by DiAnn Mills
“I am committed to improving our country’s position in the world.”
Another reporter secured the prince’s attention. “What does this mean for the oil and gas industry?”
“Saudi Arabia is not an enemy of the US oil and gas industry. We strive for higher oil prices that stimulate enough investment to keep up with the oil demand. We will continue to work together to raise our economies and meet the needs of all our people.”
“Does your policy mean Saudi Arabia is abandoning its current market share in regards to oil?”
“We’ve always said we are willing to cooperate with other producers, but we won’t do it alone. We need the cooperation of strong allies.”
A third reporter stood and tucked her hair behind her ears. “What practical steps is your country taking in regards to curbing violent extremism and radical Islamic terrorism?”
“We are working with the US and other allies in doing all we can to combat terrorism, perhaps most importantly state-sponsored terrorism.”
The reporter thanked him and another indicated readiness to ask a question. “Since you’ve arrived, an assassination attempt against you was foiled, and a bodyguard as well as Americans have been killed. What can you tell us about these incidents?”
“My American friends have successfully thwarted my assassination attempt while working to solve the other two deaths. We have determined the origin, and I’m confident in the security provided by US authorities.”
“So the killers are in custody?”
Prince Omar nodded as though pleased. “In addition, our enemies are globally being questioned.”
Kord swallowed at the thought of how the prince’s response would be interpreted by the media.
The press conference continued for an additional thirty minutes. A reporter asked about Princess Gharam’s condition, and the prince said MD Anderson had provided excellent accommodations and treatments. He concluded with an announcement of his returning to Houston for the Offshore Technology Conference in May. “I’m looking forward to sharing knowledge for offshore resources and learning how to improve environmental matters.”
In Kord’s opinion, the press conference was a sound beginning for Prince Omar to show his sincerity in contributing to his country’s growth and interest in world affairs. He’d spoken from his heart, just as he’d done the evening in his office when he expressed how he wanted to contribute to the success of Saudi Arabia. Fortunately today, he hadn’t mentioned the leasing of Saudi oil reserves.
Investigators hadn’t found a connection between Parvin Shah and the core terrorist group targeting Prince Omar. Who’d recruited and trained her? Who’d funded the attempts? Like Monica, Kord longed to be in the thick of the investigation.
The uncertainty wasn’t over, and all Prince Omar’s goodwill intentions meant nothing if he was killed on American soil.
AN HOUR BEFORE DINNER and after prayers, Fatima entered the common area wearing a dark-green jumpsuit that would give her mobility for the self-defense instructions. Good choice of clothes, and Monica told her so.
Yasmine’s bedroom door was open. If she’d toss off her stubborn mode and listen and watch, she’d learn how to rely less on men. Especially those who manipulated unsuspecting women. Self-defense was as much about mental skills as physical.
“Are you ready?” Monica said to Fatima. “You may be sore tomorrow.”
“I can handle whatever you bring my way.”
Monica laughed. “Wonderful, because we’re going to be working hard. I’m going to start with an easy technique. We’ll not move on until you’ve mastered it. I want you to feel comfortable while building your skills. The most important part of learning self-defense is confidence. You can defend yourself if placed in a precarious situation.” She positioned herself directly in front of Fatima. “Put your arms at your sides as though you have no idea a man or woman intends to harm you.”
Fatima obliged. “For sure a man.”
“Both. A woman can catch you off guard quicker than a man.”
Fatima seemed to ponder the idea. “Perhaps so. I wouldn’t expect a woman to do me harm. But Parvin Shah was a killer.”
“The good and the bad believe their actions are justified.”
“I will think about that, remember it. With my upcoming marriage, I choose to be happy and a good wife. While my brother’s enemy chooses to do all he or she can to kill him. A difficult concept, but I see the truth in it.”
Still facing Fatima, Monica quickly grabbed her arm, stepped behind Fatima, and positioned her arm behind the young woman’s back.
“I understand. I must think fast and memorize what to do next.”
Monica smiled, and the two faced each other again. “For practical purposes, you will be the attacker. Step into my personal space and grab my right arm, pushing it away from my body.” Fatima followed instructions. “This leaves me defenseless, or so you think. I will counteract with a move called a wrist sweep. I’ll bring my elbow to the center line.” Monica demonstrated. “Then I’ll twist out, which allows me to break free and punch you in a vulnerable area.”
“Twist inside or outside?”
“Doesn’t matter. It’s the elbow’s action that’s important against the would-be assailant’s grip.”
Fatima practiced a few more times until she had the technique perfected.
“See how easy? Ready for another one?”
“As you Westerners say, absolutely.” Fatima faced Monica.
“Sometimes a person will try to touch you. So put your hand on my shoulder.”
“Which side?”
“Either one.”
Fatima placed her hand on Monica’s right shoulder. In turn she gripped Fatima’s hand and thumb, lifted up and inside, forcing Fatima down, which allowed Monica to add pressure above her elbow and gain control.
“Ouch.” Fatima rubbed her hand.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Have you used these movements before?”
“Absolutely.” They both laughed.
Yasmine ventured into the room.
“Would you like to try?” Monica said to her.
“It’s interesting.” Yasmine eased onto a chair.
Monica bent beside her. “I hope neither of you are ever in a setting that calls for self-defense. But we never know what the future brings. The best we can do is be prepared. As your friend, I want to share what it takes to avoid being hurt.”
“I need to learn too,” Yasmine said. “First I want to say something. Your words about forgetting Malik made me angry. I hated you for them. Then I thought about my desire for women in our country to gain more independence.” She took a deep breath. “By breaking rules with Malik, I did more harm for women than if I’d been obedient. I should have insisted he talk to my father or brother. I think Malik didn’t value me as an equal like he said, but something he could own.” Tears filled her eyes. “If I’m honest with myself, then I know he lied about his love. I will learn how to have wisdom and knowledge—not to be better than a man but to show I have value.”
Monica drew Yasmine into her arms as she’d done in the past. She’d grown incredibly fond of the sisters. “You’re on your way to becoming a courageous and strong woman. Respect for ourselves and others is the beginning.”
“Malik is on his way home. I hope to one day look at him as a lesson learned and not a broken heart.” She swallowed. “I’m changing clothes so I can join you.”
In less than ten minutes, Yasmine stood beside her sister dressed in Western workout clothes. Monica repeated the same instructions she’d given Fatima. Soon Yasmine mastered the techniques too. “One thing I want to point out is every person, no matter how strong, has weak areas. Those are the eyes, ears, mouth, nose, throat, fingers, toes, and the groin. Memorize them.”
“You mean hit the attacker there?” Yasmine said.
“Exactly. For example in the eyes, use your thumbs, or aim straight at the person with your finger
s. By remembering the vulnerable areas, you can use what you have and not be concerned about the absence of a weapon.” She lifted her chin. “Pray you never have to use these techniques.”
“Has it been hard for you?” Yasmine said.
“Easy when someone meant me harm. Self-defense is about preparedness. If a bodyguard has been hurt or is not around, you can be confident of doing your best to protect yourself and others.”
SHORTLY BEFORE MIDNIGHT, Kord met with Monica in the foyer for the drive to Coffee Gone Dark. Prince Omar and Ali knew of their plans, and two FBI agents stood at the front door to handle the prince’s protection duty. No way was she making the trip by herself, and he had two reasons.
She’d been working on nailing the Nigerians involved in a weapons case before this assignment. If she’d arranged to meet a contact at the café, she needed Kord to watch her back. Whether the man who’d alarmed Monica’s friend Lori was Middle Eastern or Nigerian or just an admirer, the jaunt was too dangerous for her to take alone.
Yesterday, she’d acquired a cough. Her face was flushed, indicating a possible fever. She could be off her game and need his assistance.
“I’m capable of doing this myself,” she said to Kord.
“Discussion closed, and I’m driving.”
“Text me with whatever you find,” Ali said. “Better yet, call. If this concerns the prince’s assassination attempt, I want to be informed.”
“Will do,” Kord said. “Shouldn’t take long.”
“Ali,” Monica said, “I want to see the face of whoever asked for me at the coffee shop. No matter if he’s related to this case or a previous one, the idea of someone frightening my friend doesn’t sit well.”
“If you feel this is too dangerous for the two of you, I can come along.”
“Thank you, but that leaves us a bodyguard short here,” she said.
Kord had a problem with the way Ali looked at her. The tenderness thing made him . . . uneasy. She’d claimed disinterest, and Kord believed her, but Ali could be persuasive.
Kord pulled his keys from his pant pocket. “Ready?”
“Let’s go.”
They left the house in his Charger and headed downtown. The familiar restlessness nipped at his mind. The sooner they saw the Coffee Gone Dark footage, the better.
Kord flipped on his windshield wipers to clear the rain. The streets glistened with a light mist, and more rain was predicted within the hour. He’d been caught in rising waters a few days ago and didn’t want to be there again. Ali’s attitude toward Monica had gotten to him.
Focus, Davidson. End this case and then see whom she prefers.
“Are you okay?” she said. “Did I miss something at the press conference?”
“Just thinking about flooding streets.”
“I can swim.” Monica grinned at him, then pulled out her phone. “This is a good time to call Lori. She’ll be in bed, but I was concerned she’d insist on meeting us there.” She pressed in a number. “Hi, Lori, it’s Monica. Sorry about the hour. Wanted to let you know I’ll be at the café in a few minutes.” She paused. “I’m good, and I’m not alone. I’ll disarm the system and arm it when we’re finished. I didn’t want you to find out about it without forewarning.” Ending the call, she leaned her head back.
“I’m not an idiot, Monica. You could have hacked into the coffeehouse’s security system. We’re going fishing, but for whom or what? Or should I ask which case?”
She frowned. “This is a no-brainer. The man who asked for me left his number on a napkin, and Lori placed it in the café’s safe. I want to retrieve it before she chooses to give it to the police.”
“And?”
“Figure out if the man is someone I need to talk to.”
“I? Not we? This case or your previous one? Are you going all Jason Bourne on me?”
“I wish. Tired of playing housemaid.”
“So you’ve said.” Kord understood her frustration. “I get it. We’re used to being in the thick of things. For the record, if anyone tailed us from the mansion, I haven’t detected anything.”
“Doesn’t mean there isn’t one. By the way, have you mentioned again about sending Fatima and Yasmine home?”
He nodded. “Prince Omar is considering it.”
“Why would he want them to be in danger?”
“Because of a personal issue there. He feels he can better protect them here.”
“Okay. Can we talk about Parvin Shah?”
“Go for it.”
“She was prepared to use a suicide vest or at least had it in her possession. If she’d been successful, we’d never know who inside Saudi or Iran is responsible. Never mind the factions who are claiming responsibility. It’s glory day for those who want Saudi Arabia and the US to break ally relations.” She stopped. “I ramble on when I’m tired.”
He laughed. “I like hearing your thought process. Pushes the pieces closer together. Once we’ve figured out who’s behind this, Saudi will take extreme measures against them. Hard to say how the US will respond. The ludicrous risks Iran is taking could kill thousands.”
“Who is stupid enough to risk getting blown off the map unless they have a strategic plan? Who else is backing them?” She straightened.
“What is it?”
“Techs are working on linking Shah with father and son Dagher or Malik. We’re hoping to find who worked with her, and tonight we’ll learn who came looking for me at the café. If this is regarding our case, why look me up at Coffee Gone Dark and not you?”
“Who knew you worked there before the prince’s arrival to the US?” Kord said.
“My point. I’m not the biggest threat—you are because of your close alliance with Prince Omar. It doesn’t make sense.”
Kord recalled what SAC Thomas had said about his friendship with Prince Omar. “Not necessarily. You came into the task force with a superior skill set.”
She turned to him. “As though you’d overlook what might be happening?”
“Blind was the word used.”
“What’s SAC Thomas’s position?”
“Prince Omar insisted on having me as part of the security detail. We’re the team, and we’ve both inflicted damage in the Middle East. We’re in the top ten of that region’s kill list. But you’re the one who has the spotlight. That has me baffled too.”
“If someone was watching when I chased Shah, she hit the pavement and fell between two cars. I spent a few seconds checking vitals. Could our bad guy be worried she gave me info? But if so, he’d be under arrest.”
“If the enemy believes you have an ID, you’re not in a good spot. The other factor is your ability to read lips. Two reasons to see you out of the picture.”
“I think Malik is working with the enemy,” she said with concrete firmness. “Use your influence to keep him alive until this is over.”
“Why?”
“Call it intuition while I find the evidence.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“I’d be a fool to admit that to an operative.”
“Oh yes, keep my fearsome reputation in check.”
He turned toward the area of the court buildings and down the street where Coffee Gone Dark thrived during the day. He parked a block away. They exited and walked in silence to the café. The few people on the street appeared harmless.
Monica and Kord stood in front of the store. She unlocked the door and trotted back to silence the alarm. “It will lock behind you,” she called over her shoulder.
Kord yanked on the door to be sure and followed her to the rear. An overhead light showed a neat and upscale business, glistening stainless steel equipment, and a coffee mug selection featuring Houston sports. A wall held signed photos of featured players.
In a small, messy, and very coffee-smelling office, Monica sat behind an industrial-style desk and brought the computer monitor to life. He peered over her shoulder as she pulled up camera footage. Sto
pping at a frame and time stamp, she studied the man talking to a young woman.
“Do you know him?” Kord said.
“Yep.” She scooted back the chair and bent beside the desk to a small safe. After tapping in several numbers, it opened, and she eased out a napkin.
“He wrote his number on a napkin?”
“It’s not his phone number.”
“Must be CIA code stuff.”
She didn’t acknowledge him but typed something into her phone. The whisk sound told him it was a text message. She glanced up and smiled. How could one woman look so beautiful in the middle of a no-sleep, dangerous assignment?
“This has nothing to do with Prince Omar. I’m finished here unless you want coffee,” she said.
“When this is over, I’ll drink my weight. Be here every morning at six. Drive you crazy.”
He observed the red rising in her face, the emotional color of blondes. “Monica, how long are you going to deny us?”
“It’s not that easy. You know about Liam. I’m a mess. Then there’s the faith—”
He bent and brushed a kiss against her lips, soft and warm. “I’m calling in a favor.” He touched her lips again.
She broke away. “What favor?”
“I’m sure you owe me for something. In case you haven’t figured it out, Ali has competition,” he whispered.
“Can we table this until the mission is over?”
“I keep trying, but you’re irresistible.”
She stared at the computer screen. “You and Ali are full of yourselves.”
He grinned. “We’ll see. Want another kiss?”
“Put it in my bank.” Rain beat against the roof, and she groaned. “The ground is saturated. We’ll need to trade in our cars for boats.”
“You’re an expert on changing the subject. Shall we get back to the mansion?”
She coughed into the crook of her arm and rose from the chair.
“That sounded like it came from your toes.”
