The Secret Soldier

remained unchosen.

“KHALID IS READY, ” ABDULLAH said now.

“More ready than Mansour? Or the rest of his cousins?”

“You compare Mansour to my son?”

“It’s not only Mansour. Saeed has waited his turn. And our other brothers. And after that, a whole new generation.”

“Stand up, my brother.”

Miteb pushed himself off the couch, wheezing, his breath unsteady.

“You want to be king? Is that what this is? Then go ahead. Slake your thirst. Take my crown.”

“My brother, don’t slander me.” Miteb sat down heavily on the couch, which creaked under his bulk. “I know my age. Unlike you. I tell anyone who asks, I don’t want the crown.”

“Then help me. Tell our brothers. Khalid is ready.”

“Abdullah, you don’t know how alone you are.”

“I listen to my brothers—”

“Your brothers beg you to stop. And you refuse. Saeed wants you gone, yes. But the others don’t want to oppose you. Because they love you.”

“And don’t love Saeed.”

“Because you’ve ruled wisely. Until this foolishness. But Khalid is only fifty. You’re asking Mansour and all our sons to give up any chance at the throne.”

“Only Khalid is strong enough to move against these rejectionists who set off these bombs. These men who want girls to marry their uncles.”

“Let me ask you, Abdullah. Has Khalid ever told you he wants this?”

“Of course.” Though Abdullah was lying. The only time he’d ever discussed his plans with Khalid, Khalid had said something like, If that’s what you want, father. An answer that had been enough for Abdullah. He’d never asked again.

“Admit the truth, Abdullah. To yourself, if not me. Khalid may be a good king, and he may not. None of us know. Khalid is the flesh of your flesh, and that’s why you want him to rule. Drop this plan or you’ll return us to the days of Ali and Uthman”—seventh-century Muslim leaders who engaged in bloody power struggles after the death of Muhammad.

“Not as long as he has the National Guard.”

In Saudi Arabia the force known as the National Guard functioned almost as a second army. The Guard trained and ran separately from the regular Saudi military and existed mainly to protect the royal family from the threat of a coup. Its soldiers were mostly Bedouins whose tribes were considered loyal to the family. Abdullah had controlled the Guard for forty years, long before he became king. A few months before, he had turned the force over to his son.

“You think that giving him the Guard makes him safe, Abdullah. But it’s the opposite. It makes the other princes think they have to take power by force.” Miteb pulled himself off the couch, sat on the ottoman beside Abdullah.

“Say what you mean, Miteb. You think that our family is working with these terrorists. Against me. And my son. You wish that I reward them for that? For betraying me? Attacking Riyadh? Never, Miteb. The snakes in my court, I’ll cast them out. It’s time. Time and past time.”

“Who, Abdullah? Who are the snakes? You don’t even know.”

“How can I know? They come to me with their fine words and their smiles, and promise me their love.”

“Because you’ve isolated yourself. Staying in this palace alone. Making the rest of us fly from Riyadh to see you. The ones who love you and believe that you’re right, the system must change, they’re frightened. Those that oppose you, they’re growing more bold. I don’t know if you can stop them anymore. You surely can’t trust the mukhabarat.”

“There’s always the Guard.”

“Promise me you and Khalid won’t use the Guard. If you try, then the army will interfere and there will be war.”

“I promise you only this, Miteb. My son will be king. Leave me if you wish.”

THE TWO MEN SAT in silence for a minute that stretched to five and ten. Finally Miteb knelt at his brother’s feet, his joints popping audibly. He lifted Abdullah’s hand and kissed it. “You’re a fat old fool. But I can’t leave you now.”

“Because you know Khalid should be king.”

“Enough of Khalid. I’m your brother, and I’ve always done what you asked, and we’re both too old to change. If this is what you want, I’ll help. Maybe somehow I can convince the others. But we’ve got to keep the Guard out of it.”

Abdullah stood and pulled Miteb up, and the two old men hugged and swayed back and forth, each braced against the other’s bulk, aged sumo wrestlers in long white cloaks.

“Miteb, my friend.” But even so, Abdullah felt the darkness creeping close. For the briefest moment, he wondered whether he ought to give up, let Saeed have the crown. And after Saeed, the next generation of al-Sauds could fight among themselves. But he shook his head—No, no—and opened his eyes. He wouldn’t let the darkness have him yet.

CHAPTER 6

NORTH CONWAY, NEW HAMPSHIRE

“WHAT HAPPENED THEN?”

“I’ll tell you in the morning.”

Anne arranged herself around Wells, her breasts touching his back, her nose in the crook of his shoulder. “Come on, out with it.” She tugged his ear.

“Then… then he took off. Sprinted all the way to Montego, jumped on a cruise ship. He’s probably having cocktails with some honeymooners as we speak.”

“Idiot.”

“I told him who I was. He’d never seen me before. He looked me up and down, didn’t say anything. I should have worried he was going for a weapon, but I didn’t. He walked up the stairs to his bedroom. I followed him. He wasn’t running, and neither was I. He reached under his bed, and then I did start to wonder, but he came up with a suitcase. Unzipped it and started packing. Like he was going on vacation.”

“What I want to know is how he looked. What he said.”

Around them, the old house settled, timbers creaking like a sailboat on the open ocean. Tonka roused herself from the rug at the foot of Anne’s bed, looked around, sighed, and lay down again.

“He asked me if Janice told me where he was. I didn’t answer. Then he got mad. He seemed angrier that she’d broken the vow she’d made on their son’s grave than anything else. He started ranting about her. I cooled him off.”

“How’d you do that, John?”

“I expressed my dismay. I’m very persuasive, you know.” In fact, Wells had given Keith “Eddie” Robinson what kids in junior high called a swirly. Picked him up, dunked his head in the toilet. Lucky for Robinson, the water was clean. “After he was calm, I sat him down and told him he would have to confess to everything, no trial. I told him he owed that much to Janice.”

“And what would you have done if he said no?”

“He didn’t say no.”

“But if he did?”

“Then I would have threatened to tell the dealers he was buying from that he was working for the DEA.”