He said, “Very well, Charles. I’ll tell you what I’ve heard. Yes, Kessler and Stride are together again, but by all accounts they’d like nothing more than to settle down and try to live in peace.”
“Well, it’s not as if they’ve bought a Bed & Breakfast in Vermont. They’ve…” Haskell caught himself. He quickly switched gears. He asked, “Why the speakers of Arabic?”
“That part makes no sense. Stride herself is fluent in Arabic. If you’re asking are they plotting some grand scheme against the Saudis, I think I can assure you that they’d have no interest. Kessler avoids that part of the world and Stride has had quite enough of it.”
“Well, Kessler’s plotting something. What else could it be?”
“Not your death. You’d already be dead.”
“What about Roger Clew, your Director of Intelligence?”
“What about him, Charles?”
“Has he been in touch with Kessler?”
“Charles… I’d have no way of knowing.”
“You wouldn’t? Clew reports to you, does he not?”
“He does. When I need to know something.”
“Need? Or choose?”
“Well, that would depend. But now that we’re clear on what I do and don’t know, what else can I do for you, Charles?”
Haskell felt his jaw tightening. He made an effort to control it. He said, “We can do a great deal for each other. Especially if you became a member of this club. I assume that you appreciate the many benefits thereof.”
Leland raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering to propose me?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.”
“I’m speechless. No, I’m not. I do have a question. I probably know at least three hundred members. Explain to me why I need you.”
“To apply? You don’t. To be accepted? You do.”
“You’re… saying, I take it, that you could have me blackballed. What a warm, cozy feeling that gives me.”
The media mogul spoke. “If I might butt in…”
Leland said to him, “Thank you, but I think I’ve got the picture.” He said, “Charles, I don’t often use indelicate language, but I think you should finish our walk by yourself. Find a nice quiet spot and go fuck yourself.”
Haskell’s head had turned before Leland finished speaking. He said, distractedly, “Wait. Hold that thought.”
His attention had been drawn to the edge of the lake. He’d heard the voice of the banker. “Put that away, damn it.” Haskell saw that both men had stripped down to their briefs, but that the prince had kept that stupid towel on his head. The banker had already waded in to his waist. The prince had held back, in only to his knees, and he had one hand under the towel. Haskell realized that the prince must be using his cell phone. He was probably returning that earlier call after being forbidden to do so.
Whatever the subject, it was clearly upsetting. The prince’s voice and his manner were anguished. The prince waved the banker off and turned back toward dry land with the banker now sloshing in pursuit. The prince’s voice rose in pitch; he was shouting in Arabic. Several heads at other fires were turning.
Haskell strode from the jetty toward the two men. He hissed to the banker, “Shut him up. Grab that phone.” The banker reached the prince and snatched the towel away. The prince lost his footing and fell backward. The banker pried the phone from his hand and turned to wade into deeper water. The prince splashed after him, but he was too late. The banker gave the cell phone a Frisbee-like toss and it plunked some fifty feet out. The prince, distraught, began wailing, but in English. He seemed to be trying to persuade the banker why he must have that now sunken phone. With one hand, he was stabbing at the eastern horizon, in the approximate direction of his homeland. With the other, he was tearing at his hair.
The banker got him to lower his voice, but the prince was no less distraught. The banker left him in the water and waded ashore where he bent to snatch up his clothing. Haskell called to him, “Well? What was that all about?”
The banker replied, while stepping into his trousers, “Family problems. Bad news from home.”
Haskell motioned the banker back up toward their fire. Howard Leland and the mogul joined him there.
“It’s his daughter,” said the banker, still dressing. “I knew that she’d run off. That was more than three months ago. Last he’d heard she’d got to France, safely out of the country. He’s had people looking for her ever since.”
Haskell asked, “That’s it? His cousin called him here for that? Run off how? You mean as in eloped?”
“On the contrary. She’d run off to avoid a forced marriage.”
Haskell nodded. Then to Leland, “To that cleric I mentioned.”
“The cousin,” said the banker, “is in charge of the search. He had enlisted the cleric and his heretic hunters. Are you familiar with the Hasheem? Well, apparently, the daughter’s now been traced to this country and she’s learned, don’t ask me how, that they’re hot on her trail. She’d already warned them against coming after her. She’d backed up the warning with some kind of threat. The prince has just learned that she’s made good on the threat. As you’ve seen, it got quite a reaction.”
“He didn’t say what is?”
“Only that he wishes he’d killed her at birth.”
“Young runaway Muslims,” said the media mogul. “There seems to be more and more of that lately. It’s on all the Islamic news wires. And not just daughters either. Wives as well. There’s some sort of prophecy making the rounds that’s emboldened them to kick up their heels.”
“A prophecy about what?”
“About Mohammed’s favorite wife. His warrior wife. It says that she will be, or has been, reborn. It says she’s coming back with a fiery sword to right the wrongs that have been done to Muslim women.”
“Actually,” said the mogul, “it’s not her with the sword. A female angel’s coming with her to protect her.”
Haskell tossed a hand. Fairy tales didn’t interest him. He could have done without the distraction. “This girl,” he asked, “how could she have gotten out? Saudi women can’t even leave their homes unescorted. How could this one have made it to France, let alone get into this country?”
Howard Leland answered, “They’ve been getting smuggled out. And it isn’t just lately; it’s been going on for years. There’s a sort of underground railroad that does it.”
The media mogul asked, “Is that the Nasreen Society?”
Leland nodded. “You know of it?”
“I’m in the news business.”
Leland said to Haskell, “The Nasreens are a Muslim feminist group. Not just advocates; they’re more like a spy ring. They provide safe houses, new identity papers to women who seek their assistance. Based in France, at first, but now they’re all over. They’ve resettled, I don’t know, perhaps a thousand young women. Most simply want the freedom to make their own lives, but quite a few have opted to join the Nasreens. I think we’re going to see a lot more of it.”
“All Saudis?” asked Haskell.
“By no means,” said the mogul, “although they top the list. Iran’s a close second. Pakistan’s next. Quite a few of them come from prosperous families. They must pay up the nose to get out.”
Leland shook his head. He said, “They needn’t be rich. The Nasreens pick and choose; they look for talent and ambition. Girls from wealthier families simply tend to be more restless. They’re better educated; some have traveled abroad and they’ve seen firsthand the opportunities elsewhere that have been denied them at home.”
“Not this one,” said the banker. “She’s never been anywhere. Except through whatever books she might have managed to get hold of. She’d be beaten if her father caught her reading them.”
“You’ve met her?” asked Leland.
“As a rule, one doesn’t meet Saudi women, but yes, I’ve seen her at his home. She and her mother would scurry from the room, covering their faces as I entered. From the way I’ve
seen him treat them; I’d have thought they were servants. I’ve seen him slap them both. Some minor housekeeping matter. He’d shame his wife in my presence for not giving him a son and his daughter for not being that son.”
Haskell shrugged. “Then one would think he’d be glad to be rid of her. It’s not as if they place much value on girls.”
“True, but this one,” said the banker, “has considerable value. She’s a minor princess, but a princess all the same. Any Saudi who isn’t a prince would pay dearly for the chance to marry into royal blood even if she’s as ugly as sin.”
“Is she?” asked Haskell.
“I’ve only glimpsed her face, but no, not at all. One might even call her… cute… if she ever smiled. Tiny little thing. Expressive eyes even when she kept them lowered. And she’s only fifteen. Her name is Rasha, by the way. That’s Arabic for gazelle. An apt name for a runaway, don’t you think?”
Haskell didn’t answer. He didn’t care what her name was. “It wasn’t the prince who backed out of the marriage. He’ll still keep his job, will he not?”
“Let’s just say he’d damned well better find her.”
The Saudi prince, while dressing, was still whimpering and whining. Haskell asked the banker, “What is he saying now?”
The banker cupped his hand to his ear. “Still cursing her mostly. He says that she’s ruined him.”
“Ruined what? His family honor by taking a powder?”
“That, too,” said the banker, “but I think more than that. He was calling her a thief because she took some things with her. She would certainly have taken any jewelry she owned plus whatever cash she’d been able to save up. But if that were all she took, he wouldn’t be this upset. I’m only catching a word here and there, but it sounds as if she’s been at his computer.”
“Insurance,” said Leland. “Business records and the like. Shady dealings in particular. She’d have copied them onto a disk.”
“You know this?” asked Haskell. He seemed suddenly alarmed.
“No, but I’d bet on it. All Nasreen clients are encouraged to do so, especially those whose fathers would harm them if found. Once out of the country, they would email their fathers. The message would say something like, ‘Here’s what I have. If you leave me in peace, no one else is going to see it. If you try to have me kidnapped or killed, the whole world will see it posted on the web.’”
Haskell frowned. He said, “So this kid knows computers.”
“Not surprising,” Leland told him. “Many thousands of them do. That’s how most of them have learned that there is another world and other more progressive schools of Islam. It’s also how they’ve learned about the Nasreens. It’s how they apply to be spirited out. It’s how the arrangements are made.”
“By e-mail?” asked Haskell. “Can’t the Saudis read their e-mail?”
Leland shook his head. He said, “Needle in a haystack. Besides, they use proxy servers, high speed multiple servers and such e-mails are encrypted in transit.”
“Wait a minute,” said Haskell. He turned to the banker. “You told me that the prince didn’t have one at home.”
“A computer? He doesn’t. Just the one on his desk at Saudi Charities.”
“Then where would the daughter learn to use a computer?”
“In school and… oh, dear.” The banker seemed stricken. “It’s his daughter who taught him how to use it in the first place. He would often bring Rasha to his office in Riyadh. He had her do all of his clerical work. She might know about those off-shore accounts.”
Haskell closed his eyes. “Go find out.”
The banker hurried down the shore to the Saudi. The Saudi stood rocking, his arms tightly folded. His whimpering had turned into wailing. Haskell watched as the banker tried to get him to speak. The Saudi managed a few fragmented sentences. Haskell saw the banker seize the Saudi by his shoulders and shake him to get him to spill it all out. Haskell knew that the problem must be serious indeed. One doesn’t put one’s hands on a Saudi prince even when no other Saudi is present.
The banker returned. His expression had paled. He said to Haskell, “Mr. Leland’s quite right. She did copy those files to a disk before she left. Her father did get one of those emails days later. He was afraid to tell us at the time.”
“His kid has what we have been trying to get?”
“All of it. The whole list of accounts. It must have been the daughter who found it in the first place. I’d always wondered how the prince with his… limited abilities… was able to get access to such files.”
Haskell made a fist. He pounded his palm. He asked Leland, “What will she do with it?”
“Nothing. I’ve told you. If he lets her go quietly.”
“But as you’ve heard,” said the banker, “she was still being hunted. And so – here’s the worst part – she got back in again. She went back in only this morning.”
“Back in to Saudi Charities? From where?”
“She got in remotely from wherever she is now. Remember, she’d have to have found all the passwords in order to get at them in the first place. Her father never changed them, not that he’d have known how. So now she’s changed those passwords. No one else can get in. Those accounts are effectively frozen.”
Haskell blinked. “No one else. You mean no one else but her?”
“As of this morning. It would seem so.”
“You’re telling me that this kid, this fifteen-year-old kid, can now help herself to ten billion dollars?”
“Very possibly, I’m afraid. As we speak.”
Leland said, “But she won’t. I can almost guarantee it. The Nasreens would not allow it. They don’t steal.”
“Not even from thieves?”
“They’re funded by donations, but not of this sort. They don’t want to be seen as extortionists.”
Haskell rubbed his chin. “You say it’s strictly insurance?”
“Insurance against honor killings and such. It’s also meant to protect any family or friends who may have abetted their departure.”
“So that money is safe? Those accounts are intact?”
“I’m not saying they wouldn’t be tempted,” said Leland. “Many of the Nasreens are Saudi women themselves. If they’ve seen the stashes of these larcenous princes and realize that they’re stolen from legitimate charities… in their place, I’d want to see justice done. I’d start by going public with the names of the thieves.”
Haskell leaned toward him. “But you’re not in their place. Would the Nasreens drop a dime on them or not?”
Leland considered letting Charles Haskell dangle. But he answered, “They would not. They’re honor bound.”
“You’re asking us to bet…”
“I’m not asking you a thing. You wanted my opinion. I gave it.”
The mogul touched Haskell’s arm. “And I’m inclined to accept it. If the Nasreens have had that disk for three months, Howard’s right; they would have gone public by now.”
The banker said, “We have a much more immediate problem. Those Saudis will be swarming all over that office when they learn that their accounts have been blocked.”
“But you say she only did that this morning?”
“So we’re told.”
“And it’s the weekend. The office would be closed.”
The banker shook his head. “The Saudi work week starts on Sunday. But anyone who’s tried to log in today would assume that it’s merely a malfunction. They’ll try again later. That’s when they’ll start to wonder. The real swarming wouldn’t start for several days.”
Haskell nodded. “Okay, that gives us a window. If you flew back tonight, could you fix this?”
A shrug. “Perhaps. If I could get at that computer. I have an excellent technician at my branch in Riyadh. Altered passwords are not insurmountable. But his daughter probably knows that as well. The Nasreens would have coached her. Getting in won’t be easy.”
“You won’t know until you try. Leave tonight
.”
“But we’d need the prince to get us into the building.”
“Of course, you will,” said Haskell. “Take him with you.”
“But… why would he let us get into those files? He’s dim, Charles, but he isn’t entirely witless. He’d know that we’d no longer need him.”
The mogul cleared his throat. “What we need is the daughter.”
Haskell said, “Yeah, I know. But one thing at a time.”
“Well,” said Leland, who was looking at his watch. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I think I’ll retire. I’m sure you’ll want to sort this out in private.”
Haskell held up a hand. He said to Leland, “Please wait.” He turned to the banker. “You say the prince doesn’t know how to use a computer?”
“My grandchildren know more than he does.”
“Then he still needs you. You’re his only hope. He’s a dead man once word gets out about this. Tell him, ‘Trust us or we hang you out to dry.’”
The banker agreed. “My plane’s in Sacramento. It’s kept fueled and ready. We can be in Riyadh tomorrow afternoon, their time. My technician will meet us; we can get right to work. But as I’ve said…”
“I heard you,” said Haskell. “Keep him scared. He’ll fold. We’ll see what we can do on this end.”
“While you’re there,” said the mogul, “get a photo of the daughter. Full face, if you can find one. No headscarf.”
With a nod, the banker turned and walked toward the shore. The prince saw him coming. He dropped to his knees. Hands clasped, he was begging the banker to help him. Haskell said to Leland, “Good start.”
Haskell saw the banker pull the prince to his feet. He was trying to calm him. To reassure him. Haskell muttered, “Wrong. Let him grovel.”
The banker realized that Haskell was watching. He sharpened his tone. Whatever he was saying made the prince shake his head. He squealed, “They will arrest me. I cannot.” The banker replied, “You have one chance. One day. You won’t do it? Very well. Then we’re finished with you.” He started up the path toward their cabin. The prince looked up at Haskell, his hands clasped as before. Haskell made a show of turning his back. Leland watched as the prince began to stagger about, looking this way and that as if for help. Finding none, he ran after the banker.
The Aisha Prophecy Page 8