by Greig Beck
I know you’re in there, he thought, and then jammed it all into his case.
Matt sucked in a breath and then let it out slowly. The longevity, the worms, the people in the shadows, the giant thing looming in through the window; it all gave him a knotted feeling in his gut. He’d been here before, and it never turned out well.
He sat on the edge of his bed and stared off into the dark corners of his room. Matt shuddered, feeling his nerves run away on him at the thought of going back to the Middle East. He knew he was damaged goods and even getting involved in something that was turning out to have an element of the mysterious, not to mention deadly-dangerous, was insanity.
Then, as if dropping from the sky the mysterious Khaled arrived to help them advance their investigation. Good fortune, or by design? Trust no one, he had said. Not even you? Matt wondered. He sighed. I should never have let Rachel and Samuel sit down. I should have stayed surfing that weekend, he thought. He flipped the lid of his case closed.
“Damn; I’m a hostage to my own curiosity.” He stood and gave a mirthless laugh to the empty room. “Or stupidity.”
It was 5.10 am when he exited the revolving doors to find Rachel already waiting by the car. She looked fresh, alert and professional as always, and not at all like someone who had been vigorously shagging only a few hours ago.
“Sleep well?” she asked, and opened the car door.
“No, but had some great dreams.” He jumped in and slid across.
Rachel took a last look up and down the street, and then ducked in behind him, slamming the door. “That was no dream.” She smiled at him and Matt grinned back. Rachel cleared her throat and smoothed a hair behind her ear. Matt had the impression she was putting her professional game face back on.
“What do you think about Khaled? Seems too good to be true, him turning up just when we needed him.” He watched her nose wrinkle.
“I don’t trust him.” She turned to the window. “Or, for that matter, Eleanor or Greta.” She turned, one corner of her mouth quirking up. “Still not 100 per cent sure about you yet either.”
He remembered Khaled’s whispered warning – this was turning out to be one fine working relationship, he thought.
“We’ve got to work as a team.” He shrugged. “No choice.”
“We’re not a team, Matt.” Rachel stared into his face. “We’re just a group all riding on the same train – when we get to our destination, and then we’ll see who gets off where.”
Chapter 11
Eleanor and Greta met them at the airport, and Matt watched with amazement as the big woman lifted Eleanor like a child and carried her up the stairs. He was going to offer to help, but he had the feeling Greta could have carried him as well if he’d asked.
The flight was long, 15 hours, and after crossing the Atlantic and then refueling at Heathrow, London, they were back in the air without disembarking. Matt hadn’t felt claustrophobic at all. The entire cabin was theirs and the seats were in a pod-type arrangement, facing each other and with small coffee table before them.
He and Rachel were left to themselves as for most of the flight Eleanor dozed and Greta read a book, not even interested in looking in their direction. Khaled was up in the pilot’s cabin, doing some of the flying. The life of the rich, Matt thought and sighed with envy.
The G-550 jet climbed higher as they crossed Israel and Jordan before entering Saudi Arabia. Looking down from a cloudless sky, Matt saw that the land was much greener than he expected.
The cabin door opened, Khaled smiled widely and came and joined them on one of the vacant chairs.
“Everything all right?”
“Everything’s great.” Matt pointed to the window. “So much green.”
Khaled looked out past him. “Yes, the al Khanafah, a natural wildlife sanctuary. It’s several hundred miles wide. But it’ll be behind us soon, and then we enter the deserts.”
“How much further to go?” Rachel asked.
“Another few hundred miles; maybe an hour. We’ll pass over the cities of Buryadah and then az Zulfi, and then on to Riyadh.” He grinned as he stood. “You’ll love it.” He looked down the cabin to Eleanor and Greta but seeing the old lady asleep, he nodded and left them for the front of the plane again.
Matt turned to the window. As Khaled had told them, the green was now behind them as they entered the deserts, and now there was nothing but yellows and browns, ancient and parched, for mile upon mile. Matt put a hand on the glass window; even in the scrubbed and chilled atmosphere of the luxurious jet, he could almost feel the dry heat emanating from the landscape.
In another half hour, rising up in the distance like an Atlantian city from an ocean of sand hills was the Saudi Arabian capital, Riyadh.
It was large, but not sprawling, and home to nearly six million people. The city reminded Matt of crystals that had been grown in a petri dish, lifting higher and higher as you approached its center. There, thrusting upwards like a large sea creature breaching the water’s surface to snatch something from the air was the Kingdom Centre Skyscraper that rose up 41 stories. The sun glinted off its polished windows like the million faceted faces of a jewel.
Khaled rejoined them. “Coming up on Riyadh International Airport.”
Rachel turned her head. “I would have thought being a member of the royal family you’d have your own airport.”
He shrugged. “The king and many of the princes have their own airports. But their security would not let us come anywhere near them. If we tried without authorisation, well…” He grinned. “They have Israeli design surface to air missiles – they never miss.”
Khaled peered down at the main airport that looked like a band of interlocking silver scales. “But we do get our own runway.” He got to his feet. “Buckle up; I’m going to take her in.”
He looked down the cabin at the sleeping Eleanor. She had a photograph of Clarence held tight to her chest. “Maybe we should wake her soon, yes? Or you should.” Khaled grinned and gave them a small salute before heading back to the cockpit.
The plane glided in, and its wheels touched the tarmac with a feather-light kiss. Khaled obviously knew what he was doing.
The brakes engaged and woke Eleanor van Helling, and like a magician, Greta produced a small glass of orange juice with a bent straw and held it to the woman’s lips.
Matt wondered how long the old woman had left in her, as she seemed little more than a bundle of sticks swaddled in Prada and Chanel. He turned to place his face closer to the window edge to see forward along the tarmac, and spotted that they were being directed toward a smaller shell-shaped building, and half a dozen cars were driving out to meet them.
“Here comes the welcoming committee,” he said to the glass.
Khaled brought the plane in to a gentle stop and handed over the post-flight check down work to the pilot. He came through the cabin to unlock the door and pushed it open, lowering the steps. A single man in a suit bounded up, bowed slightly to Khaled and the pair spoke rapidly in Arabic. Khaled turned. “Customs and Immigration.”
The man efficiently checked their passports, entered the information into a tablet, stamped their paperwork, and then bowed again to Khaled before vanishing back down the steps.
“You see.” Matt grinned. “That’s the way to do it; no queues, and they come to us.”
Rachel peered out the window at the man scurrying away. “He’d probably be beaten if he insulted a Saudi royal.”
“What about an American FBI agent?” Matt watched as their bags were taken toward a line of waiting diamond-black, tank-like Mercedes SUVs. Each with two bulky men in dark sunglasses standing by their side – bodyguards or small army – just how safe is it? he wondered.
Khaled waved to them from the door.
“Let’s go.” Matt got to his feet, followed by Rachel. He first went to help Greta with Eleanor, but the tall woman waved him away like he was an annoying bug.
It was midday, and the first thing Matt noticed
was the difference in the atmosphere as he passed from the synthetic cool air of the jet, to the hot dryness of the Saudi sunshine. He winced as it actually stung his exposed skin. He cursed his lack of foresight for not packing a baseball cap, and he’d put it top of his list for things to order.
He inhaled the smells – even though they were at the edge of an international airport, he smelled spices, heating sand and rock, and something sweet, that he later found out was fermenting dates from the lines of palms outside. Matt had been in many deserts in his life, dozens, and they all smelled the same, especially the ones that had been dry for thousands of years. But the main difference here was that the other smell that floated in the air was intangible but obvious to the eye instead of olfactory nerves. It was of the filthy lucre – money. The car parks and streets were full of Mercedes, BMW, Porsche, Lamborghini, Ferrari, Aston Martin and too many Rolls-Royce to count.
“This way, quickly.” Khaled hurried them to the cars. The huge men opened the doors, and then immediately looked left and right, turning their heads slowly to take in their surroundings. Matt could see in the back of one of the SUVs there was a rocket launcher, RPG, out of its case and ready. These guys played for keeps, he thought, and didn’t know whether all the defenses made him feel safer or more nervous. More nervous, he decided and swallowed with a dry throat.
Khaled escorted Eleanor and Greta to one of the huge cars and spoke to them for a moment before their door was shut. Matt, Rachel and Khaled then went into the other, with the last SUV seeming to be just for the RPG and their luggage. Matt could also see more people jammed inside and guessed his thoughts on this being a small army ready to spring at any threat was pretty accurate.
Rachel also noticed. “Threat level pretty high here, huh?”
“Unfortunately, always,” Khaled said as a matter of fact. “For every 10,000 people that love the rulers and their family, there will always be that one that hates us. And modern weapon technology means that one man could bring down an entire aircraft.” He turned to her. “Let alone a few people standing out in the open on a tarmac.”
Khaled smiled. “We’ll be fine, as long as we follow the instructions of our security teams.”
Rachel turned to Matt. “Remember how he said you’d be safe here?”
Matt groaned as the door was shut, heavily, and the security guards also entered their vehicles. He wondered at the extra paneling, and he tapped the glass.
“Bulletproof?”
Khaled in the front seat turned and smiled. “Yes, and an external layer of aluminum oxynitride – much lighter and tougher than traditional polymers. Can stop .50 caliber armor-piercing rounds.” He turned to Rachel. “Courtesy of the US military.”
“We get your oil, and you can have our tech.” She smiled tightly. “Good deal.”
In another few moments they were outside the airport and speeding down the wide, perfectly smooth road. The cars seemed to glide, strong, stable and silent. But Matt still felt on edge, as the guards and the driver’s eyes kept darting from side to side, never missing anything.
“Where to first?” Matt asked.
“Prince Najif al ibn Saud’s northern residence.” Khaled grinned. “He might just be able to fit a few extra guests in.”
They were soon outside of the main hub of the city and then entered another small built-up area.
“How far to the prince’s residence?” Rachel had donned her dark glasses.
“We’re within it now.” Khaled pointed to the small city. “All this land is the prince’s Riyadh estate.”
The fleet of vehicles slowed as they came to a boom gate, and half a dozen men in uniform with automatic weapons fanned out. Matt could see that there were machine guns mounted atop two taller structures, their guns weren’t pointed at them, but the men were alert and ready.
Khaled motioned to the desert out in front of the huge walls. “There are motion sensors, thermal signature detectors and a fleet of fast attack helicopters, as well as a small army of ex-Special Forces. We’ll be safe here.”
He wound down his window as a large bald man approached. Khaled greeted him in Arabic, and it was clear the two knew each other. They shook hands, as the huge guard obviously welcomed him back. Khaled pointed to each of his guests, and then turned and requested their tinted windows be dropped so he could take a look at them. Matt and Rachel complied, and the big guy’s eyes expertly passed over them, lingering for a few moments longer on Rachel.
He slapped Khaled on the shoulder, and then waved them on, speaking rapidly into a walkie-talkie as the boom lifted, and the procession moved into the main compound.
“Ho-oooly shit.” Matt’s jaw dropped. It was like another country. Sprinklers fanned the verdant grass with peacock tails of water that sparkled iridescent in the sunshine. There were palm trees, olive trees and orange trees all positioned carefully to create forest-like stands, and rose-covered gazebos were tucked in and around secret spots for private prayer or just relaxing.
The road continued on, and they had to travel another half mile before they even reached the first of the buildings and yet another large gate. This time they were ready for the entourage and the gate lifted for them as they approached. Khaled swung in his seat.
“For you lot, hmm…” He rubbed his chin for a moment before snapping his fingers.
“Either Japanese Garden, Tahiti theme, or perhaps an English forest.” He grinned. “Tahiti, I think.” He swung back around, pointing his driver to one of the offshoot avenues.
Matt raised his brows at Rachel. “Tahiti?”
As they passed by different residence modules surrounding the main complex, Matt now saw what Khaled was referring to – each of the modules was designed around a different theme. One had raked stone beds, weeping willows and peach blossom trees. There was a small stream with a tiny wooden bridge running over it. It would have been right at home somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo.
The next module was theirs, and entering the grounds, there was lush jungle, big pools of clear, blue water, and huge blooming frangipani and hibiscus trees. Matt could even see a few parrots arguing in among the foliage.
“I don’t believe it; your uncle even has parrots in the trees.” She turned. “Why don’t they fly away?”
Khaled shrugged. “To where? There is hundreds of miles of sandy desert all around us.” He showed her a line of perfect teeth. “Some pretty birds grow to love their cage, yes?”
She groaned, and Khaled pointed at another peacock roaming the grounds. “My uncle believes in authenticity. He has travelled many times to rainforests, to Japan and many other places in the world. If some part of the world takes his fancy, he will try and reproduce it here, so he can enjoy it over and over again.”
“It’s magnificent,” Matt said. He wiped his brow, the outside heat now closing in on him.
“I hope you, Agent Bromilow, and Mrs. van Helling, will enjoy it here.” He turned to watch one of his huge bodyguards open the door so Greta could lift the old woman from the SUV and lower her into her wheelchair.
“Will we get to meet the prince?” Rachel asked.
“Of course, at dinner tonight, 8 pm, a car will come for you. If you need anything at all, there are multilingual servants on hand.”
Matt nudged Rachel. “We got servants.”
Khaled waved over his shoulder and slid back into the car. Matt watched him go as he slowly unbuttoned his now-sticking shirt. “Did you see the swimming pool?”
Rachel looked over her shoulder to where Eleanor and Greta were just disappearing into their part of the mansion.
“So, my choice is, I can either go and make small talk with an angry old lady, who probably thinks I’m a waste of space, or I can go for a cool swim in a Tahiti-style swimming pool.” She turned, tapping her chin. “Golly; what to do, what to do?”
Matt waited, grinning.
Rachel started to unbutton her shirt.
*
Matt and Rachel swam, and then fucked
, and then swam some more. Matt could have happily spent a week here, weeks even, doing nothing but eating, swimming and having great sex with the limber FBI agent.
By 6.30 in the evening, Matt had stepped out of his shower, and walked into his bedroom to find racks of clothing waiting for him. There were lightweight suits, sports jackets and half a dozen pairs of shoes – all in his size.
He guessed his chinos, T-shirt and deck shoes just weren’t going to cut it when he met the prince. He turned the collar back on one of the suits.
“Holy crap, Zegna.” He whistled. Khaled was right about anything they wanted or needed would be made available to them. He was paid quite well as a Harvard Professor, but that never extended to buying Italian suits.
He pulled a crisp white shirt from a hanger and slid it on. Cool, brand new, and it felt great. He grabbed a blue single-breasted jacket and slipped it on. The fit was so good he decided he looked sharper than he had in years – and that was before he even put pants on.
“I am so keeping this outfit,” he whispered to his reflection.
He dressed quickly – socks then shoes so highly polished they reflected the overhead lights. He stood and practiced buttoning and unbuttoning the jacket, tried one hand in the pocket or not, and then checked left side and right side view. He swept his longish hair back and nodded.
“Oh yeah.”
Matt looked at his watch – 7.45 pm – Khaled was picking them up at eight, and he decided to wait out front in among the lush tropical gardens. He grabbed his folder of information, and then stepped out of his apartment.
It was still warm and light, but the sun was nearing the horizon. It would be twilight for a while – he expected sundown to be right on 8 pm. He sat down on a wooden bench just under a palm frond and leaned back, throwing both arms out wide on the bench back.
I’ve had worse field trips, he mused.
