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Rapp turned off the water and grabbed a towel. “He’s behind the Saudi financing of ISIS. Bin Musaid was just one of his delivery boys.”
“Why?”
“Bin Musaid died before he could say. My guess is that, with all of Saudi Arabia’s internal problems, Nassar thinks ISIS is going to come out on top. He wants to be on the winning side.”
“Did the prince live long enough to give you the names of anyone else involved?”
“No. And he wouldn’t have known anyway. Nassar would play that pretty close to his chest.”
“What about King Faisal?”
“I doubt he’d be part of this. I’ve known him for years and he’s just looking to run out the clock. But wealthy businessmen who want to cut deals, royals who want Faisal’s throne, government officials looking to move up the ladder? The list of Saudis who have reasons to sympathize with ISIS isn’t exactly short.”
“All right. I’ll start working on Nassar’s history, known associates, and financial condition. Any chance you’d consider contacting Irene? I’m good, but I don’t have her resources.”
He shook his head and pulled on the clothes she’d laid out for him. “The only evidence I have against Nassar is the word of a little pissant who’s getting scraped off the road right now. I agreed to get myself into this. But she didn’t agree to come along.”
“Okay. I’ll handle it.”
“Carefully, though, right, Claudia? Nassar might be a terrorist son of a bitch, but he’s a smart one with an army.”
CHAPTER 31
Riyadh
Saudi Arabia
THE knock on Aali Nassar’s bedroom door was hesitant but insistent. Not his wife. Even in an emergency, she would go to the staff before disturbing him. The clock read 3 a.m.
He rolled from bed and put on a robe before striding through the darkness to the door. As expected, the head of his security detail was standing on the other side.
“What is it?”
“Your assistant just arrived, Director. He says it’s critical that you speak.
Nassar nodded. “Show him to my study. I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Right away, sir.”
Nassar pulled on a pair of slacks and a collared shirt before starting for the office he kept at the back of his home. Enough lights had been turned on to allow him to navigate, but not so many that the activity in the house would be obvious. These kinds of surprise meetings were kept as quiet as possible.
What was so important that it couldn’t wait another three hours until he arrived at the office? A successful terrorist attack on the homeland? An action by the president of the United States? The death of the king?
When Nassar entered the office, he found Hamid Safar pacing its length.
“Sir, we have reports that Prince bin Musaid has been killed.”
Nassar felt a profound sense of relief but didn’t show it. “How?”
“A terrorist attack at a private club in Monaco.”
“A terrorist attack? Do we have details?”
“There appear to have been ten men in total, all armed with assault rifles. They took out the security people and forced their way in, then proceeded to kill or wound a significant portion of the c
lientele before being killed themselves.”
“By authorities?”
