by Rawlin Cash
“Even if I find it, what on earth would possess the Saudis to assassinate the president?”
“Well, according to Dayton MacGregor’s files, it looks like the president was trying to stop giving them what they wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
“President Jackson was concerned at the pace of Saudi tech development. They were pumping billions into recruiting scientists. They were implementing our own innovations faster than we were.”
“So they assassinated him? Come on.”
“I’ve seen the files, Fawn. Deke told me the client was Y4456. When I found that client on their system, the retainer, which is a million dollars a month, was being paid by a man named Jamal Al-Wahad.”
“Jamal Al-Wahad?”
“He’s a mean son of a bitch. The Saudis use him for a lot of their dirty work. He’s got royal blood.”
“He was mixed up in something else.”
“He’d been funding Gabriel Dayton’s political campaign.”
“And you assassinated Dayton.”
“Yes.”
“And now he shows up again.”
“Yes he does.”
“Saudi Arabia is our ally,” Fawn said.
“Saudi Arabia is no one’s ally. They’re at war in Yemen and congress just passed a resolution condemning it. They spend almost as much buying our military technology as we spend developing it. They’re feeding on us, Fawn. And we’re letting them.”
“But this? Would they really risk it?”
“Why wouldn’t they? They’ve killed tens of thousands of people around the world. Why not a president or two?”
“Are you sure of this?”
“Fawn, if you saw the files you would be too. They have research on every high profile politician in the country. How they vote. Which defense contractors have made donations. How likely they are to support Saudi Arabia’s continued militarization.”
“That doesn’t mean they killed the president.”
“Call it a hunch then.”
“You’re going to be fucked if you’re wrong.”
“I could use a good fuck.”
“This isn’t a joke, Hunter.”
“Just find out if we sold them the RQ-170 tech. And find out if we sold them any of the smart bullet tech. They have their fingers in everything.”
“All right.”
“And send me the schematics for the embassy.”
“Hunter.”
“Just send them, please.”
Fawn was silent for a moment. Then she said, “fine.”
“Thank you.”
“But be careful, Hunter.”
He hung up. He knew she didn’t want him to go in, but if he was going to persuade anyone that one of the country’s staunchest allies in the Middle East was involved in the assassination of two presidents, he needed real proof.
Breaking into the Saudi embassy was no simple task. The building, a colonial mansion between the Watergate and the Kennedy Center, was one of the most highly protected embassies in the world. With all the enemies the country racked up, the embassy was more fortress than residence, and spent more on security in DC than anyone else.
In fact, the Saudis spent more on security almost everywhere than everyone else. And they paid for it with oil. Saudi Arabia’s economy was basically the world’s largest machine for turning crude oil into weaponry. As the world’s third largest producer, accounting for over twelve percent of global production, it spent more on its military than any other developed nation on earth. Where the US spent 3.6 percent, and other NATO members like the United Kingdom and Germany spent between one and two percent, Saudi Arabia spent a full ten percent. That gave them sixty billion dollars a year for military spending. The Saudi king allocated more to the military than any other spending category, including education, healthcare, or infrastructure. One out of every three dollars spent by the Saudi government went to the military.
This allowed the nation to play an outsized role in the global military game, seeking not only to become the undisputed superpower in the Middle East, but also to have the single most advanced military on the globe.
For years, there had been concerns about the types of technology that the US and other NATO members were selling to the Saudis. The issue became critical when it emerged that US armaments firms, with the sign off of high-level US officials, were selling military technology to the Saudis that the American military itself had deemed too expensive to implement. So while Saudi Arabia had a population of just thirty-four million, less than half a percent of the global total, its military spending accounted for 5.2 percent of the global total. The only two countries on earth with a higher military budget than Saudi Arabia were the United States and China. Even Russia spent less. It raised eyebrows.
These facts were immediately apparent from the embassy schematics that Fawn sent to Hunter’s phone. The building was designed to keep intruders out. Every detail, from the bullet proof glass in the windows, to the motion sensors on the manicured lawns, was top of the line.
It was a testament to the power the Saudis had in Washington that its embassy was permitted to maintain full-scale military hardware so close to the White House.
As Hunter took in the scale of the defenses, all fully known to the NSA and signed off on by the State Department, he realized the power of lobbyists like Dayton MacGregor. They could get their clients almost anything if they had the funds.
It was only a matter of time before the whole country was in their hands.
Freedom had a price. Saudi Arabia was a monarchy. Its king owned the country. Everyone in the country worked toward his ends. In the US, people were free to work on whatever they wanted, and a lot of them chose to work for high-paying foreign interests. The lobbying sector was the single biggest employer of former US government officials. They went straight from representing America to representing foreign powers. It was seen as the payoff for all their years of public service. They went from earning a hundred grand a year, to a hundred grand in an afternoon.
And all they had to do was turn a blind eye to what was happening to the country they’d help build.
It was only a matter of time before they took over completely.
Hunter looked at the Saudi embassy and it seemed to symbolize the whole thing, the whole rotten mess of corruption and decay. The swamp that so many had promised to drain. The nation he and so many others had risked their lives to protect was being sold down the river. And it was by the very people who were supposed to be standing watch. Fuck them. Fuck all of them.
The smartest thing to do would be to wait. Sooner or later, the Saudi ambassador would show his face. He’d leave the embassy for a meeting or function and Hunter could strike. But time was of the essence. Every minute that passed put the president’s life at risk, but also brought the country closer to war with Iran. He was pissed off. He didn’t want to wait.
He knew he could force his way in. It would create a major political incident but given the circumstances, and assuming he was right that it was the Saudis, a major political situation was what they already had.
He had the Beretta M9. That was it.
Sometimes the best way in was through the front door.
He walked up the steps from the Watergate concourse and crossed the street toward the security barrier at the front of the embassy. He approached the Saudi guard and glanced beyond him at the defenses. There was another guard in the post, protected by bullet proof glass, and he could see three strongpoints on the front of the building where shooters could be stationed. There was a steel gate that was open and concrete barriers that could move out of the way for vehicles to pass.
Hunter walked up to the guard by the barrier.
“Is this the Saudi Embassy?” he said.
“You must not stand here,” the guard said in heavily accented English.
He was armed with a Colt AR-15 that had been modified to use a muzzle compensator in place of the usual flash suppressor. Hunte
r knew this was a modification that had been considered by the US military but had not been implemented for cost reasons. As usual, the Saudis were ahead of the game.
Hunter walked up to him and reached into his pocket.
“I’ve got an email on my phone,” he said.
Instead of his phone, he pulled out the M9 and rose it up, firing at near blank range into the guard’s forehead. He then crouched down and picked up the dead guard’s AR-15. He strode to the door of the security post where the second guard was fumbling for his service pistol and killed him, also with the M9.
There was no general alert. Hunter knew that despite the building’s formidable defenses, no one was ever ready for a man to walk up with a gun and actually pull the trigger.
No security plan, however meticulous, was ever truly ready for an attack. Hunter knew that a single determined gunman could get past almost any security measure if he was willing to risk everything. It was the secret of all defensive measures. They worked fine as long as no one actually tested them.
Hunter grabbed the second guard’s AR-15 and saw there were some crowd control supplies there too.
He took a handful of smoke grenades, pulled the pins, and flung them out onto the embassy driveway. He then stepped into the smoke and approached the entrance. He was at the door before the full alert was sounded. By that time, guards were running around on the roof of the building and taking up position in the strong points overlooking the property. Hunter had already passed.
He tried the front door of the embassy, beautifully carved in mahogany with the seal of the House of Saud, and it opened. He scanned the interior hallway, it was empty, and stepped inside.
He was in a grand, marble hallway with a sweeping staircase that led to the second floor. He hurried up the stairs and began looking for the office of the ambassador.
The hallway was lined with doors, none of which were locked, and they led to the most opulently decorated rooms Hunter had ever seen. The building was like a European museum, decorated with antiques and treasures from every era. He found drawing rooms, a library, and then a large door that looked like the entrance to the ambassador’s private residence. It was the first door that was locked.
He still hadn’t been confronted by a single guard.
He kicked open the door and was in a set of rooms that looked like the presidential suite of a five-star hotel. The upholstery, the statues, the Chinese urns over the mantle, it all smelled like money and opulence.
The room was empty and Hunter went inside and shut the door behind him. He had broken the lock but kept the door closed by pulling a chair in front of it. He could hear guards running around the corridor, the building’s costly security system finally kicking into gear.
He pushed through door after door, a sitting room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and finally a bedroom.
On the large four-posted bed was a corpulent man, his back to the door, fucking for all he was worth. A blonde woman, barely twenty, was on her hands and knees in front of him, moaning in apparent amazement at the man’s prowess.
Hunter stepped into the room quietly and locked the door behind him.
He sat on a Louis the Fourteenth style wooden chair and had the decency to let the old man climax. He made a lot of noise when he climaxed and the girl went wild with ecstasy. Despite himself, Hunter couldn’t help getting aroused at the scene.
“Sorry to break up the party,” he said when the man collapsed onto the bed next to the girl.
The girl swung around in shock and covered her breasts with her arm.
“Don’t scream,” he said.
She backed away across the bed and pulled a blanket up over herself.
The ambassador, the venerable Adel bin Faisal bin Salman al Saud, cousin to the king of Saudi Arabia, looked scornfully at Hunter.
He stood up and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. His cock was enormous, a truly ambassadorial organ, and Hunter thought maybe the girl hadn’t been faking it after all.
“This room will be full of guards in a second,” the ambassador said.
Hunter shrugged. “I think you know why I’m here,” he said.
The ambassador’s face remained blank.
“You know I’m the type of guy who will shoot you somewhere painful,” Hunter said, motioning toward the man’s cock with his gun, “and then put my finger in the wound until you talk.”
“There’s no need for that,” the ambassador said.
“Maybe I’ll shoot you anyway. Maybe I’d like to turn you into a eunuch.”
“I assure you it’s unnecessary,” the ambassador said.
“What do you think, sweetheart?” Hunter said to the girl.
She shook her head, begging not to be involved.
Hunter knew the ambassador would talk. A man like Adel didn’t get where he was by resisting. He would bend like a branch, giving just as much as was required to save his own skin. He’d buy time, he’d equivocate, but he’d talk.
“I have three questions,” Hunter said. “If you can answer them before your guards arrive, I won’t shoot you in the dick.”
Adel looked at the door, dreading the moment the guards burst in.
“Ask,” he said. “Ask.”
“Who in the US government signed off on the export of the smart bullet technology?” Hunter said.
Hunter didn’t know for certain anyone had sold that tech but he’d learn a lot from the ambassador’s response.
“The chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee,” Adel said without a second’s hesitation.
Hunter looked at him. If he was telling the truth, this was easier than he’d expected.
“All right,” he said. “And why did you want to get rid of President Jackson?”
“He was going to sign an executive order prohibiting future high-tech arms sales to us,” the ambassador said.
Hunter was surprised again. This guy spilled the beans almost too easily. He’d grown up a billionaire, had received everything in his life on a silver platter, and the only thing anyone ever required of him was loyalty. Maybe his position in the royal family meant he didn’t have to worry about that either.
How could the Saudis put such a coward in such an important position? That was the problem with keeping all the top spots within a single family.
“All right,” Hunter said, “and who is it that your government is seeking to put in the presidency in Jackson’s place?”
At that moment, the window of the room smashed. Hunter glanced in its direction for a split second and when his eyes returned to the ambassador he saw the man was already dead. The girl in the bed next to him was screaming.
“Get under the bed,” Hunter said.
He crouched and waited for another bullet but none came. He could hear guards in the apartment outside.
He ran for the window and leapt. He had no idea what would break his fall and as it happened, it was a quarter of a million dollar Bentley, the roof of which caved in partially when he landed on it.
He looked to the sky and saw the drone in the distance, already withdrawing.
The Saudis were cleaning house. Every person who had any idea of what they were up to would soon find themselves on the wrong end of a sniper bullet.
Hunter didn’t give one damn.
Forty-One
Fawn picked up her phone. She was landing at the Site-R helipad.
“Hunter, I just got here.”
“Did you find out if we sold tech to the Saudis?”
“I’m going to call you right back,” she said.
It was raining and Fitzpatrick was rushing across the helipad to another chopper.
“Fitz,” she called out.
He didn’t hear her over the chopper engines and she had to run after him.
“Fitz, Fitz,” she yelled, trying to be heard over the noise.
He was in the chopper with four Navy SEALs and they all turned toward her.
“I need some information,” she said.
“I’m about to take off.”
“This is important.”
“It’s going to have to wait, Fawn.”
She looked at the SEALs, wishing they weren’t there. She couldn’t ask what she needed in front of them. Fitz wouldn’t talk. The full extent of arms sales to the Saudis was one of the most closely guarded secrets in Washington.
The chopper engine was already revving up.
Fawn could have climbed in but she needed to get inside and speak to Hale and the president.
“Give me one minute, sir. Please.”
His phone went off with an NSA alert and he pulled it out of his pocket. His face changed when he read the message.
“Has your question got anything to do with the Saudi ambassador just being assassinated?” he said.
Fawn was taken aback. “Assassinated?”
“You didn’t know?”
“We need to talk, sir.”
Fitz sighed. The rain was getting heavier. Fawn was soaked to the skin and Fitz liked staying dry.
He opened his seat belt and told the pilot to wait for him. “I’ll be two minutes,” he said.
He and Fawn ran to the bunker entrance for shelter.
“What’s going on, Fawn?”
“Hunter got a lead that the Saudis were involved.”
“So he killed the ambassador?”
“I don’t know. But I need to know from you, did we sell Saudi Arabia the RQ-170 tech?”
Fitz looked at the ground. He was going to lie.
“I’ll have to look into that.”
“Fitz. Just tell me. We don’t have time to make a mistake. Jennifer’s set to declare war on Iran any minute.”
“I’ve been pushing for war with Iran for years. The entire NSA has.”
“Does the NSA want more presidents to be assassinated?”
He looked at her. “We’re not mixed up in this,” he said.
“But you knew the Saudis had the RQ-170 tech?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
“Iran had it too.”
“All right. And the smart bullet tech?”
“It’s illegal to sell that tech. To anyone. Period.”