ALI DROVE PRINCE OMAR and Kord to Memorial Hermann hospital through light traffic. Rain no longer fell, and the weather forecasters claimed clear skies for the rest of the day. Kord could use the same positive forecast for this case.
He feared the prince and Ali would consider using strong-arm tactics to extract information from Youssof. Couldn’t happen, although he didn’t blame them.
His phone rang. Odd —it was Monica. He snatched it to his ear. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Almost there. Can you put this on speaker?” she said, a little weakly in his estimation.
He pressed the button. “Done.”
“Is Prince Omar beside you?”
“Yes, Miss Alden,” the prince said.
“I’d like to request a video interview session with Rashid Dagher’s wife and daughters. They’ve insisted they know nothing about the assassination attempt, but they might talk to another woman.”
“We have thorough interrogators.”
“Are any of them women?” she said.
“It could be arranged.”
“Are any of them trained CIA operatives?” Her words grew slow. Yet the woman he cared about proved relentless.
“I feel confident we can convince Youssof Dagher to give us names and details.”
“If he shuts down, I’d like an opportunity to talk to the women. My findings could confirm anything you learn.”
“She has a good point,” Kord said. “I’m hoping Youssof is willing to talk, but we need intel.”
The prince glanced out the window. “All right. I’ll make the arrangements if our efforts aren’t successful.”
“As soon as possible, Prince Omar. Just wake me.” She disconnected the call.
“Thank you,” Kord said.
“We’ll see. My sisters are fond of her, and she has a way with women.”
Neither Kord nor Ali said a word.
Kord observed Youssof in the hospital bed. His eyes seemed glued shut, the young man’s flesh twisted and raw. More dead than alive. His vitals weren’t positive, a drop in blood pressure and a temp of 99.9. Had he thought about the consequences of his actions? What kind of monster had recruited him as a child?
“Youssof,” Kord said.
Silence.
“Youssof, this is Special Agent Kord Davidson.”
His eyelids attempted to open. “I hear you.” A hoarse whisper.
“Saudi Prince Omar bin Talal and his bodyguard Ali Dukali are with me. The prince would like to speak with you.”
“No.”
“You’re sending your father to his death,” the prince said low. “We also have your mother and sisters. I can make the call for their deaths now. Your choice.”
He dragged his tongue over blistered lips. “Innocent.”
“Your mother? Sisters?”
He shook his head. “All.”
“Then who’s responsible?”
“Parvin Shah.”
“You’re wasting your breath. I could ask Mr. Davidson to step out of the room. You and my bodyguard could come to an agreement.”
Youssof moaned.
“That’s better. I’m assuming you’re willing to save your family. Who’s behind the assassination plot?”
“Iran.”
“Interesting. Intel claims Saudi, but an Iranian was hired to carry out the plot.”
A tall nurse entered the room, more like a Norwegian Helga. “This is the ICU, gentlemen. Your time for visiting is up.” Kord showed his badge, but she’d not be persuaded. “I don’t care who you are. This man needs rest.” The woman was as big as Ali.
Prince Omar ignored her. “You’re saying an Iranian?”
Youssof slightly nodded.
“Born in the US or naturalized?”
Youssof stared up as though mocking him. “You’ll free my family?”
“Yes.”
“Naturalized Iranian.”
“Gentlemen.” The nurse’s voice rose. “Shall I call security?”
Kord whipped around. “We are federal security, and this man is in custody.”
“Doesn’t matter to me your business. My responsibility is the patient in my care.”
“Houston?” Prince Omar said to Youssof.
Again he nodded.
Prince Omar leaned over Youssof’s body. “For your father and family, a name?”
“Parvin Shah.”
“Who else worked with her?”
“That does it,” the nurse said. “I’m calling security.”
Kord waved her away, and she huffed out of the room. Prince Omar repeated his question.
“Me. I initiated the plot.”
“Why?”
“Conservatives.”
The lease of oil and gas reserves.
“Who else is involved?”
“They will kill my family.”
“I’m able to protect them.”
“Parvin’s brother took over. No name.”
“What did he look like?”
“Never saw him.”
“We’re done here,” Prince Omar said.
“My father? Family?”
“When we have the name of who you’re working with, your family will be released and protected. You’re a fool if you think I believe you spearheaded the plot.” He exited the room with Kord and Ali, passed the nurses’ station, and went to the elevators.
Inside the limo with Ali driving, Kord spoke. “Nasim died for what he knew, and he specifically said a Saudi initiated the assassination. The prince’s source indicated Iranians were enlisted to carry it out. Parvin Shah and Youssof Dagher may be on the payroll, but they aren’t the ones who put this scheme together.”
Ali snorted. “Shows how much his family means to him. But we have a lead to run down. Shah’s brother through a contact in Iran. Already notified our people.”
“I’ve done the same,” Kord said. “Prince Omar, give Monica a chance to interview the women. We’re looking for possibly another shooter or shooters from late last night. The real killer or killers just might show up at Youssof’s hospital door, and we’ll be ready to make an arrest.”