PRINCE OMAR AND CONSUL GENERAL AL-FAKEEH exited Princess Gharam’s hospital room with their bodyguards. Kord stood and Monica joined him. A light floral scent gave no doubt to her femininity. Trying to figure out the woman from her background proved more difficult than he imagined. Her Middle East missions proved her ability to outthink the enemy. But how did he size up a determined operative? But her innocent face and Jesus-freak attitude completely threw Kord for a loop.
He could trust her to have his back. No problem. But having her on a detail with an Arab prince who believed it was a man’s world . . . Could Kord work effectively when he might have to run interference between Monica and Prince Omar? And she’d already compiled distrust against Ali.
“She’s either very good or will disrupt all we do,” Ali had said when confronted with what she’d lip-read. “Your government shouldn’t have assigned a woman.”
Kord valued loyalty. “Or her gender could be an asset.”
Now Prince Omar approached him. “Kord, the consul general is leaving. My plan to join him at his office has been postponed. Dr. Carlson wants to speak to Mother and me together.”
“I’ll escort Consul General al-Fakeeh to his driver.” Kord needed to explore the two conversations he’d missed between the prince and the consul general.
The consul smiled his thanks. “A limo is waiting outside. My driver texted earlier to arrange for a replacement.”
“Is he ill?” Kord said.
“A family emergency.” He reached for Monica’s hand . . . in front of the prince.
Monica grasped it. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you. Have a good day.”
Kord turned to her. “I’ll keep you posted on our wire.”
She reached inside her jacket and positioned the earbud before taking a stance between the elevator and Princess Gharam’s room.
The elevator opened, and Kord gestured for the consul general and his two bodyguards to enter. The door closed with the protectors shielding Consul General al-Fakeeh.
“How was your time with Princess Gharam?” Kord said.
The white-haired man grimaced. “As well as can be expected. The surgery and clinical test is her last chance to lengthen her life. The prince said longevity is more important to her than quality, and her condition grieves him.”
“I have no idea how I’d feel in her position. Has to be different for each person. The doctors here have worldwide distinction for their success in treating her type of cancer. I hope they can bring her and the prince promising news. Strength and optimism are a disease’s enemy.”
Consul General al-Fakeeh stared at the descending elevator numbers. “I understand she doesn’t know about the threats to the amir, only about Zain’s death. She expressed her sorrow in the loss.”
“Princess Gharam is an intelligent woman. I’m sure she’s aware of danger wherever the royal family travels.”
He turned to Kord. “For his own safety, the amir must return home and allow another family member to oversee her care.”
How well Kord knew Prince Omar’s stubborn stance. “I’ve tried, sir. But he insists on fulfilling his responsibility.”
“I gave him my most convincing speech while you were on the phone this morning.”
“And?”
“He believes the attempt is for any male member of the Saud family, and he refuses to subject others to an assassin’s hand. He also has business matters, but I have no idea what.”
“Noble but deadly.” Kord carefully worded his thoughts. “Has he mentioned a name?”
Consul General al-Fakeeh said nothing.
“I can’t help the prince if I don’t have a suspect.”
“He hasn’t mentioned anyone specifically. My plans were to persuade him to listen to reason. For now he has this appointment with Princess Gharam’s doctor. He assured me we’d talk soon. But each moment that passes, I’m fearful for his safety.”
“I understand.”
The elevator door opened, and the consul general’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. “My office. I’d better take this. Kindly wait for me, as I have another matter to discuss with you.”
Kord waited in the foyer while Consul General al-Fakeeh strolled about twenty feet away with his bodyguards. What was on the man’s mind? Had the prince said more in Kord’s absence? Moments later, he returned, his face a mass of lines.
“Are you all right?” Kord said.
“No.” He shook his head. “My original driver was found dead. His replacement must be an impostor. Call the police.”
“Usher the consul to hospital security,” Kord said to the two bodyguards while pressing in 911. “One of you alert security. We need HPD.” He hurried through the hospital entrance, quickly spotting the limo. Kord approached the driver, an olive-skinned man wearing an expensive suit that appeared tailor-made —more reason to suspect a considerable amount of money had been tossed at this plot. A beard, kaffiyeh, and sunglasses completed his appearance. Kord noted the gloves, no fingerprints.
The driver eyed him and hurriedly slid inside the limo.
Kord raced toward him. “Stop! FBI.” He pulled his weapon.
The man sped east on Holcombe, tires squealing into traffic. Kord fired into the passenger-side window, making a dent in the glass. He’d banked on the limo not being bulletproof. Fat chance.
He fired several more shots. The vehicle disappeared through a red light. Horns blowing. Brakes protesting.
An HPD vehicle sped around traffic after the limo, and it too vanished.
Kord clenched his fist. Prince Omar originally intended to accompany the consul general to his office. The mole must be one of the bodyguards or house staff. Who? And why?
Monica heard multiple police sirens outside the hospital. A normal occurrence, but caution moved her to contact Kord.
She touched her earbud and brought the mic on her wrist to her mouth. “Everything okay?”
“Had a close call with Consul General al-Fakeeh. I’ll be there in a few.”
“What happened?”
“His replacement driver could be our sniper.”
“I’ll keep my wire on.”
She stepped in front of the elevator. Ali was positioned outside Princess Gharam’s room, stone-faced. He called her name, a first. Actually his first real acknowledgment of her existence, other than annoyance last night. Whoa, she needed to get over that.
“What’s the problem?” His English held a thick accent as he strode her way.
“A confrontation involving Consul General al-Fakeeh. All I know is he’s all right. Kord will be here shortly. Please inform Prince Omar to stay in his mother’s room until we know more. I suggest canceling Dr. Carlson’s visit for now.”
He stiffened. “Prince Omar had planned to leave with the consul general.”
She’d already considered that. Focusing on the elevator, she listened for the announcement of its arrival and watched for the light above it.
“Miss Alden.”
She whirled to Prince Omar with Wasi and Saad behind him. She was uncomfortable he’d left his mother’s room. “Yes, Prince Omar.”
“What’s the problem?”
“There’s been an incident with Consul General al-Fakeeh. He’s safe, and the police have been called.”
“A shooting? What happened?”
“I don’t want to give you an inaccurate report. Kord will be here soon, and he’ll have correct information.”
“Has something happened to Kord?”
“He’s all right.”
The prince stood before her. She could feel his presence like before, not menacing but commanding. A jolt, a chill and a flush, swept through her. Prince Omar must be protected without question, regardless of culture or gender. She avoided eye contact. “If a hostile is on the elevator, he could open fire. I urge you to consider moving back.”
Wasi took a deep breath. “Prince Omar, there is truth in Miss Alden’s words.”
“Very well. I wish to speak to Kord the moment he arrives.” He turned abruptly and walked back to his mother’s room.
Monica longed to be with Kord —in the middle of the action and adrenaline flow. Anywhere but with two burly bodyguards, Ali and Inman, suffocating her on both sides. Forcing relaxation into her body, she replayed what she’d told Kord yesterday about the killer —skilled with a knife and sniper rifle, trained to eliminate his victims with precision. He was cold-blooded, calculating, and had obviously murdered before. She’d contacted the CIA for updates in the investigation, and dozens of terrorists and questionable characters from around the world had made the list.
She trusted no one until they proved themselves. The fact Kord had a solid friendship going with the prince and now the current infraction gave her pause. Was he concealing information? She wasn’t paranoid, only playing all the cards.
Ali’s words from yesterday, the ones said outside the mansion, rolled across her mind: “This is over when I say it’s over.”