Blowback

If there was one thing the Arabs were good about rewarding, it was loyalty. Reynolds had not only saved the life of a member of the Royal Family, but had also been an excellent head of security for Aramco. If the ex-CIA man really had information about a threat against the Crown Prince’s life, then the advisor had no other choice but to make sure he was heard.

Reynolds hated using a lie to gain access to the prince, but he knew it would be the only way they would get a meeting. Eliciting a promise from the advisor not to mention the plot to anyone but the Crown Prince himself, Reynolds hung up the phone and waited with Harvath for what seemed like an eternity for a response from At’Taif. When the call finally came, Reynolds was told that the Crown Prince was willing to see him and the two witnesses he sought to bring along who had “firsthand” knowledge of the plot.

Now, as the trio was bundled into one of Abdullah’s heavily armored Suburbans and driven toward his summer palace, Harvath prayed not only that Abdullah would believe them, but that he would agree to turn over one of the most highly visible and highly volatile members of the Royal Family.

EIGHTY-EIGHT

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.”