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“Five million is far too much.”
“With all due respect, Prince Muhammad, it might not be enough. I will need to hire a small army to go after this man, and I will have to bribe many officials to get the information I need to find him. Five million is the minimum.”
Rashid did not speak for a long time. His brown, almost black eyes stayed locked on the German. Abel for his part held his ground. He did not look directly at the prince, for that would have only provoked him, but he kept his mouth shut, which was the number one rule of negotiating.
After a full minute Rashid relented. “Not a penny more.”
“I will do my best,” replied Abel in a voice void of any sign of victory.
“Yes, you will.” Rashid fingered another grape. “You always do.”
“I expect you wish me to get started on this immediately.”
“Yes. I have a plane waiting to take you wherever you need to go.”
Abel thought about it for a second and then said to the prince, “Moscow.”
The prince smiled cynically. “So you are working with your old friends the Russians? That is good. They will do anything for money. They are like whores that way.”
Abel decided not to comment. He wondered if Prince Muhammad had any idea how the Russians felt about the Saudis. It was tempting to tell him, but then again he had no desire to end up in the pool. He stood and gave the prince a curt bow. “Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Muhammad. I will keep you informed of my progress.”
“I will have your money waiting for you on the plane. No more wire transfers.”
“However you wish to handle it.”
A member of the prince’s vast staff appeared as if out of nowhere and gestured for Abel to follow him. As soon as the two were out of sight, a stern man dressed in white robes stepped from behind a curtain and joine
d Prince Muhammad. He remained standing with his arms folded across his broad chest.
“What do you think?” asked the prince.
The man sneered and said, “I do not trust him. I have never trusted him.”
The prince smiled. Colonel Nawaf Tayyib had served under Muhammad when he’d been the secretary of the interior. Tayyib worked for the Saudi Intelligence Service, and had been one of the prince’s most trusted officers. He was an extremely efficient man who was not afraid to use force to get results.
“What should I do with him?” asked Muhammad.
“I think you should let me deal with him.”
Muhammad nodded. This was the answer he had expected. “Keep a discreet eye on him. When the time is right you will know.”
20
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA
R app pulled into the underground parking garage beneath the Old Headquarters building at Langley, and parked next to Kennedy’s armored Lincoln Town Car. The spaces in this relatively small underground garage were highly prized. One of the misfits in the Counterterrorism Center had informed Rapp of this a few years ago. Apparently there was some recently promoted deputy director over in Science and Technology who was furious that Rapp was using his executive parking spot. Rapp couldn’t care less—about the parking space or the upset bureaucrat for that matter. He did care, however, about the private elevator that allowed him to bypass the main lobby and people who might want to bend his ear. That was one of the first things Rapp had noticed when he was brought in from the field. People worked at a different pace at headquarters. They had a lot of time to talk, attend meetings, and surf the Internet. Rapp’s loner attitude was directly at odds with anything that involved socializing. He prided himself on spending as little time as possible at headquarters and when he was there he did his best to avoid conversation.
The private elevator that went directly from the garage to the director’s office suite helped significantly. Rapp got in and slid his ID into the card reader. No buttons needed to be pressed. The elevator either went all the way up to the seventh floor or all the way back down to the garage. The elevator started to move, and Rapp looked up at the tiny camera mounted in the corner. He held his right hand up in front of his face and flipped the bird. Just before the elevator stopped, Rapp stepped to one side and grabbed the butt of his shoulder-holstered pistol. The doors slid open and Rapp was confronted with a mirror image of what he might look like in another fifteen years. The man was even standing like him with one hand resting on his own holstered pistol. His name was Vince Delgado. He was the head of Kennedy’s security detail, and he and Rapp loved to give each other crap.
“Good morning, Vanessa,” Rapp said crisply.
“Good morning, Michelle.”
“Is she in her office?”
“No, she’s up on the roof having tea and crumpets, ya dumb ass.”
“Cranky this morning, you old codger? Still not getting any?”
