“This is the Middle East. My intelligence bureau is the single most important branch of my government. Without it there would be no country as we know it. It is my bloodline,” he answered with a serious inflection in his voice.
“Exactly my point,” she reinforced her earlier inquiry. “So why would you waste your resources on an incident that has no influence on your country.”
“My lovely little Sandy,” he said with a grin. “I apologize if I have misled you. My agency was not the source of my fact finding mission.”
“Well then your Highness, where did you learn of the fire?”
He waited a moment before answering her. He was having a little fun letting her speculate as to who his source was.
“Well,” she inquired again.
His grin grew wider as he was about to answer when she put her hand up and motioned for him to stop speaking.
“Wait a minute,” she then said. “You’ve been speaking with my father, haven’t you? That’s where you happened upon this info.”
“You’ve always been a perceptive one,” confirming her suspicion. “Your father called me this morning to apologize for not being able to make the trip. He wanted to extend his best wishes to Fyad and his soon to be bride. Yet, I believe there was an alternative motive for the call.”
“He was checking up on me,” she stated.
“He did ask about you. I assured him you were in good hands. I promised to return you as quickly as possible.”
“I think you two are in cahoots with one another,” both of their smiles grew larger.
“Now you mention it. We did kindle a relationship when you and Fyad were away for that year. We talked regularly, encouraging each other that our pride and joy would be safely returned to us, undamaged.”
She knew they kept in touch but was surprised to learn the frequency. Her father never made reference to the friendship. When the King’s name was mentioned in a conversation he referred to him as an acquaintance. Someone you might cross paths with occasionally, but certainly not someone you have spoken to often. She would have to remember to discuss it with him when she returned home.
“I had no idea you two struck up such a close relationship,” she told the King.
There was a knock on the door. Strong, quick, three thumps. No one entered and the King did not acknowledge the interruption.
“That was my assistant. He strives to keep my day on a schedule. A losing cause if you ask me. But then again, I do have a country to run and a number of guests arriving who I need to welcome.”
“Well, I should let you get back to your duties,” she said standing up.
The King motioned for her to sit back down then said, “there are a couple of items I wish to discuss with you before we part ways.”
Sandy dropped back into the chair, but didn’t respond. She waited for him to continue.
“The first item I wish to discuss,” he went on, “is our precious annual Dubai World Cup. Would you speak to your father about registering an entry into the race next March? I have tried for years to entice him into partaking in our race. I’ve even offered transportation for your entry. As you know with a purse of ten million dollars it is the richest race in the world. We wish to complement the field with the very best thoroughbreds the world has to offer. You are in possession of many of the finest.”
“I will speak to him. I’m not without my persuasive tactics. I think the one we will need to convince is my husband and that, your highness, I can do. So, leave an opening on the race card.”
“Thank you. It means a great deal to me. I look forward to seeing your father's face when my horse beats his,” he chuckled.
“Ahmed, you said there were two things you would like to discuss with me,” she inquired as he seemed to be having so much fun with the first subject she felt he had forgotten the second.
“Yes, you are correct. After dinner this evening, I am planning a good old fashion card game in this very room. I know how much you enjoy poker. I want you to attend. There will be a number of Heads of States from the Middle East. You might find it interesting,” extending his invitation.
“I’m not sure some of your guests will appreciate a women sitting at their table,” she said knowing full well the hardliners would not be too pleased with her participating.
“I’m sure they will come around,” he said. “They might get upset when you start taking their money though. But it will be fine. I insist you attend.”
“Then it’s a date,” she accepted.
With that Sandy stood, offered her hand but the King again drew her with a hug. She went to her quarters to prepare for lunch and introductions to Fyad’s future bride.
As she made her way through the Palace, she witnessed a number of guests being escorted to their rooms, most with their own entourage of security. This was going to be the who’s who of the Middle East. Some of which were American friendly, some not so much.
The amount of Middle East intelligence that would be within the Palace walls for the next couple of days was irresistible. An intelligence agent would feel like a kid in a candy store.
And Sandy did. Her assignment was to tap into as much information as she could. Although the poker game was not part of the initial plan, it now gave her a perfect opportunity. It was unbeknownst to the King, but he handed her an ace in the hole before the card game even commenced.
Chapter 9
Jacob McGinnis sat alone in his office. It was now late in the evening. Brooklyn retired to her quarters. He felt alone in the world. His daughter was in Saudi Arabia. She was attending the wedding of a friend. He also knew she had an alternative agenda. Not knowing the details, but well aware any of her assignments could end with a phone call saying his daughter was being returned to him in a body bag. David was in Los Angeles. His friend Serge was dying. His wife was dead.
Whoever coined the saying it’s lonely at the top certainly knew what they were talking about. Over the years he learned money could not provide someone with comfort. If used properly it could yield power. But it could not provide happiness. It wasn’t able to save Sandy’s mother, who had been taken far too early by breast cancer. Money provided the opportunity that saw both his daughter and son-in-law thousands of miles away. Achieving vast wealth, yet he spent most of his hours alone.
He was in need of a walk up the trail to his wife’s resting place. When she passed away they built a memorial where her ashes were buried. At least once a week he’d take the five minute walk through the bush to visit her. These conversations with her nourished an inner comfort.
Standing, he grabbed his denim jacket, the one he wore when out with the horses. The thought of being alone tonight was a cold one. He was shivering before facing the chilly breeze of the evening. Jacob opened his desk to retrieve a small but powerful flashlight, one that police or military might use. It was a gift from Sandy. It cut through the darkest of night with razor accuracy.
Just as he was about to walk out of the room the telephone on the desk started to ring. It was the private line. One used for business not pleasure. A call coming through this late at night could not be ignored. So he made an about turn and walked back to his desk to answer it. He picked up the receiver.
“Hello,” he said.
“Jacob,” a lady's voice asked verifying she had the right party on the line.
“Yes.”
“This is Madison Taylor,” identifying herself.
“It is nice to hear your voice Madison. But what in prey tell is the Director of the FBI calling such an inconsequential person such as myself at this time of day or might I say night.”
Madison Taylor was the first female Director in the FBI history. She was appointed to the position by the existing President shortly after he was elected. One of his campaign promises was to tap into the female population to fill top level positions in his administration. There were a great deal of women working in the White House. The problem as he saw it was few were being rewarded with the
influential assignments. His predecessors had missed the boat on this. So much talent had been bypassed because of an old school mentality.
Madison Taylor did not get the position because of her gender. But she was not passed over because of it. She was by far the most qualified, graduating top of her class at Yale. Her parents were heavily rooted in the political arena. Both were lawyers. Smart, single, a rising star in every aspect of her career, tough as nails. She had an unwavering dedication to protect her country. Her duty each and every day was to assure her country was a safer place to live in. Jacob doubted she had even an inkling of a social life. That, they both had in common. So this call wasn’t going to be about grabbing a coffee and chatting about old times.
“I have been asked by The President to personally oversee the investigation of the fire at your family’s stables,” she began.
“You get right to the point, don’t you,” he said.
“Jacob I have little time for idle chat.”
“You know Madison, maybe we both should invest a little more of our time in this idle chat thing,” he said, kind of reflecting his present state of mind. “The older you get, the quicker this life passes by.”
“Maybe in the not-so-near future you and I can indulge in a tea and crumpets get-together. We can debate what life could have or should have been or is. But not tonight, I’m much too busy saving the world.”
“As you wish, but tea and crumpets sounds rather delicious. I look forward to that,” he answered.
“Jacob, as Agent Scott explained, the fire was purposely ignited. The technology utilized is sophisticated. The troubling factor is the manner in which this system was used. It was amateurish,” she explained. “It is very expensive. Using a jerry can of gas and a match would have accomplished better results. These micro pellets as we call them can only be ignited by satellite feed. One must have coded access to a satellite which cannot be traced. Governments have them. Telecommunication companies have them, along with hundreds of other entities. The question remains, why spend so much to inflict so little damage. We believe the main objective here was one of distraction. It was meant to keep someone away or keep someone near.”
“So what do you extrapolate from this?”
“They have a handsome budget but wanted to stay in the background, so an inexperienced person or persons were used for placement of the igniters. Someone in your camp was the target. It was meant to either keep them close or keep them away from the stable. Leave the details to us. We are good at what we do. But, if you could put some thought into the coming and goings of your people around that time frame, it might help in establishing who the diversion was intended for. Then we can find out the why that much sooner.”
“Madison, I appreciate you’re administering the investigation. I must say I’m puzzled as why this happened. What in the world could be accomplished by mounting an assault of this sort? It wasn’t even a race day at the facility.”
“That is what is so bothersome. I would like to solicit the aid of the CIA,” she wasn’t seeking his approval but rather informing him of her intentions.
“Why?”
“If we embrace this theory, which we do, it has a European connection written all over it. The CIA has agents in place that can extract the intelligence fundamental to our investigation.” Continuing she asked, “Jacob I need to ask. Are you aware of any employee, friend or family that may have an association to a radical group?”
“No Madison, our screening process is quite elaborate.”
“Fine, I will keep you posted,” she said fulfilling her obligation to keep Mr. McGinnis in the loop.
“Will that be all Miss Director?”
“Yes, goodnight Jacob,” she brought the conversation to a close for now.
“Goodnight Madison, I look forward to penciling our tea party into my schedule.”
He thought he could hear her laugh on the other end of the line. They both hung up. Jacob stayed sitting to give himself a minute to digest the FBI’s finding. He then got up, prepared once again for his short walk to visit with his wife. It was going to be a long conversation. He was confident the talk with Emma would provide him with some clarity.
***
Sandy met with Fyad and his bride to be for lunch. She liked her. Very pretty, well spoken, educated. The first thought that came to Sandy’s mind was how beautiful their children would be, their future little Princesses and Princes. She was as close to Fyad as she might have been to a brother, if she had one. It was important to her that he was happy with his choice of partner. He was. They seemed like the perfect match. That was good enough for her to extend her blessings.
After lunch Sandy spent the afternoon being introduced to a number of the guests who had also been extended an invitation to reside at the palace during their stay for the wedding. Some of the introductions were cordial. Some were chilly. Those who viewed the USA as an enemy would have preferred not to be put in the position of acting polite. For fear of alienating the King, they played along. After discussing Middle East concerns with a number of the guests she returned to her room to rest prior to the gala dinner, which would be a no expense spared celebration.
***
The dinner event was coming to a close. The festivity would be remembered for a long time by all guests in attendance. It was filled with live entertainment, speeches and enough food to feed a small country. The King’s affection towards his son was apparent by the enthusiasm in which the occasion was staged.
The King was seated at the head of the table. Fyad and his fiance Selena were seated to the King’s immediate left. To his right was his wife. Sandy sat next to her, directly across from the soon to be princess. Her name was befitting as it meant Moon Goddess. She was unarguably enchantress this evening.
The King leaned to his right to speak with Sandy.
“Sandy, we will meet in the library regarding our conversation early in the day,” reminding her of the upcoming card game.
She smiled but did not reply. She pushed her chair back, stood, and then took a few steps until she was directly behind the King.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” leaning over and whispered into his ear. “It would seem a smattering of your guests don’t take that kindly to us Westerners.”
“A savoring memory you will provide me with your mastery,” he knew she would be on the winning side of the game.
“All right, I will see you in an hour.”
“Sandy, please meet me in my office. I wish to have you by my side when we enter the library.” Then added with a smile, “Sandy, please do not be fashionably late.”
She nodded her head to confirm she heard him.
Sandy then began to politely extend her goodbyes to the guests before making her way to change and freshen up for the final events of the evening. Her choice of clothing was black. It had a classy look, perfect for a game of cards with a number of Kings and Princesses, but functional enough for the task at hand.
True to her word, she presented herself at the office exactly at the predetermined time. The King was waiting. The second she arrived, the doors to the office swung open. Side by side they were instantly on their way down the hall. She didn’t even break a stride. As they neared the library, the security detail opened the doors for them. When they stepped into the room a number of faces reflected confusion as to why a woman had been allowed access to this privileged gathering.
The King said, “Gentlemen, I believe most of you have had the pleasure of meeting Sandy. She will be joining us this evening. I’ve asked her to go easy on you.”
“Your Highness, this is not proper. We forbid women at our table,” said the leader of one of the anti-American countries.
He and two others stood in protest preparing to leave the room.
“Sit,” the King said in a loud forceful voice.
He went on, “This young lady is the daughter I never had. She will be playing cards with us this evening.”
“But Your Highne
ss,” another head of state began before being cut off.
“Gentlemen please sit,” he proclaimed in an authoritative voice. “This is my country, my palace, my card game. We will begin. Should one of you find it necessary to leave, I assure you any financial assistance my government has allocated towards your country will cease with your exit through that door,” he pointed towards the twelve foot hand carved mahogany doors which were being guarded by four security persons. Two stationed inside the room, two on the outside.
“Please sit,” everyone took their chairs.
The card game commenced. Drinks were served to those wanting to indulge. Sandy declined. She required all her senses intact. They would be needed in an hour or so.
The game of choice was Texas Hold’em. As the name implies it is believed to have originated in the state of Texas. The King had to profess that the Americans should be applauded for inventing a game that had provided him with so many hours of enjoyment. When you were as wealthy as he was, it wasn’t the monetary gain of the win that provided the thrill. It was the gratification of knowing you defeated your opponent.
Sandy understood this depiction of the game. She was victorious at any card table she participated in. Her exhaustive schooling in intelligence and human behavior heightened her senses to an unparalleled level. She concentrated on body movement, a twitch of the nose, a flicker in the eye, shifting of hands, or fingers, and fidgeting of the legs. Given her awareness of the minutest detail of the opponent’s reflexes, she rarely lost. It also helped that she could count cards, knowing with some certainty the odds of someone was holding a better hand than hers.
Everyone settled into the game. Betting, folding, and bluffing. Sandy purposely folded or lost a few hands for the first quarter hour. Her goal was to deflect any interest she attracted by being a women in what some at the table believed was a man’s world. It worked. She was no longer the center of attention. Slowly she eased herself into winning. Her opponents were wealthy. The stakes were steadily increasing. In just over an hour she displayed her uncanny skill at the discipline, to the elation of the King. She won over a hundred thousand dollars. Other than the King, the men in the room were bewildered. They had been put into their place by a woman. Mission one of the evening accomplished.
Love Lonely Page 10