his habits when his visits in the past have been more . . . colorful.”
“Depends if you know him or listen to media hype.”
“Kord, are you friends with any of the other bodyguards who might have insight? Someone we’ve missed?”
He could use Monica’s help with his problem. “Not a man. The prince’s sister, Fatima.”
“What kind of a relationship?” She eyed him with a twist of her head.
“Friendship, one established five years ago.”
“Who was the male chaperone?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Wasn’t one.”
“How could you speak to her without a male present? Or is the prince unaware?”
“He doesn’t know. We weren’t involved, but the fact we spoke privately might force me into marriage.”
She bit back a grin, but he saw it. “Or get your throat cut.”
“Hard to choose which could be worse.”
“Sure enough, Romeo.”
“Not funny.”
They walked to the natatorium, where the prince awaited them with Ali. The prince shouldn’t be annoyed with her dress. Although the damage had already been done.
Kord and Monica seated themselves on a gold tufted sofa across from the prince. His old friend’s eyelids looked heavy, aging him way beyond his forty-two years and cementing the need to keep the conversation short. A tray of coffee had been delivered. More caffeine would keep Kord awake when he needed rock-solid sleep, but respecting the hospitality guidelines was more important. Ali poured three cups. Kord waited until Prince Omar grasped his before he and Monica took theirs.
“Prince Omar, I appreciate your taking the time for Miss Alden to have a word with you,” Kord said.
“Yes, of course. Miss Alden, what can I do for you?” As expected, he offered no eye contact.
“I appreciate this opportunity in light of today’s tragedies. It’s an honor to be a part of the team to protect you and your family. You were briefed about my Middle Eastern experience. I also have the ability to read lips and a photographic memory. I have a mental snapshot of every detail about today: where your bodyguards were positioned, the exterior of the Frozen Rock, and how investigators have swept the crime scenes. While on the roof of the high school, I zeroed in on the surroundings there as well. Each man or woman who passed us at the high school is in my head, those at the hospital, and the description of each man at dinner tonight.” She lifted her chin, a little risky if the prince viewed her boldness as disrespectful. “I regret my first impression on you, and I don’t have an excuse. In your travels, you’ve been to many events in which Western dress is prevalent and appropriate. I will do my best to honor your preference of a woman’s appearance whenever possible. Please note, your safety is my priority. I want to assure you of my commitment to the mission and to help prevent another death.”
Kord turned to the prince for his reaction.
“Did you read the lips of any who might be a suspect?” the prince said.
“Possibly. I’m researching all those, including Americans and Saudis.”
“I want your conclusions.”
She didn’t dare implicate Ali with him standing there.
“As soon as I can verify them. I refuse to cast suspicion until I have facts.”
“You carry a weapon at all times?” he said.
“Usually two.”
“Now?”
“Yes, Prince Omar.”
“Are you accurate?”
“My record states so.”
“You’re a follower of the book?”
He meant Jewish or Christian. “I’m a follower of Jesus.”
“If given the time, I’d very much like to discuss your faith.”
“I’d be honored.”
“Do you enjoy your work at the coffee shop?”
“Yes. I like people.” Monica’s face showed no emotion.
“And what kind of coffee do you serve?”
She smiled. “Arabic.”
“Why?”
“Smooth. Strong. Less bitter. Balanced taste.”
He nodded. “Thank you for your time. Sleep well.”
Kord took his cue and escorted her to the stairway.
“You made a step forward,” he said. “Nothing can change his mind about women because it’s in his DNA. His asking if you were packing was a positive sign.”
“Interesting. He’s as hard to read as some CIA operatives.” She said good night without another word.
He rejoined the prince, who stared out over the pool.
“Water calms me,” the prince said. “When worries stalk my waking and sleeping hours, the sound of trickling water helps me think more clearly.” Prince Omar stood. “Kord, your assistant is a righteous woman. I believe she has a good heart.”
Kord nodded.
“Have a restful evening, my friend. Morning always brings light to problems.”