Shit,” mumbled Reynolds as the Crown Prince and several other men entered the reception hall.
Based on the pictures Reynolds had pulled from the hidden flash memory drive back at his house, Harvath had been busy studying the face of every SANG soldier in the room and hadn’t paid much attention to the other men on their way in. “What is it?”
“Second guy from the end. That’s Prince Aziz, minister of state intelligence.”
“Faruq’s boss?”
Reynolds nodded his head and was silent until the men approached. “Your Highness, “He said, with a slight bow, reaching out to shake Abdullah’s hand once it was offered. “Thank you for taking time out of your very important schedule to see us on such short notice.”
A courteous smile appeared on the prince’s face and he politely tipped his head.
“With your permission, Your Highness,” continued Reynolds. “I would like to introduce Mr. Scot Harvath and Dr. Jillian Alcott.”
The prince nodded politely at Jillian and then as he extended his hand toward Harvath, said, “You look very familiar to me. Have we met before?”
“Your Highness has a very good memory. I used to be part of President Rutledge’s security detail.”
Abdullah smiled and grasped Harvath’s hand warmly. “I knew it. I never forget a face. Now, “He said as he turned toward Reynolds, “what is this all about?”
“Your Highness,” interrupted Harvath, “you’ll forgive me, but I think we should do this in a private setting with the least amount of people as possible.”
“Understood,” replied Abdullah, who then issued a string of orders to the men standing behind him.
Accompanied only by his defense minister and the minister of intelligence, the Crown Prince showed his visitors into a wood-paneled study.
In customary desert tradition, he asked them if they cared for any refreshments before getting down to business. All three politely declined. “Okay, then,” said Abdullah as he fixed his gaze on Reynolds. “Let’s talk about this plot against my life.”
Once again, Harvath interrupted. “There is no attempt on your life, Your Highness, at least not directly.”
“But Mr. Reynolds said-”
“Exactly what I told him to say.”
The defense minister reached for his radio and said in Arabic, “This is preposterous. This meeting is over.”
“Not so fast,” replied Harvath in perfect Arabic, before switching back to English. “Your Highness, there is a plot to remove you from power, and that is why we’re here. Mr. Reynolds cooperated because he believed he was acting in your best interest.”
Abdullah raised his hand and motioned for his defense minister to stand down. “I’m listening.”
When Harvath had finished explaining, the Crown Prince asked, “Do you have evidence that would support this?”
“Yes we do, Your Highness,” said Jillian as she handed Harvath a manila envelope to give to Abdullah. “Tests are ongoing, but this is a summary of what we’ve been able to gather so far.”
“Which is nothing more than sheer conjecture, from what I have heard,” replied the minister of state intelligence. “I’ll admit, I am not very fond of Faruq, but he has been an unquestionable asset to our organization.”
“And the meeting I witnessed with soldiers of the Royal Land Forces, the National Guard, and known militants?” replied Reynolds.
“For all we know,” said the defense minister, “they were informants. America isn’t the only country that pays for information, you know.”
Reynolds conceded the point. “That’s true, but what about the faked surveillance reports?”
Now it was the intelligence minister’s turn to jump back in. “To tell you the truth, I am more concerned with how you were able to get your hands on classified state information.”
“If that’s what you are more concerned with, then maybe I should be looking for a new minister of intelligence,” interjected Abdullah. “Are you or are you not familiar with the militants Mr. Reynolds is referring to?”
“Of course I am, Your Highness.”
“And is there any truth to what he’s saying about their surveillance reports being falsified?”
“I couldn’t say,” stammered the minister. “I do not personally review such matters.”
“That’s not the answer I expected to hear, Nawaf.”
“I’m sorry, Your Highness, I-”
Abdullah held up his hand for the man to be silent. “Where is Faruq now?”
“Your Highness, I do not think it is prudent to discuss state intelliegnece matters in front of-”
“Answer the question,” demanded the Crown Prince.
“Sa’dah.”
“ Yemen? With everything that is going on in our country, all the trouble in Riyadh, what is your deputy minister doing in Sa’dah?”
“The trip was planned some time ago, Your Highness.”
“I’m sure it was,” said Abdullah, and he looked at his visitors. “Do you have any further questions for either of these men?”
“Just one,” replied Harvath as he removed the pictures Reynolds had printed at his house. “We have reason to believe these men are going to try to or may have already infiltrated the ranks of your National Guard here at the palace. Their goal is to kill the Wahhabi leadership and make it look like the Royal Family was responsible. Have any of you seen these men since you’ve been here?”
Both the defense and intelligence ministers looked at the photos and then shook their heads.
“I would like to circulate these and have every National Guard member at the palace accounted for,” said Harvath.
“But the meeting is almost over. If things continue going well, we should have a consensus within a matter of hours and the Wahhabi leadership will be on its way home. Don’t you think if these men were going to try something, they would have already done so?” asked the intelligence minister, pressing his luck.
“Do what he asks,” commanded Abdullah as he handed the photos to his ministers and then dismissed them from the room.
After taking a minute to collect his thoughts, the Crown Prince turned back to Harvath and said, “Now that we’re alone, we must discuss the involvement in all of this by Prince Hamal.”
“We know that will be difficult, Your Highness,” said Harvath.
“More difficult than you can imagine,” replied Abdullah wearily. “Prince Hamal is my son.”