Arab Summer

by David Lender

  “Secret Police?” he asked.

  “No, but men hired by the royals.”

  The man nodded as if he understood. He slid the cigarette back into the pack, put it in his pocket and motioned to her. “Follow me,” he said, and walked toward a door at the back of the house. Sasha didn’t move, trying to decide. “Hurry,” he said, and opened the door. She ran inside behind him. He pulled the door closed behind her without a sound. He raised a finger to his lips, and motioned with his head toward the hallway. She followed him into a small room with a desk and cot in it, then closed the door.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, in English with a British accent, extending his hand. “I’m Saif Ibn Mohammed al-Aziz.”

  She shook his hand. “Sasha Del Mira.” He motioned for her to sit on the cot and took a seat in a chair by the desk. He was good-looking, with high cheekbones, sharp features and curly brown hair. He had no beard, uncharacteristic of most Arab men, and wore a white button-down Oxford shirt and Levis. “Your English is excellent,” she said.

  “Thank you. I went to university in England. Eton.” He seemed proud of it. “We should keep our voices down. I don’t want my parents to hear. It isn’t considered proper in Saudi Arabia for a man and woman who don’t know each other to be alone in the same room.”

  “I’ve been here long enough to know.” She smiled. “And I also know it’s against Islamic law to smoke cigarettes.”

  He smiled back. “A small luxury I picked up at university.” He slid the pack out of his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. “You mind?”

  “I’m hardly in a position to object. Thank you again for helping me.”

  He lit his cigarette. “No trouble. Why were those men chasing you?”

  “Let’s just say that one of the wives of a prominent Saudi prince had reason to be angry with me, and was doing everything in her power to assure that I stayed out of town.”

  Saif chuckled. “Ah, yes, the allure of the Western woman. I caught that bug myself in England.”

  Sasha relaxed, relieved. She’d slipped the story past him with a smirk.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “I’m asking myself the same thing.”

  “I assume you live in Riyadh. What brought you there?”

  Sasha felt a twist of discomfort. She’d never been ashamed of anything she’d done in her life, but didn’t think telling Saif she was a concubine to a member of the royal family was a good idea right now. Particularly since she’d shot that family member through the heart the night before. “I’ve had some odd jobs. Work as a domestic, some work in hotels. Nothing particularly interesting.” He didn’t react, but didn’t push her for more. She said, “Mind if I ask why you helped me? You took a risk if it had been the Secret Police after me.”

  His features hardened. “If it had been the Secret Police, I would have done the same thing. They’re simply an extension of the royals. And I’ve had my own problems lately with the royals.” He waved an arm around the room. “You see this room? It’s my study now. It used to be the servants’ quarters. A married man and woman. That was when my father’s business was flourishing. My father built one of the most respected and profitable companies in Saudi Arabia importing oil drilling equipment and supplies. Three decades of firmly entrenched client relationships. But in the last year, while I was away at my final semesters at university, his business took a dramatic downturn.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Saudi royals have been moving in on any industry that happens to be unusually profitable. A number of Saudi princes set up their own oil equipment importing businesses and leaned on my father’s customers. Many of them came to my father almost in tears, insisting they had no choice but to move their business to the newly established royal family companies. Otherwise they themselves would have been driven out of business.”

  Sasha saw that Saif’s face had fallen, the energy seeming to drain from him as he spoke.

  “That’s awful,” she said, leaning forward on the cot. She thought of Yassar and the research he was doing at his Finance and Economy Ministry, trying to understand and adapt to the influx of foreign workers willing to accept low wages that were soaking up any available jobs and leaving Saudis out of work. She’d also heard him talk many times about the Saudi merchant class being squeezed out, and realized Saif’s father’s predicament must be what he had been talking about. Thinking about Yassar brought her back to her own predicament. For the moment she was safe, but where would she go? Getting back to Riyadh was something she could manage, but where to go from there? And what about what Nibmar and Ali were planning? She started turning it over in her mind again.

  Sasha saw Saif observing her. She imagined he’d had his share of girls at Eton, and she could see him checking her out. He stubbed out his cigarette. “Where did you just go?” he asked.

  “I was just thinking about what you said about your father’s company. And then about a man I know who’s talked about that issue.”

  He cocked his head, looking skeptical, and said, “What’s the real reason those people were chasing you?”

  She sat up straight. “I told you.”

  “I saw how you tensed when I asked you what brought you to Saudi Arabia. Plus, your answer doesn’t make sense. A Western woman, well-spoken, sophisticated, and obviously well-educated, with pampered skin and perfectly manicured fingernails. You’re not someone who landed in Saudi Arabia by accident, or who does odd jobs.”

  She allowed herself a subtle smile. “Thank you, that’s very flattering, really, but what I’ve told you is true.”

  He laughed. “You’re not a domestic and you’re certainly not a hotel worker.”

  Now she sized him up, wondering if she could trust him. “Okay,” she said. “So what if I’m not here working as a domestic? What good would it do either you or me if I were to tell you why those men are chasing me?”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Tell me. If I was looking to turn you in, wouldn’t I have just allowed those men to capture you?”

  She didn’t answer, considering it.

  He said, “Oh, come on, this is getting silly. I heard you coming from across the street, saw you take that fence without breaking stride, even in that abaya, then watched you looking around with eyes that were trained for it. I can believe that someone, maybe even a Saudi prince’s wife, had you transported here from Riyadh, but your story doesn’t add up.”

  Sasha stared at him, keeping her expression blank, listening.

  He went on. “So if I’m right, at the moment you’re trying to figure out what to do, where to go.” He raised his hands. “And don’t worry about me. I don’t pose any threat. I’m not the biggest fan of the royals right now, so whatever you have in mind I’m not going to try to stop you, and maybe I can even help you. And that’s an offer you should think about, hard. Because if you’ve been involved with the royals, you’re not exactly in friendly territory. For all practical purposes, these northern Shiite provinces might as well be a completely different country.”

  Finally she spoke. “Have you ever heard of the al-Mujari?”

  “I’ve been in England for most of the last four years, not on Mars.”

  “It’s not just the royals I’m in trouble with. It’s also the al-Mujari.”

  “Keep going.”

  “So if you were to agree to help me, you might be getting yourself into more than you’d planned. I’ve been thinking about it and I may need to find one of the senior al-Mujari people before the people that brought me here can get to him.”

  “You mean one of the senior al-Mujari guys who’s still alive, don’t you?”

  Now Sasha narrowed her eyes. She said, “I understand there was some excitement up here in Buraida last night.”

  “You might say that. A dozen senior al-Mujari guys killed in coordinated hits. I hear you had some of the same excitement down in Riyadh, too. The locals are blaming the royals, but
the more knowledgeable are saying it was the American CIA. Would you happen to know anything about that, Western woman?”

  “Ever heard of a man named Khalid? How about Abdul and Waleed?”

  Saif arched his head back as if he’d been caught off guard.

  CHAPTER 8

  SASHA WAS UNCOMFORTABLE CONCEALING THE entire truth from Saif, especially since he agreed to help her. Still, she’d told him almost everything, except the nature of her true relationship with Yassar, allowing Saif to believe she was Yassar’s concubine, and completely leaving out anything about Ibrahim, and her knowledge of and participation in the hits last night. She allowed Saif to assume it was her role as concubine to Yassar that had resulted in Nibmar’s decision to kidnap her and bring her to Buraida. Sasha explained that she’d overheard Nibmar and her men, while they thought she was still unconscious, discuss some mysterious business they would conduct with Khalid.

  “Khalid is hiding in a building next to a mosque about five blocks from here,” Saif said, “but you’ll never find it by yourself. I’ll show you.”

  “How long have you known Khalid?” she asked while they were driving north.

  “A while. Everyone who’s critical of the royals in Buraida knows him, and Abdul and Waleed. And that’s not an exclusive club.” A minute later he said, “That’s it up the street.” He’d stopped his car about 100 meters from a bedraggled-looking mosque set between simple stucco and brick buildings. “Here, you might need this.” He held out a pistol.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Don’t look so surprised. You’re in Buraida.”

  Sasha took the gun and checked it. A Ruger 9mm. She racked the slide, then nodded to him, feeling her heartbeat increasing. “Thank you,” she said. Saif nodded back. She got out of the car and started across the street toward the mosque. Saif drove off. Sasha walked toward the mosque. When she neared it she knelt down behind a car and checked her surroundings. She felt her fingers tingling, getting anxious. She closed her eyes and willed herself to calm down, then stood. She saw she was standing behind a Chevy Suburban. She thought she saw movement in the front passenger seat inside, and knelt back down. What are the odds? But why not? This was where they were headed.

  Sasha sneaked up the driver’s side of the Suburban. When she reached the rear door, she eased her head up to peek inside. Sasha felt adrenaline flood through her. Nibmar was sitting in the passenger seat, alone in the vehicle. Sasha felt inside her abaya and grabbed the Ruger. Her heart was knocking as she crept forward, and in one smooth motion opened the driver’s side door and jumped into the seat, holding the pistol in Nibmar’s face.

  “Don’t move, don’t say anything,” Sasha said.

  Nibmar’s eyes showed fear, then she collected herself, raised her chin and scowled. She took a long moment to turn her head to look over at the building next to the mosque, then back at Sasha, as if to say, I’m not alone.

  Sasha said, “In your dreams. You’re dealing with me now.”

  “A dead woman. Or should I say, dead whore.”

  Sasha smacked her across the face. “I don’t care if you live or die, but I need you to listen to me for a few minutes.” Nibmar gritted her teeth and scowled again. Sasha hit her in the face with the Ruger, then grabbed her by the throat with her free hand and put the muzzle of the handgun against Nibmar’s cheek. “I’ll shoot you here, then go inside and blast Ali’s brains out if you want. Or you can listen to me. Your choice. How do you want to play this?”

  Nibmar nodded, her eyes wide.

  “Good.” Sasha released her hand from Nibmar’s throat. “What are you doing here?”

  Nibmar froze, silent.

  “Okay, let’s take this one step at a time. Why did you bring me here?”

  Nibmar smiled. “To let them rape and kill you.”

  “And what else?”

  Nibmar raised her chin again. Sasha smashed her across the face with the pistol a second time.

  “Whore!” Nibmar screamed, spitting blood.

  Sasha’s pulse was now thundering in her ears. She pressed the Ruger to Nibmar’s forehead. “Tell me or I’ll kill you.”

  Nibmar glared back at her. “You don’t have the nerve.”

  “I did last night with Ibrahim.” Sasha grabbed her by the throat again, held the Ruger to her forehead and cocked the hammer. Nibmar shut her eyes and Sasha felt her go limp.

  “Murderous whore, you want me to betray my own son.”

  “Is Ali inside?” She pressed the Ruger harder against her forehead. Sasha felt Nibmar start to tremble, her face going white.

  “He and our men are inside the building next to the mosque, dealing with this al-Mujari amateur.” Nibmar opened her eyes, defeat in them. “He refused to deal with a woman.” Then her eyes showed fire again. “If you harm Ali, I promise you will be raped in hell.”

  “I already have, bitch. I slept with your son for three years.” Sasha’s anger was rising. Smashing Nibmar in the face with the gun wasn’t enough. Sasha wanted to crush her will. “Let me tell you about betrayal. I killed Ibrahim because he betrayed Yassar. Your beloved Yassar, his own father. These al-Mujari scum worked on Ibrahim for years, twisted his mind, even while he was at Harvard. I saw it myself. Those worms Abdul and Waleed even showered him with cocaine, got him hooked—”

  “Drugs? That’s a lie!”

  Sasha went on, the gun still pressed to her forehead. “Finally they seduced him by promising he’d be ruler of Saudi Arabia after the al-Mujari took control. The price of entry was to murder Yassar. That’s why I killed him, the pig.”

  Sasha didn’t get the reaction she thought: Nibmar leered at her. “You are more of an idiot than I had assumed. And you obviously think me a fool. A fool who’s content to be pushed aside by three younger wives, and relegated to managing my sons’ harems when I could be the mother of the ruler of Saudi Arabia.”

  “So you knew Ibrahim was going to kill Yassar?”

  “My husband is soft. It is within his grasp to rule, but he is too self-effacing to force his cousins aside to accomplish it. I did not marry him to settle for mediocrity.”

  Sasha felt a blast of shock. “So you helped the al-Mujari with their plans?”

  “Don’t be naive. The plan regarding Ibrahim was my idea.”

  “How could you choose between your husband and your son?”

  “Life is choice, hard decisions forced upon us by impossible situations. I have always adapted and made the best of them.”

  “You’re more of a monster than I thought.”

  “You’re obviously not a mother or you wouldn’t say that. Particularly not an Islamic mother.”

  “And now Ali is inside there cutting his own deal with Khalid.”

  Nibmar glowered. “There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll be dead before he becomes ruler of Saudi Arabia.”

  Sasha was appalled. She wanted to pistol-whip her again. She looked Nibmar in the eye, forced her head against the window, the gun still pressed against her forehead, made a decision. Then she heard footsteps and men’s voices in the street and changed her mind. She opened the door and ran into the shadows across the street.

  Sasha got lost on the way back to Saif’s house, because she kept doubling back to make certain she wasn’t being followed. As she finally found her bearings and approached his house, she debated whether she should tell him everything. She decided she could trust him, given that he’d helped her and had even loaned her the gun. She tapped on the window to his study and moments later was sitting there with him.

  She told him about Yassar bringing her to Saudi Arabia three years earlier as Ibrahim’s concubine, her recruitment by the CIA to feed them information as Abdul and Waleed persuaded Ibrahim to join the al-Mujari, and finally about her role in killing Ibrahim as part of the CIA-coordinated hits the night before on the senior al-Mujari lieutenants.

  “I suspected there was more to your story.” He didn’t seem offended, just contemplative. “So what’s the bi
g draw with Yassar? That after killing Ibrahim you would risk everything to go back to him. Are you in love with him?”

  “Of course not. He’s in his 50s. I’m not even 20 yet. He’s like the only father I’ve ever known. I was raised as an orphan by a guardian. Yassar and she were friends, so I’ve known him almost all my life. That’s a bond we’ve cemented since he brought me to Saudi Arabia.”

  “Then if I were you I’d just go back to Riyadh and tell everything to Yassar.”

  “I’m afraid if I don’t do something to stop Nibmar and Ali immediately that it may be too late for Yassar. Besides, I’m sure Nibmar has figured out a way to have me killed if I set foot in the Royal Palace.”

  “So call him on the phone.”

  “I’m not sure that will protect him, and Nibmar is devious enough to have packaged a story to poison Yassar against me. I need to act, now.”

  “So what’s your plan? You can’t very well go back to Khalid’s hideout and storm the place with that pistol.”

  “I should have killed Nibmar when I had the chance.”

  “And then Ali? Sooner or later Yassar will get downright annoyed if you keep plunking his family members.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be funny. I’m trying to make you see how tenuous your situation is. It seems to me you don’t have much future here in Saudi Arabia, Yassar or no Yassar. Why not just call Yassar on the phone, tell him everything, hope for the best and get yourself to the American Embassy so your CIA guy can get you out of the country?”

  “That leaves Yassar exposed. You should have seen Nibmar when I was talking to her. She’s obsessed. And a sociopath. I think she’ll make a move immediately. The al-Mujari was ready before, and I assume they can get ready again, even though much of their top echelon was taken out yesterday. Their plans were already in place, and it looks like Khalid has stepped up to take charge of operations. And even if I were to go to Tom, I don’t think he could put together the resources to intervene that quickly. It took him at least a month to coordinate all the hits that occurred yesterday.”