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“Nothing, I am sorry to report. He is not answering any of his phones, and his secretary will not tell us where he is.”
Rashid wondered if he had come to America to monitor the business with Rapp.
“We have both his office and his apartment in Vienna under surveillance. He will show up sooner or later, and I will make sure it is taken care of.”
The prince walked over to the large French doors that looked out onto the paddock area. A magnificent shiny, black Arabian thoroughbred was being led out to the track for some exercise. “Colonel, do you feel I have been too hasty in my decision to eliminate the German?”
Tayyib was an athletic man with broad shoulders and sturdy legs. He was six feet tall and did not have the outward appearance of a thinker. In truth he was an exceptionally good tactician when it came to operational matters. He attributed this ability to survey the battlefield and properly assess the situation to his years as a standout defensemen on the Saudi national soccer team. He was, of course, a devout Wahhabi, which was an absolute prerequisite for working so closely with the prince.
“It is not my position to question you, Prince Muhammad.”
Rashid continued to look out the window and smiled. He prized loyalty and obedience above all. “For today let us make an exception.”
Tayyib stroked his mustache and said, “I am not sure I trust the German, but he has proven himself very useful.”
“Why is it that you don’t trust him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is it because he is a foreigner?”
“Probably.”
Rashid nodded. “I have never trusted him completely for that very reason myself, but he has performed brilliantly.”
“That is true. Maybe we should look at the problem in a different way.”
Rashid turned around. “Continue.”
“Do we have anyone else who can do for us what he does?”
The prince shook his head. He had already thought of this. “No.”
“The decision to have him removed was a sound precaution at the time based on a realistic expectation that we would need to cover our tracks. It appears that the German may have done such a good job we no longer have to worry.”
Rashid looked beyond Tayyib, through the French doors at the other end of the room, which opened onto the front yard of the estate. A motorcade of black vehicles was coming up the drive. It would be Director Ross. He was very much looking forward to this breakfast. The prince said, “Let the German live for now.”
Tayyib accepted the order with a bow of his head.
“I think Director Ross is here. It might be a good idea if you make yourself scarce.”
Tayyib left the room and a few minutes later Director Ross was escorted into the library. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, cowboy boots, flannel shirt, and jean jacket. The prince thought he was trying a bit too hard to flaunt his American cowboy bravado. His attire in itself was a minor nuisance, compared to the faux pas he’d committed by dragging four of his people into the room with him. Rashid looked at Ross and then gave the other Americans a scornful glance. It was not Ross, or any of the other Americans with their ingrained egalitarian sense, who picked up on Rashid’s irritation, but his personal secretary. The man gently touched each of the four on the elbow and gestured toward the door.
It seemed to finally dawn on Ross that he was in the presence of royalty and the prince did not enjoy the company of people beneath him. Rather than draw attention to the screwup he decided to lay it on. “Prince Muhammad, I can’t thank you enough for taking the time to see me. I’m really looking forward to our morning together.”
“So am I,” Rashid said in a kind voice. “And I thank you for your invitation. I had not thought of coming with the delegation.”
“Well, that’s too bad. You are always welcome in America.”
Rashid supposed this would have been a good time to tell him he was always welcome in Saudi Arabia, but the truth was that he wasn’t. “You are very kind.”
“I would just like to say, Prince Rashid, that I do not underestimate how important you are to Saudi Arabia.” Ross paused and then offered, “The king may be the heart of Saudi Arabia, but you are its soul.” Ross was very pleased with himself. He had worked on this line over and over to give it the perfect dramatic flair.
Rashid
was momentarily stunned. For the first time in his life he felt genuinely flattered, not patronized, by an American. Although he completely agreed with Ross, Rashid had never shared this comparison between himself and his half brother with anyone. When he was alone in his thoughts, though, a day did not pass where he didn’t think of himself as the soul and bedrock of the Saudi people. Maybe the reports on this new director of National Intelligence were wrong.
Servants entered the room with fresh coffee and pastries, taking away the others even though they had not been touched. Rashid walked over to where Ross was standing and gestured for him to sit. The servants silently poured two cups of coffee without having to be asked and then took the prince’s barely used cup and left efficiently and most important, silently.
