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“Where?” Rashid asked in a guarded tone.
“In front of the headquarters of Abdullah Telecommunications.”
“Abdullah Telecommunications,” Rashid said absolutely shocked. “What kind of explosion?”
“A suicide bomber.”
“A suicide bomber,” repeated a confused Rashid. The Kingdom was very good at exporting suicide bombers. Occasionally one would strike within the Kingdom itself, but it was always against Western targets, usually the Americans. “Was anyone killed?”
“I’m afraid so.” Tayyib looked down. “Saeed Ahmed Abdullah.”
Upon hearing the name of his childhood friend, Rashid was speechless. After a moment he regained his composure and asked, “How did this happen?”
“Witnesses say that Saeed was leaving noontime prayer and was walking across the street to his office. The man was waiting for him. He came up and hugged Saeed and then blew himself up.”
Rashid was dumbstruck. “Who was the bomber?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Why would a suicide bomber want to kill Saeed?”
Tayyib had been wrestling with this same question.
The prince stood and gathered his robes, one folded over each arm. “Rise,” he said as he stepped down from the platform. His mind had stumbled upon a horrible possibility. “And what of our business in America?”
Tayyib stood and said, “I have failed you, my prince.” He had thought about his answer on the long flight. The truth was he didn’t know what had gone wrong, but that in and of itself was proof of failure. “The men I sent to take care of the job never returned.”
“What happened to them?”
“I do not know.”
“So Mitch Rapp is still alive.” It was a statement not a question.
“I think so.”
“And my good friend Saeed has just been killed.” Rashid walked across the marble floor from one Persian rug to the next until he was looking out a small window. He could think of no reason why a Muslim would kill Saeed. Rapp on the other hand had plenty of motives. Rashid remembered he had warned his old friend to keep his mouth shut. The Americans had found out about the bounty, and Rapp was already in Saudi Arabia killing those responsible for his wife’s death.
“I know what you are thinking, my prince, but I do not see how Rapp could have left America and put this together so quickly. Who would he find to be a suicide bomber?”
“Maybe he blew himself up?” Rashid asked in a hopeful tone.
Tayyib thought about that for a moment and then announced, “I have studied Rapp. The man would never commit suicide unless he had to. He would have simply shot Saeed.”
“Then tell me why a fellow Muslim would want to kill Saeed?”
“Maybe it wasn’t a Muslim.”
Rashid frowned. “There is no such thing as a non-Muslim suicide bomber. Do you see any Jewish suicide bombers? Even the Irish during their war with the British never resorted to suicide bombings. The Japanese are the only other culture to employ the tactic in modern history, and I doubt the Japanese killed Saeed.”
“I’ll grant that the timing looks bad, but I don’t see how Rapp could have left America on Sunday and orchestrated something like this. I myself left Sunday evening and I arrived only an hour ago.”
“What about Abel?”
Tayyib considered the possibility. “We still can’t find him. As of Saturday I know he had not returned Saeed’s money, but again where is Abel going to find a suicide bomber?”
“Then what happened?”
“I am reluctant to guess with so little information.”
