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Rashid grabbed the folds of his robe, lifted it, and sat on the couch directly across from the American. Ross added some cream and sugar to his coffee and then took a sip.
“Oh…you Arabs make the best coffee in the world.”
Rashid smiled and thought to himself, That is true, but why do you ruin it by adding cream and sugar? Instead he simply said, “Thank you.”
“May I be frank with you, Prince Muhammad?”
“By all means.” Rashid leaned back.
“Nine-eleven was a very unfortunate event for both of our countries. In its aftermath there was a rush to judgment. A lot of decisions were made.” Ross hesitated and then added, “Some of those decisions were, to put it bluntly, wrong and unfair.”
Rashid was not a talkative person under normal circumstances, but when dealing with foreign dignitaries he was practically a mute.
“The decision by my government to force your removal as minister of the Interior was wrong, and I would like to apologize for it.”
Rashid was once again caught off guard. His relationship with the American government had been so contentious since the glorious attacks of 9/11 he did not think for a second that he would be receiving an apology. He slowly took a drink of his black coffee and said, “Your words are very kind, Director Ross.”
“They are long overdue in my opinion, and I have told the president so.”
Rashid’s demeanor remained placid, but inside he was scrambling to figure out what this American was up to. Even Rashid, as self-righteous as he was, knew that the last thing he deserved from the Americans was an apology.
“For our two countries to get along we must understand and respect our differences…especially when it comes to religion.”
Rashid nodded, and continued to listen as Ross expanded on his thoughts. The man was beguiling. A charismatic speaker who had a way with words. He reminded himself that Ross had been a senator, and politicians were never to be trusted. After a few moments, Rashid told Ross what he wanted to hear. That America was Saudi Arabia’s greatest ally and that the two countries must continue to work together to fight the scourge of terrorism. Ross offered a few ideas, most of them trivial, but there was one point he made that again shocked Rashid. Ross told him that it was his sincere opinion that America should set up a one-year timetable for the withdrawal of all U.S. military personnel from the Kingdom.
The prince was awash in a sea of elation as the servants announced that breakfast was ready. As the two men walked from the library to the dining room Rashid reached out and held the American’s hand, saying, “You are a good ally. You have a better understanding of what it will take to defuse these terrorists than anyone else I have spoken with in your government.”
Ross took the compliment and then proceeded to expand on what he’d already told the prince. By the time they sat down at the table, Rashid was so thoroughly pleased with how things were going he decided he might have to stay an extra day in America and get to know the director of National Intelligence better. Ross continued to do most of the talking as the exquisite breakfast was served. He commented effusively on the food, the service, the prince’s robes. They were almost done with their meal when Rashid looked across the table and in a very respectful tone said, “I am sorry to hear that the famed Mr. Rapp was killed in an explosion.”
Rashid had planned on bringing this up for two reasons. The first was that he wanted to see if he could discover more details, and the second was to deflect any suspicion from himself by making it seem that he cared about Rapp’s demise. After Rashid had delivered his condolences, he noticed that Ross’s demeanor had changed. In fact, he face looked as if he had bitten into a ripe grapefruit. Sensing something was amiss, Rashid asked, “What is wrong?”
Ross was hesitant to reply at first. He took another bite of his salmon and then slowly wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. He looked at Rashid, tossed the napkin down on the table, and said, “I might as well tell you. You’ll know soon enough. Mitch Rapp is not dead.”
47
R ashid remained surprisingly calm. His eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that, he showed no outward signs of his inner distress. He stared stone-faced across the table at Mark Ross and asked, “What are you saying?”
“He’s not dead. His wife was killed in the explosion, but he survived.”
“But the papers and the TV,” Rashid said with a disbelieving look on his face, “both yesterday and today have reported him dead.”
“And they are wrong.” Ross leaned in and pointed emphatically toward the window. “He’s at a CIA safe house not far from here right now. He was severely injured but he is very much alive.”
“Why hasn’t your government corrected the press?”
“It’s a complicated thing, Prince Muhammad.” Ross sat back and let out a deep breath. “Let’s just say there are a few people who think the explosion was not an accident.”
“Someone tried to kill him?”
“It looks that way,” Ross said without much enthusiasm.
“You do not sound convinced.”
Ross rolled his eyes. “The man has a lot of enemies. It’s not hard to imagine someone trying to kill him.”
Rashid was shocked that Rapp was still alive and also that Ross seemed distressed by his survival. He decided to take a gamble. “Mark, you are worried by this Mitch Rapp business.”
“Absolutely.”
