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That was her subtle dig. Alexander hated to be patronized.
“Stop buttering me up, Irene. I already feel like a turkey about to get shoved in the oven.”
She reached for her tea, relieved that the level of tension had diminished slightly.
“Did you hear that the ambassador’s begged off?” Alexander said. “Some bullshit story about having food poisoning. So we’re just getting Nassar.”
“I’m not entirely surprised, sir. Calling an emergency meeting with no clear agenda is going to worry King Faisal and he’s aware that Ambassador Alawwad is . . .” Her voice faded for a moment. “. . . less than capable.”
“He’s a mental defective. But my understanding is that Aali Nassar isn’t. What do we know about him?”
“He’s a former army officer with a significant amount of combat experience. He was educated at Oxford as part of a scholarship program King Faisal put into place for the exceptional children of working-class Saudis. In his early thirties, he moved from the military to Saudi intelligence, where he’s enjoyed a distinguished career, culminating with him replacing Prince Khaled as the head of the General Intelligence Directorate.”
“Religious?”
“He had a strict Muslim upbringing and gives every impression of maintaining those beliefs. Having said that, he’s also practical and ambitious. So it’s hard to determine how much of his religious conviction is real and how much is just a reflection of what’s expected.”
“Another politician in the
making.”
“Possibly.”
Alexander leaned back in his chair and appraised her for a moment. “I’m suspicious about them suddenly flying Nassar in for this meeting. Do they know about Prince bin Musaid’s visit to Morocco? Do they suspect that we tracked him there?”
“I don’t think we should jump to conclusions,” Kennedy said. “Right now, all evidence suggests that King Faisal has lived up to his post-9/11 agreement with us. We’re not seeing any pattern of government-sponsored terrorism or support coming from the royal family.”
“Until now.”
“Yes, sir. But Prince bin Musaid is hardly a member of the power elite. I’d categorize him more as a black sheep.”
“So a disgruntled little prick who doesn’t think he’s getting his due is lashing out.”
“Until we have evidence to the contrary, it makes sense to assume that’s the case.”
“You’re always the voice of reason, Irene. I don’t know how you do it.”
“I’ve always been an optimist, sir.”
He actually laughed at that. The levity didn’t last long though. His secretary poked her head in and announced the arrival of Aali Nassar.
“Send him in.”
Kennedy had never been in the same room with the Saudi but now she had to admit that he was an impressive figure. Probably six foot two, with the square shoulders and narrow waist of a soldier despite being in his early sixties. His beard was dark and neatly trimmed, topped with close-cropped hair graying at the temples. He smiled politely and reached for the president’s hand.
“It’s a great honor, sir. Please allow me to apologize on behalf of Ambassador Alawwad for his absence. He’s quite ill.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
“That won’t be necessary. Your country’s excellent medical personnel have things well in hand.” His accent was more British than Middle Eastern—the result of his years studying in England.
When Alexander released his hand, Nassar turned toward Kennedy. “Dr. Kennedy. After speaking so many times on the telephone, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you in person.”
“I’m glad you happened to be coming our way, Director Nassar.”
His dark eyes flashed almost imperceptibly at her words. They both knew very well that the timing of his trip was no accident.
“Have a seat,” Alexander said. Nassar selected a leather wingback chair and watched silently as Kennedy and the president took up positions adjacent.
