Out of Control (16 page)

Ara’s gaze moved to Robichaud. “He also admires Nick, whom he believes to be a man
of honor. He’ll listen to him.”

Robichaud shook his head. “No. He’ll have me arrested, along with Blair and both of
you. Right now he needs a scapegoat he can point to and say to the people,
See, here are the culprits!
Last night before the explosion, we had a fighting chance to stop it. The king could
have discovered for himself who was responsible, while keeping it quiet. Now he needs
someone to take the fall for the explosions, to calm the people and prevent fear and
chaos. The four of us landing on his doorstep would be like handing him our heads
on a platter.”

Faisal listened and must have taken Nick’s words to heart. He swung into the parking
lot of a large hotel, angled into a slot, and stopped the car. “What you say makes
sense, but what can we do? Hakeem will get away with this and be appointed to the
board. He’ll have access to everything and the ability to do far worse. The king should
be made aware of his treachery.”

Robichaud looked across the large backseat and met my eyes. I knew exactly what he
was thinking.

I moved up on the seat and carefully leaned over so I was speaking directly to Faisal.
“Unless I miss my guess, Hakeem’s father is with the king right this minute, blaming
you for the explosion. He’ll talk about your wish for change, and remind the king
of your supposed criminal activity in the States. He’ll try to convince him you’ve
thrown in your lot with terrorists. If I’m right, any attempt by you or your sister
to point the finger at Hakeem will backfire in a very bad way.”

He blanched, then nodded his agreement. “I see your point.”

“Hakeem has managed to get this far because he’s gathered loyal people around him,
and his parents support him in all things. But the man’s a blowhard. He’s arrogant
and a demanding jerk around anyone who isn’t one of the senior royals. There’s no
doubt in my mind he has lots of enemies, some in high places. They’re unwilling to
cross him for the same reason your father won’t, which is fear of making the king
angry. You should gather those people together and ask them for their ideas about
how to knock Hakeem off the king’s pedestal. The first one I’d ask is your father.”

I could see his immediate hesitation.

“If you talk to your father and tell him you’re not going to stand by and let Hakeem
run roughshod over you any longer, it may give him the impetus to do the same.”

“She’s right, Faisal,” Ara said. “And you
should
talk to Father. Haven’t I said the same thing, many times?”

Robichaud said, “Hakeem must be disappointed at the minimal damage at Ras Tanura.
A man like him wants to make a big statement. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s got
something else planned. Money dropped into the right hands might get you some information,
including names of his contacts. I doubt Hakeem personally recruited the barnacle
scraper to blow himself up, which means one of his lapdogs must have done it.”

Faisal looked from me to Robichaud, his expression sad. “He’s my cousin, but I never
understood him, even when we were boys. My mind doesn’t work this way, you see?”

“Sure,” Robichaud said. “Mine didn’t either, until my brother was murdered. After
that, I couldn’t help thinking this way. Every man I meet is suspect until he proves
himself otherwise.” He shrugged. “You get used to it, Faisal. Yes, it’d be nice to
feel only friendship toward other men, to trust in their goodness. But to ignore the
evil nature of some men and tolerate their betrayal is to put yourself and your family
at risk.”

Ara regarded him. “Your brother was murdered for what reason?”

Nick raked his hand through his hair and jetted out a harsh breath. “Because, like
your brother, he believed in the goodness of men.”

Chapter Eleven

After that, it didn’t take much to convince Ara and Faisal they didn’t need us to
help them get the goods on Hakeem. They agreed to take us to see their father and
get an exit permit, then drive us to the airport. We needed to get out as fast as
possible. Not only because Hakeem still posed a threat, but because it was a seriously
bad time to be an American in Saudi Arabia. In several squares we passed, crowds had
gathered, chanting and waving signs Robichaud said were calls to revolution, death
to Americans, and demands for all of us to get out. One man waved an American flag
with a giant red “X” painted across it.

Faisal said they’d all eventually be arrested, but I saw no police or military presence.
There was a feverish quality to the crowds we passed, and I suspected if they knew
there were Americans in the car they’d take us out and tear us apart.

When we arrived at their house, Kaliq was apologetic for his nephew’s treatment of
us, and it kind of amazed me how he managed to beat around the gigantic bush that
was the explosion at Ras Tanura. He never even mentioned it. He did, however, tell
us his engineers were enthusiastic about our blowout preventer prototype, and he would
order several as soon as he could get to the office. I thought he could actually trump
my parents at avoiding an unpleasant subject.

We were set to leave when Nick turned back, as if he’d forgotten something. He looked
Kaliq square in the eye and said evenly, “By the way, the blowout preventer was largely
Blair’s brainchild. She and another engineer at Lacrouix and Book developed the project
two years ago, and have been testing it for the past twelve months. As I said in our
meeting yesterday, there’ve been zero blowouts during the test period.”

Kaliq looked at me—finally, really looked at me—and said solemnly, “You are indeed
a brilliant woman. Congratulations for a project well done.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He shook my hand. For a man of the old school like Kaliq that was a big deal, and
I looked suitably grateful. Even as it pissed me off. I’d never thought of myself
as much of a feminist. Not until this trip. How dare he consider me a second class
citizen, just because I was born female?

It took every ounce of the forbearance and genteel manners my mother had pounded into
my head to keep from telling him I could have averted the disaster at Ras Tanura if
it weren’t for the stupid, ridiculous, archaic policies of his government concerning
women.

Mama would have been proud.

I thanked him for his hospitality, lifted my chin, and followed Robichaud out the
door. The
front
door.

At the airport, Ara and Faisal walked with us to the customs office and said goodbye
there, promising to visit, perhaps not soon, but someday. We thanked them again for
saving our lives, wished them well, and waved goodbye.

Customs took very little time, probably because we had a personal letter from Kaliq
requesting we be allowed to leave as expeditiously as possible. I expected to be hassled
anyway because of Ras Tanura, but our bags were given a cursory look and we were quickly
escorted across the tarmac to the Lacrouix and Book private jet. Ted and Hank were
there waiting for us. We’d called them while we were still at Kaliq’s and they’d sounded
relieved to be going home. “Shit’s gone crazy,” Hank had said.

Once on board, I sat in my seat and stared out the window while the ground crew loaded
our luggage and a few pieces of cargo. I half expected Hakeem to come racing toward
the plane and demand we get off. I didn’t relax until we began to taxi down the runway,
and even then, I was still tense and anxious. Finally, when we were in the air, I
was able to catch my breath—although not without discomfort. My ribs were killing
me.

Robichaud called his covert ops guy, Jamie, after we took off and they spoke briefly.
When he hung up, he gave me a look. “How about a trip to DC?”

“No, thanks.”

He leaned back and opened his phone, talking as he dialed. “It’s not negotiable. We
have to be debriefed.”

“Oh, hell. I just want to go home.” I watched him raise the phone to his ear. “Who’re
you calling?”

“Sweet.” He talked for several minutes, never smiling, sounding sober as a preacher.
When he ended the call, he looked at me and said, “He really does love you.”

“Did he say that?”

“Not in so many words, but he told me if I didn’t get you back in one piece, he’d
personally kill me, and enjoy it.” He moved to sit beside me on the wide seat and
carefully pulled me close. I was limp with relief, but choked up with grief. What
a long road we’d travelled in two short weeks, and it had all ended so damn badly.
Deke was dead. A.J. was in jail. Saudi Arabia was on the verge of civil war. And the
man who’d caused it all was now a multi-millionaire, with rights to one of the most
prolific petroleum fields in the United States. He was also all set to ruin my sister’s
life.

“Let’s kill Cole Fox,” I mumbled. I was only half joking.

“We’ll talk about him later. For now, let’s eat a bite, then catch some sleep. These
seats can be made into a bed. Did you know that?”

“How would I? Those of us who work in the field have to fly on big crates with hard-ass
seats. No posh jets for us grunts.”

“Yeah. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

I pulled away and looked up at his face. “Does it bug you that I’m not more girly?”

“Sugar, you’re girly in all the ways that matter.” He jerked his head toward the galley.
“Now get in there and fix your man some chow.”

“Do you know how
not
funny you are?” But I smiled anyway, and watched far too adoringly as he went to
the galley and popped in some microwave dinners.

While I ate nuked turkey and dressing, I said, “I wish Conaway was here. She’d cook
us something tasty.”

“Maybe you should call her. She’s gotta be freaking out.”

“She could also call off the hackers who were supposed to find out if Dylan or his
father bought oil futures. We know now that one or both of them is behind Ras Tanura.”

I finished the dinner and pulled my cell out of my pack. It was almost out of battery
life, but I figured we couldn’t talk long anyway. We’d be out of range of any cell
tower fairly soon.

She answered after the first ring and it took a minute to calm her down because she
was, indeed, in hysterics. Once she understood that we were safe and on our way home,
she stopped cussing and carrying on, and started crying. “Jesus, I thought you were
done for, Blair. Everybody at the office did too. We’ve been glued to the television
since the news broke late this afternoon.”

It was one o’clock in the morning in New Orleans. “You’re at the Lacrouix and Book
office?”

“Been here every day since you left, hanging out, using your computer, letting Cash
flirt with me.”

I blinked. “You’re not still at the office, are you?”

“Hell, yes. Sweet called from the blowout to let us know you were okay, but I didn’t
believe it. God, I’m so glad you called.”

I smiled, in spite of everything. I really, really liked Leslie Conaway. “I guess
you already figured out Dylan didn’t win the bid.”

“Yeah, but he did clean up on oil futures.” She snickered. “He’ll need those to pay
his attorney bill. His dad didn’t buy any, so it doesn’t look like he had a clue what
Junior was up to. But he does now—the FBI traced the explosive sales to Dylan.”

I really didn’t want to ask, but thought of my new truce with my father. “A.J.?”

Conaway gave a disgusted snort. “A.J. managed to find an alibi, some snotty eastern
chick he’s been boinking behind her daddy’s back. She didn’t want to step up to the
plate, but her conscience got the best of her, I guess, and she admitted she and A.J.
were hanging out while somebody else set those blowouts.”

I remembered the picture in A.J.’s office and mentally shrugged. He’d never change.
All the same, he shouldn’t go to prison for something he didn’t do.

“So it looks like the FBI is digging deeper.”

Speaking of which… “When I get back, we need to figure out what to do with Cole Fox,”
I said. “Talk about a dark horse. I had no idea he was the brains behind it all until
he walked into our host’s house in Saudi with Hakeem.”

Dead silence answered me. I thought we’d lost the connection, until she said in a
voice laced with shock, “Cole Fox? What are you talking about?”

Didn’t she know? Crap. “He’s the one who won the bid. And get this—his inside guy
was my sister, who’s been having an affair with him.”

“Holy shit, Blair, something’s way wrong here. Cole Fox didn’t win the bid.”

I sat up straight and shot Robichaud a look. Wait. “If he didn’t, who did?”

“Are you sitting down?”

“Yeah.”

“Our old buddy and favorite rapist asshole, Tim Fresh.”

“
What?
”

“That’s right. Mister Homeland Security. I checked and he bought oil futures with
an August first exercise date. He also bought a huge lot of them dated August eighth.”

My mind was spinning. “But Cole confessed! He stood there and told me how he did it
all, how he got my sister to leak the bid amounts.”

“Well, either he’s working for Tim Fresh, or he’s been outfoxed, because I’m absolutely
positive Tim won the bid. I called your dad’s office and asked.”

“Oh, my God.
That’s
why that dossier was on Dylan’s desk.
He
stole it and was returning it before Dylan got back and missed it.”

“He was probably in Dylan’s house looking for information about Ras Tanura. If we’d
gotten there a few minutes later, we’d never have seen the maps or the commodities
information.”

“But how would he have known about it at all, unless he was involved?”

“Hello? Homeland Security? He can spy on anyone he suspects of terrorism. He could
have planted bugs, or maybe was digging for more information about Parnell and broke
into Cole’s house. He could have found something at Parnell’s before the FBI got to
it. He was always with them, remember?”

Jesus
. “This is blowing my mind.” My phone beeped. “I’m losing battery, so I have to go.
Thanks for everything, Leslie.”

“It’s cool. Just get your ass home.”

The phone died then and I was bummed I didn’t get to say goodbye.

I set it on the little cocktail table and relayed all she’d said to Nick. He was as
shocked as me, but far more on point. “Wait until we get to DC. Tim will have a lot
of questions to answer. Trust me, my people won’t buy his bullshit.”

I imagine his covert CIA group knew some interesting techniques for getting at the
truth.

We hit some turbulence and something banged very loudly in the cargo area. Nick pulled
a face. “Ted must have forgotten to strap down the bags. I’ll go check on it.” He
stood and weaved his way to the back of the plane, then disappeared through the narrow
door.

I sat back and replayed everything in my head, trying to figure out how Tim had managed
to turn the plot totally to his favor like that. Was he just an opportunist who saw
something going down that he could profit from? Or had he been the brains behind it
all from the very beginning?

A few minutes later, I got my answer.

The door to the cargo hold opened, but instead of Robichaud returning to the cabin,
Tim Fresh stepped through the doorway. Hakeem was hard on his heels. No sign of Cole.

Or Robichaud.

They must have stowed away in the cargo hold.

What had they done to Nick? My heart beat in quadruple time. If I screamed loud enough
would Hank or Ted hear me? Would it really matter? Somebody had to fly the plane,
and just one of them couldn’t take on the two men now moving into the cabin. Three,
if Cole was also on board.

I swallowed and fought for control. Freaking out wasn’t going to help.

They casually sat down, Hakeem on the seat opposite and Tim next to me. Close. Touching
close. He did it on purpose, I know, to intimidate me. Knowing I’d remember that night
at Dylan’s. He was right, but I forced myself to remain calm, not to reveal how frightened
I was.

“It’s a little different without a shotgun, isn’t it?”

I ignored him and looked at Hakeem. “Where’s Cole?”

He nodded toward Tim. “Cole was given the choice of allowing Tim to share, or going
to prison. I’m sure you can guess which he chose, but Tim changed the rules a bit
when he outbid Cole for the Alaskan oil rights. This was unacceptable to Cole and
he threatened to call Tim’s superiors.”

The implication was clear. I said dully, “Cole’s dead.”

Tim leaned back and crossed his legs. “His own fault. He was too sure of himself,
and not careful enough to cover his tracks.”

“Just like Dylan, he probably didn’t realize the need to hide things in his own home.
Nobody told him about rogue Homeland Security agents.” I kept my focus on Hakeem,
because to look at Tim was to throw up. “I thought Cole was your friend.”

He shrugged, as if it was of no importance. “We made plans that were of benefit to
both of us. It makes no difference who assists me.” His eyes were as cold and emotionless
as a snake’s.

“Why are you here?”

His expression grew impatient. “You’re far too curious, and a thorn in my side. You
and Robichaud were to be taken out in the desert and shot, but here you are, again,
being a pest.” He glanced toward the cargo hold. “Your boyfriend was easy enough to
kill, and you’re just a little thing, but really, this is a headache.”

It’s wrong to hate, I know, but my level of hatred right then was enough to choke
me. They’d killed Robichaud and I wanted to kill them more than I wanted to live.
If I’d had a gun, I would’ve happily blasted holes in their heads and never even blinked.

But I didn’t have a gun. I had absolutely nothing to protect myself with.

Tim glanced at his watch. “Probably need to get on with it, don’t you think?”