Stephen Molstad - [ID4- Independence Day 03]

by War in the Desert (epub)

  It looked like Faisal might make trouble for Khalid after all.

  Maybe for Reg as well, since he’d loudly urged Khalid to disobey the orders to attack. The two men exchanged a tense look before Reg continued up the stairs.

  “I’ll put in a good word for you,” he said.

  Once he was above the crowd, Reg scanned the partygoers, looking for Thomson. The colonel’s diplomatic skills would’ve come in very handy right about then, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Reg’s eyes fell on a tall, veiled woman standing near the doors. Despite her coverings, he knew instantly that it was Fadeela. Standing with a group of women, she raised her glass ever so slightly in a clandestine toast. Reg smiled conspira-torially as he reached the top of the stairs.

  “Your Majesty, may I present Major Cummins of the British Royal Air Force.”

  Reg had never met a king before and didn’t know what he was supposed to do. After running his fingers through his hair, he did the same thing he would have done upon meeting the queen of England. He knelt down and bowed his head.

  The king’s broad grin erupted into a belly laugh. When Reg looked up, everyone around him was laughing, too. Mrs. Roeder joined Reg at floor level and blinked.

  “There’s really no need for that, Major. In this country, people consider the king their equal. A simple handshake would be appropriate.”

  Chagrined, Reg got to his feet. Obviously there was no harm done because the king put his arm around Reg like he was part of the family and introduced him to eight or ten of his brothers, nephews, and advisors. The patriarch of the al-Saud clan was well into his seventies, a tall thin man who was a little unsteady on his feet but mentally very sharp. He offered Reg a chair.

  “Commander Faisal informs me,” the king began with a twinkle in his eye, “that you were a great hero today. That you rallied the foreign forces on our soil and led them capably in the battle.”

  “I did what I could,” Reg replied, shooting a glance at Faisal.

  “No, no. It is not a time for false modesty. If Faisal tells me it is so, it is so. And he tells me that without you, our Holy City would have come to ruin. For this we can never thank you properly. We al-Sauds are the custodians of Mecca, and it is a responsibility we take very seriously. You have given us a very great gift in helping to save Mecca from these godless invaders, and it is my plan to reward you handsomely.”

  Reg’s ears perked up. When the king of Saudi Arabia, one of the wealthiest men in the world, used the words “reward you handsomely,” he wasn’t talking about a gold watch and a weekend in Bahrain.

  “There is no need to decide now. Think about it for a day or two and decide what you would like to have. If it is within our power, it shall be done.”

  Reg surprised himself by immediately glancing toward Fadeela. “That's very generous. I’ll give it some thought,” he said. “Can I ask why you didn’t want to see Khalid Yamani? He deserves as much thanks as I do.”

  The expression on the old man’s face instantly soured. “Karnak Yamani has long been a valuable and beloved servant of ours. He has done much to enrich the people of our country, but his son, Khalid, has brought him nothing but shame and grief. Faisal has told me Khalid was a student of yours.”

  “That’s right,” Reg said. “He’s also a friend.”

  “I see,” said King Ibrahim, with obvious displeasure. But my offer to you is still good. You will be rewarded for your bravery just as Khalid Yamani will be punished for his cowardice.” “Cowardice?” Without meaning to, Reg scoffed at the king’s words. “Without Khalid we might not have succeeded today. He should get as much credit as anyone. He showed more courage than some of your other pilots.” Again, Reg glanced pointedly at Faisal.

  The king’s eyebrows arched, and his face iced over. He exchanged a few words with Faisal before turning back to Reg, explaining a little history to him in a chilly tone.

  “I am told you were a pilot during the Gulf War and that you made a rather serious and costly mistake, is this right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Reg admitted, suddenly quieter. Every high-ranking Saudi knew about Reg’s “mistake.”

  “In that same war, your friend Khalid Yamani also made a very grave mistake. Yours was an error of judgment made under Ihe stress of battle. And I understand your superiors have forgiven you.” That was partially true. “But Lieutenant Yamani’s error was made in calmness. His heart, I am afraid, is corrupted w ii h the poison of”—he turned to one of his assistants for a translation—“poisoned with malice and jealousy.”

  Faisal leaned forward and explained. “He accused me of lying and of cowardice. He said I was not the one who repulsed the attack of the Iraqi national guard. It was a serious matter to do so,” he said in a threatening way that implied Reg would be wise not to make the same mistake. “But, because of the great standing and reputation of his father, he was spared from the punishment lie deserved. Today he ran from the battle and disobeyed my orders. This time there can be no mercy.”

  “Mercy? Mercy?” Reg asked, getting visibly angry. “Why should he need your mercy?” Mrs. Roeder quickly put a firm hand on Reg’s shoulder to remind him where he was, but it didn’t do much good. He yelled past the king at Faisal. “You ordered those men to their deaths when you could have waited. Khalid was right to disobey that order. I would have done the same thing.”

  Faisal turned to the king. “You see, even the foreign pilots clearly understood my orders.”

  Without meaning to, Reg had further incriminated Khalid. The king stood up to show that the interview was over. “Tonight is a time for celebrating. We are here to rejoice in our victory. We will handle this unpleasant business at a future time. I am sorry to have detained you for such a long while, I’m certain you have friends and comrades you wish to greet more than a tiresome old man. Mr. and Mrs. Roeder, please invite Major Cummins to the events tomorrow and make sure he has everything he needs.” He smiled warmly and clasped Reg’s hands in his own. “Once again, we thank you most humbly.”

  Reg stood up, but wasn’t quite ready for this royal audience to end. He already knew what he wanted as his handsome reward:

  He wanted Khalid to be fully exonerated. But the Roeders each took one of his elbows and firmly guided him toward the stairs.

  “Take a tip?” Mr. Roeder asked. “Don’t raise your voice to anyone in the royal family. Doesn’t usually work out in your favor.”

  “Major, if you don’t have any plans for tomorrow, please come out to the spaceship with us,” Mrs. Roeder said in one ear.

  “The king is heading out there in the morning with a huge entourage,” her husband said in the other.

  Reg looked surprised. “The spaceship? Aren’t you worried about survivors?”

  “We’re hoping for survivors.” Mrs. Roeder blinked. “The king wants his picture taken with some of them. You know, standing there with his boot on their necks and his sword raised in the air. Something to boost morale while the country’s getting back on its feet.”

  “But more importantly,” Mr. Roeder went on, “how are we going to learn about them if there aren’t any survivors. We’ve got to make these suckers talk. Find out where they came from and why they did this to us.”

  “Exactly. The king has already called some translation experts in from Switzerland.”

  “They’re mathematicians and biologists mainly,” Mr. Roeder said, glancing at his watch. “People who might be able to figure out how to communicate with the aliens.”

  “Not that the Saudis don’t know how to interrogate a prisoner, you understand, but this is a unique situation. They’re arriving tonight.”

  “I hope you’ll come tomorrow. There’s going to be film crews, foreign ambassadors, and lots of the royals. It should be interesting. A real historic-moment type of situation.”

  “Also, that would be the perfect time to ask for your reward from the king, so we could get pictures of the whole thing. It'd save us from having to set up a separate ceremony.�
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  “Well, it was sure nice to meet you. All you pilots are being housed in the guest quarters on the far side of the pool. Looks like a French chateau, you can’t miss it. Very luxurious. You’ll love it.” Then they hurried away to take care of other business.

  Reg searched the party, looking for Khalid and Thomson. If the colonel had the tape, it would be enough to make Faisal back off. It contained the proof of his cowardice during the dogfight.

  Reg found Tye instead and enlisted his help. The two of them searched the extensive grounds of the royal compound. As they hunted through the gardens, checking the various gazebos and greenhouses, they passed a large gaggle of strolling Saudi women.

  “Babe alert,” Tye said out of the side of his mouth. “Check out those sexy veils!” But as they passed by, it was the women who did the checking out. The black-gowned figures surrounded the men, sizing them up, and offering opinions on their manly attributes.

  “How handsome this one is.”

  “I like the other one. Cute, la?”

  “Not enough muscle. I think he will blow away in a strong breeze.”

  One of them stepped forward and, although it was dark, Reg knew who it was beneath the dark headcloth. She complimented him.

  “He is handsome, brave, and unafraid of women. Why don’t we have more Saudi men like this one?”

  When Reg took her by the arm and pulled her aside, the other women gasped at his forwardness.

  “Major Cummins,” Fadeela protested, “every garden has a thousand eyes. This is not a safe place for us to talk.”

  “Listen, Fadeela, I’ve got something important to tell you.” He paused to consider how he should break the news. It was just long enough to give her the wrong idea.

  “There is a rumor,” she said, “that the king will reward you with whatever your heart desires. If you are going to ask my advice about choosing a Saudi bride, I can recommend a very lovely and talented young woman.”

  “That’s not it,” he broke in. “Khalid’s in trouble. Serious trouble, I think.”

  “What has he done now?” she asked, suddenly serious. “Today, in the air, Faisal ordered his men to attack the destroyer before the shields came down. It was a stupid order, and all the men who obeyed it are dead now. Your brother broke away with a few others. I think it was common sense, but the king is calling it treason. He also mentioned that Khalid did something like this before, that he crossed Faisal during the Gulf War.” “Where is my brother now?”

  “We’ve looked everywhere for him. I think he might have run off somewhere.”

  “Faisal will be the ruin of my family yet! He is more treacherous than the aliens who tried to destroy us!” She sat down on a garden bench and put her head in her hands.

  “What happened before?”

  “According to my brother, Faisal ordered an attack on a few Iraqi jets flying inside their own borders. They shot the planes down and then flew home, where Faisal created an elaborate story about facing down a large group of bombers. It was all designed to turn him into a hero. When Khalid went to his superiors, he was told to keep his mouth shut so he wouldn’t embarrass the Saudi army. It was my brother’s word against Faisal’s and that of his henchmen. I must go and find my father. He will be forced to bargain with this evil man for my brother’s amnesty.”

  “I may be able to help,” Reg said.

  “This is a Saudi matter now,” Fadeela said. “No outsiders will be allowed to speak at the trial.”

  “I won’t need to speak. I can give Khalid something to use against Faisal.” Then he told her about the recording.

  “Not only is he handsome and brave and unafraid of women, he is very clever as well.”

  Just then, a messenger arrived. He was one of Fadeela’s nephews, who spoke to her urgently in Arabic.

  “They’ve arrested Khalid at the airport,” she told Reg. “He was trying to escape in his plane. They’re bringing him back to stand trial tonight. The king is very angry.” As she and her friends hurried away toward the palace, she turned and called back to

  Reg. “Please bring us the recording. My brother’s life may depend on it.”

  “Did you see that?” Tye asked when the women had gone. “I was only about sixty-five virgins short of paradise.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Back to the airfield. We’ve got to find Thomson.”

  Standing at the edge of the runway, they watched as the two C-l 30s landed, then kept careful eyes on the gangplanks as the passengers disembarked to the cheers of the crowd. It was past midnight, and the crowds were thinning, but there were still a lot of people out there. Thomson was nowhere to be seen. Reg approached a man with a familiar face, the burly Saudi captain who had treated them so roughly the day before. Reg was a little apprehensive about talking to him again, and was surprised when the big man turned to him with a smile and lifted him off the ground in a bear hug. When asked if he’d seen Thomson, the captain looked around him, surprised that the British lieutenant colonel wasn’t among the disembarking passengers.

  “Everyone wants to find this little man,” he said.

  “Who else?” Reg asked.

  “I don’t know. Some soldiers who arrived with the transport planes,” he said. “They were looking everywhere for him.” “Some of Faisal’s men?”

  The captain didn’t know.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Tye asked. “That Faisal’s covering his trail?” Reg didn’t answer, but it certainly looked that way.

  By the time they drove back to the palace, Khalid’s trial was almost over. It was being held in the king’s quarters on the second floor of the palace. Guards had been posted at the bottom of the main stairway to ensure privacy. Nevertheless, a steady stream of soldiers and members of the royal family passed back and forth through the cordon, delivering news to those waiting on the main floor. Most of the guests, including the pilots, had gone off to bed or to more private parties. A somber mood

  had settled over the fifty or so people who were still there.

  One of the Saudi royal princes approached Tye and Reg, eager to share what he knew.

  “That fool Khalid Yamani told them everything. He should have remained humble and silent and begged for mercy. But instead he became angry and accused Faisal of stupidity and cowardice. Now they will be harder on him.”

  “How hard?”

  “Usually these things are settled with money, and the Yama-nis are rich,” the prince said, “but they were lenient with Khalid the last time. This time the penalty will almost certainly be death.”

  Reg tried to persuade the guards at the base of the stairs that he had important evidence to present at the trial, but they wouldn’t allow him to pass. Frustrated with his helplessness, he spotted Mrs. Roeder pacing the balcony, talking into her headset. He caught her attention, and she signaled she’d be right there. In the meantime, Fadeela arrived, escorted by her nephew and a few of her veiled friends.

  “Major Cummins, you are just in time, thanks be to Allah. Where is the tape?”

  “The man who made the tape wasn’t on the plane back from the Empty Quarter. I’m still looking for him. I’m sorry.”

  Fadeela made a sound as if she’d been wounded.

  “What can I do for you, Major?” asked Mrs. Roeder, coming down the stairs.

  He asked her to speak with the king and try to persuade him to delay the sentencing until Thomson could be found. She blinked back at him.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said in that breezy, American way that meant he was asking for the impossible.

  Fadeela walked past Reg and took hold of Mrs. Roeder’s arm, pulling her closer and whispering something to her. Then she removed one of the ruby rings from her finger and pressed it into the American woman’s palm. Mrs. Roeder hurried up the stairs into the room where the trial was being held.

  “If only we could find Thomson,” Reg said to Fadeela with a worried look. “I’m
afraid something might have happened to him: Faisal has every reason to want that tape as badly as we do.” One of the guards barked a warning, reminding them it was forbidden for them to speak to one another. Reg fixed him with a stare, daring him to enforce the rule. The soldier backed off.

  “Major Cummins,” Fadeela began quietly, “you have been of great service to my family, and I appreciate everything you have done. I believe you tried your best, and I wish things had turned out differently. Good-bye, and thank you again.”

  She turned away from him and surrounded herself with her friends. Reg didn’t know what she was talking about, but it didn’t take long for him to find out. Faisal came striding out of the king’s quarters and hurried down the stairs. In spite of their previous encounter, he greeted Reg warmly. He looked relaxed and, as usual, supremely confident.

  “What do you know about Thomson?” Reg said in a not-so-friendly tone. “He wasn’t on either one of the planes coming back from the camp, and he was seen talking to some of your men before he disappeared.”

  A look of concern spread across Faisal’s face. “Yes, I learned a few moments ago that he was not aboard the evacuation flight. I have been waiting to see him myself. I believe he made an audio record of today’s battle, which I would like very much to play for the king. It confirms Khalid Yamani’s guilt. I hope nothing has happened to Colonel Thomson. He is an excellent man.”

  “You know as well as I do that tape would ruin you. How convenient that it didn’t show up.”

  “I’m confident that it will, eventually.”

  Fadeela came to the stairs and spoke to Faisal in Arabic. Whatever she said put a smile on his face. They said a few things back and forth, none of which Reg could understand, before she lifted her veil away from her face. This shocked the people around them but delighted Faisal, who laughed in recognition. For the second time in as many days, he had seen this beautiful woman’s naked face. An elderly man standing nearby was not amused. When he saw the maiden exposing herself in the company of men, he used his walking stick to strike her hard across the back of her legs and yelled at her. Reg grabbed the old man and pulled him roughly away from Fadeela.