by Greig Beck
He breathed in the warm, flower-perfumed air and let his mind wander. It was hard to reconcile the lush paradise setting with the knowledge that only a few miles away was the start of the desert – hundreds of miles of sandy or rocky dryness where temperatures could rise to well above hundred degrees, day in day out.
“Where’s our taxi?”
His head snapped around. Rachel stood on the step, smiling and wearing a long, body-hugging black dress and killer heels. She slowly turned.
“You like?”
“Yeah, I like a lot.” Matt felt his heart jump.
“They even had a makeup artist come in to see me.” She nodded, her lips turned up in a small smile. “I think I could get used to this life.”
Matt was still admiring her shape. “It’d spoil you, Agent Bromilow.”
“Oh, I think I’d be able to suffer it with good humor.” Rachel came and sat beside him.
Matt checked his watch. “Still five minutes to go.” He turned to watch a couple of small peach-faced parrots bickering in a tree beside them.
“Do you know much about Prince Najif?” Rachel asked.
“I did a little research, but don’t know that much, really.” He shrugged. “Worth billions, part of the Saudi royal family, and fourth in line for the throne. The guy has a degree in engineering, studied in America, and is apparently ruthless in business. He’s quite the local hero.”
“Yeah, from our security perspective, we have a strong relationship with the Saudis. They are a supporter of US policy, but paradoxically also fund many of the schools that turn out to be breeding grounds for anti-west extremists.” Her smile faded. “Best left up to the politicians to worry about.”
At exactly one minute to 8 pm, two long, black cars glided up to the front of their building. As if by magic, Greta appeared, pushing Eleanor van Helling’s wheelchair.
“Where do you think she was hiding?” Rachel whispered.
Matt leaned closer to her. “I think she’s in her stealth chair tonight.”
Matt noticed that both women wore evening dresses to their ankles. Eleanor was heavily made up and looked like a sun-dried, over-dressed child. But the outfit Greta wore did nothing to hide the woman’s muscular shoulders. He also saw that both women wore shaylas, a longish headscarf that went over the head and swept over the shoulders.
“Oh oh.” Matt turned to Rachel. “Do you think you should be wearing one of those?”
“Yeah right. And maybe next time they’re in Texas, I’ll ask them to wear a ten-gallon hat.” She folded her arms.
Matt laughed, stood, and held out his hand to her. “Let’s go, our carriage awaits.”
A driver got out and held the door. Matt and Rachel climbed in and slid across on the leather seats of the second car. The limousine was new, and there was a set of crystal decanters in holders waiting for them.
“Brandy?” Matt poured himself one.
“Really?” She curled her lip. “You’re gonna drink that?”
“Sure, why not?” He sniffed the tumbler’s contents. “Single malt, and I’m betting, very fine.”
“We’re going to meet a prince of Saudi Arabia, a kingdom that’s one of the biggest theocratic patriachical, conservative societies on Earth. I’m pushing it by not covering my hair.” She nodded to his glass. “But you, sir, are asking for trouble meeting him with booze on your breath.”
“I really want this.” Matt looked at the glass and made his hand tremble theatrically. “Is this where it’s my turn to mention that ten-gallon hat thing?”
She looked at him deadpan.
“Okay, okay.” He replaced the glass on the tray. “Definitely on the way home then.”
“Foot patrols.” Rachel pointed to several groups of armed men with large dogs weaving through the small stands of trees. There were also camera poles everywhere that probably had thermal and infrared vision. She grunted in approval. “I guess nothing’s going to be creeping up on us here.”
They soon turned into a long, wide road that had a Californian feel with palm trees down its center, and at the end was a huge mansion with roman columns rising three stories in the air.
“More security.” She pointed. On top of the building there were anti-aircraft batteries peeking out from underneath sandy colored camouflage netting.
Once again the boat-sized car sailed to a stop and the door was pulled open. This time Khaled was waiting for them on the steps, leaning forward to talk to the diminutive Eleanor van Helling. When Matt and Rachel pulled up he waved and nodded appreciatively as they departed their car.
He clapped his hands together. “You both look magnificent.”
“I think it’s your taste in clothing that’s magnificent.” Matt opened the jacket. “Fits perfectly.”
Khaled bobbed his head. “Needs a bit of tailoring for you, but the size was right.” He clasped his hands together, but still made no move to lead them in. He looked quickly at Rachel’s hair, his smile dropping a little. “Just a few quick protocol things that I also mentioned to Mrs. van Helling: the prince is a traditionalist. Ms. Bromilow, as a single woman, you must not expect him to shake your hand. It’s best if neither of you make any attempt to lay your hands on him at all.” He shrugged. “His guards may intervene if they think you are trying to… invade his space.”
“Right.” A muscle in Rachel’s jaw twitched.
“Fine with me,” Matt said.
“Good, then this way.” Khaled bowed and then took them through.
They all passed through a metal detector, Matt was patted down by a huge man wearing gloves, and Rachel, Greta and Eleanor by a scarf-wearing woman, who expertly ran her hands up and down Rachel’s lithe figure, and then quickly peeked in her clutch bag.
Greta had to help Eleanor to her feet so the wheelchair could be x-rayed, and Matt noticed that none of the security stages applied to Khaled, who passed by untouched.
They walked down a hallway with paintings of past royalty on the walls, many holding curved sabers or sitting on thrones, and then entered one of the many drawing rooms. Matt was pleasantly surprised, as he expected floor-to-ceiling gleaming metals and polished marble that displayed great wealth but no taste. Instead, it was a room with islands of plants, Chippendale furniture and magnificent 18th century antiques that blended perfectly with their surroundings. Against one wall, a line of waiters stood ready with small, interesting things on plates.
There were dozens of other people in the room, many wearing the red and white checked keffiyeh headdress and Thawb robes. Matt noticed there were no women at all. Khaled nodded to a few, but made no move to introduce them.
“Stag night?” Rachel said, casting her eye around the room. “Jesus.” She whispered as the men stared hard at her.
“Who are they?” Matt asked.
Khaled shrugged dismissively. “Some lesser relatives, administrators or people needing approval from the prince for capital transfers, weddings, business ventures, or the like. Nothing related to what we are interested in.”
The huge double doors at the end of the room opened and a group of men came through. At their center was a small, bearded old man. He was nearly eclipsed by a huge figure beside him who was stuffed into a black suit. The giant kept his arm jutted to the side, near the old man, and just as Matt wondered why, the old man teetered for a moment, and then quickly reached out to grasp the arm beside him. The big guy obviously doubled as bodyguard and walking frame.
“The prince,” Khaled whispered.
The prince wore a white headdress with the black rope of an agel around his crown. His robes were a blinding white, and though the skin of his face had the gray hue of age now, it would have been coffee dark when he was younger. A large nose completed the image of a true prince of a desert kingdom.
He stood atop the step, nodding to individuals who bowed, some deeply. The prince’s eyes moved to Khaled, then Matt, and finally Rachel. He ignored Greta completely, but looked to Eleanor van Helling and nodded briefly.
P
rince Najif came down the steps and walked slowly toward them, an arm held up, with some of his robe draped over it. He stopped about a dozen feet from them, and Khaled bowed deeply, speaking an honorific in Arabic.
Prince Najif held out his hand and Khaled kissed its back, and then straightened. Khaled then half-turned to stand by the prince. He first motioned toward Matt.
“Professor Matthew Kearns of Harvard University.” He then moved along to each of them. “Eleanor van Helling of the New York van Hellings. Agent Rachel Bromilow, FBI.”
The prince spoke softly to Eleanor, and Matt was surprised to hear the old woman reply in perfect Arabic. The prince offered her a small smile, but didn’t spare even half a glance for Rachel. He stepped closer to Matt.
“I understand you are a professor of languages and ancient writing.” His dark eyes were steady.
Matt felt the eyes of the room on him and he nodded. “It has been my passion and career for many years now.” He bowed slightly.
“You’ve come a long way to see my map. Or at least the portion of it that isn’t locked away in a dusty, old museum vault.” He grinned. “What value is there in beauty or knowledge if it isn’t shared?”
Matt bowed again. “Sharing it is a gift. It is both an honor and a pleasure, sir.”
“There is a price.” He shook a finger at Matt.
“A price?”
“You will join me at dinner, and sit at my side. And you will tell me everything you have learned about the prophet Noah’s wellspring of life.”
“My pleasure, Your Highness.” Matt beamed.
The prince turned away to speak to more of his guests, and Matt turned to Rachel and raised his eyebrows.
“Oh please.” Rachel looked pained. “You did everything but kiss his ring.”
He grinned. “I’m hoping to be adopted.”
They then followed the crowd into a large banquet hall with an enormous table that was curved like a horseshoe. The guests sat around its outside with the prince at the center so everyone could see him. Waiter after waiter brought silver cloches to the table, whipping the lids away to reveal mouthwatering roasts of different birds, mutton, beef and then plates of vegetables and fruit. There were also pitchers of water, juice, teas and coffee, and some sort of warm honey drink that Matt had never tasted before, but was delicious.
Matt was just to the right of the prince. Khaled was immediately to the prince’s left, and fanning out to each side of the royal after Khaled and Matt were the other junior members of his family, some business men, and then Rachel and Eleanor right at the end, both of whom wore stormy expressions. Greta had obviously been asked to eat somewhere else – no servants allowed, Matt guessed.
Matt tried to catch Rachel’s eye, but she seemed intent on looking carefully at all the faces at the table. The waiters offered their trays to the prince first, and he pointed at one or the other, selecting choice portions from many. Once done, everyone else tucked in.
In no time, Matt’s plate was piled high with everything from duck to slow-roasted mutton and some sort of seasoned bread, plus an enormous side plate of tropical fruits. He noticed the old man’s plate was near empty, and he picked at small portions of meat and fruit, popping them into his mouth, chewing joylessly and wheezing as he ate. He wiped his lips, and then leaned toward Matt.
“Is it real, Professor? This wellspring of life?”
Matt turned to the man, and up close he could see the white of his eyes carried a tinge of yellow – liver problems, he guessed. It confirmed to him why a frail old man, one who was wealthy beyond Croesus, would be interested in the idea of being able to claw back an extra few years. His eyes slid to Eleanor van Helling, who was staring directly back at him. He nodded to her, but she never changed, her gaze remaining snake-like in its intensity.
Matt suddenly had a horrible thought – was she trying to read their lips? Impossible, he hoped. But… He turned back to the prince, and lifted one hand up beside his mouth to shield it.
“I’ve learned that there are things in this world that defy logical explanation, Prince Najif. I’ve seen beauty and horrors beyond heaven and hell, and I’ve come to believe that with all myths and legends there is a hard kernel of truth buried within their center.” He shrugged. “So, my answer is, at this point I don’t know for sure, but my mind is open and the clues are exciting.”
“But you suspect.” The prince played with his food a little more, rubbing the flat bread between his fingers and letting its crumbs fall back to his plate.
Matt shrugged. “The wellspring was purported to be the last remnants of the floodwater that the Ark rested in. I suspect that there will be something there, but whether or not it has anything to do with extending life or health is another matter. However, some other group certainly believes there is something there as we have been dogged by assassins along our journey.” Matt leaned forward on his elbows. “This group of people are eradicating clues as fast as we can find them. Sometimes before we even get to them. I’d have to say they’re a step ahead of us most of the time.”
The prince grunted. “They won’t trouble you here.” His head turned briefly to Khaled. “My nephew tells me there were – strange things living in the bodies. That you believe may play a part in extending life.”
Matt was glad that Rachel was sitting many seats away, as he guessed that Khaled had already shared all the information they had told him about the chemical analysis and their suspicions about the tiny organisms they had found in the body of the priest.
“We are not sure about the link, but we think they may have something to do with…”
“Immortality.” The prince sat back, smiling.
“I don’t know if it was that. Best if we don’t get ahead of ourselves.”
“But I do.” The prince chortled and turned to Khaled. “And he wonders why there are some who would kill to hide this secret? Its value is beyond calculation.” He reached out and placed a hand on Matt’s forearm. “My nephew will accompany you on your immortality quest, and for protection you will also take some of my most trusted people with you.”
Khaled smiled. “Ex-Special Forces commandos – all former Airborne Brigade.”
Matt knew of them, the Saudi equivalent of SEALS.
“That’s very kind of you, but…”
The prince held up a finger, and then leaned closer to Khaled for a rapid whispered conversation. The younger man listened and then nodded. The prince turned back. “Khaled will also organize some scientific specialists to support you. Anything you need, you will now have.”
“Thanks, but…” Matt held up a hand, desperate to regain control. He knew Rachel would go crazy if she thought the Saudi was overwhelming them.
The prince knocked once on the table. “Then it’s settled.”
Matt sighed and slumped back in his chair. All that was left was to try and explain it to Rachel – fuck that – he’d leave it to Khaled.
From then on, Prince Najif largely ignored him. Perhaps having got what he wanted, information and placing more of his men on their mission, he was satisfied.
Dinner marched on – a pianist performed perfect Bach pieces that were followed by a well-rounded belly dancer that elicited a lot of admiration from the men around the table. Matt watched intently for a while, and then glanced at Rachel who looked bored. He just shrugged and smiled, hopefully imparting a when in Rome sort of vibe, but her expression told him she was having none of it.
By the end of the night, Khaled helped the prince to his feet, and then the huge bodyguard took over to guide the old man from the room. The other guests then also got to their feet and began to break into smaller groups. Khaled and Matt then rejoined Rachel and Eleanor.
Khaled walked them toward the door. “It’s late, and I think we’d all benefit from some sleep. Shall I call on you tomorrow? Say 9 am? We can plan our next steps.”
Matt looked at his wristwatch. It was just on 11 pm. “Works for me. I can get a few laps in before breakf
ast.”
Khaled gave them both a small bow. “Thank you for being so understanding. The ways of the kingdom are still old fashioned and your patience is very much appreciated.” He flashed his most dashing smile.
Rachel sighed. “Yeah, it’s fine; everyone was charming, in a men’s club kind of way.”
Khaled nodded once and then turned toward his long black car. The driver immediately jumped out and came around to open his door.
“Until tomorrow.” He allowed the driver to close the door on him.
Matt watched him go, and then felt something land on the forearm of his jacket and cling there.
He jumped. “Jesus.” He looked down, ready to vigorously brush the offending thing off. But instead of some sharp-legged beetle, he saw a bony hand. Greta had soundlessly pushed Eleanor out from the shadows.
“Damned Arabs,” she hissed in the direction of the disappearing limousine.
Matt winced and quickly looked around, hoping that they weren’t in earshot of any of the locals.
The old woman wasn’t finished. “If it wasn’t for their oil, we wouldn’t give a shit if they all blew themselves up or not.”
“Um, did you have a good night, Mrs. van Helling?” Matt patted her hand and then carefully levered it from his arm.
“No, the person I was sat next to spoke English like a bad New York cab driver – incomprehensible!” She looked up at him, suspicion in her eyes. “What did he say – the prince?”
Matt shrugged. “He just asked a lot of questions. He was interested in finding out a little more about the source of the wellspring, and whether it was true or not.” He shrugged. “Things we just don’t know yet.”
“I’ll goddamn bet he was interested. Once we’ve seen the map, we should just all leave. I don’t trust him.”
Matt smiled and held a hand up to their driver, who nodded and came around to open the door for them. “Khaled’s okay though, and we need his help.” He shrugged. “Besides, we trust him.”
“You trust him,” Rachel said.
Eleanor grunted. “About time you said something agreeable.” She looked toward her car.
“Greta.”