Trusting A Sheikh (Playgrounds of Power 1) (14 page)

"The King couldn't possibly allow such a thing," the ambassador scoffed. "And besides, those prisons are both well run and well maintained – Saudi Arabia doesn't torture prisoners."

Even Chloe felt compelled to turn to the man and express her indignation at the comment, and she had to fight back the urge to do so. To his credit, Rashid refused to be cowed.

"Then, Sir," he began quietly, "it appears that either you are blind, or stupid."

The ambassador stood swiftly, knocking the chair back behind him. "I will not be spoken to like that – especially not by you!" he hissed.

"Uncle," Tariq said firmly, placing a reassuring hand on his uncle's waist to settle him down. "Please, Rashid is our guest."

In a smoldering rage, the ambassador clenched his fists and sat back down, the chair having quickly been righted by a quick-witted aide. Chloe was shocked at the man's reaction, especially since he'd given her no reason to expect that he might react like that. He'd seemed like a calm, composed – if a little misogynistic – man in their prior dealings.

"Thank you, Prince Tariq," Rashid said politely. "So now you understand what it is I'm asking for. The question is – what can you do about it?"

Tariq considered his response carefully and diplomatically, and even Chloe, who had almost no experience in the world of government and diplomacy, realized that he had more tact in his little finger than it seemed his uncle had in an entire body.

"What you're asking for will be," he paused searching for the right word, "
difficult
. I don't see that the King will bow to your demands on weapons sales. He'll see it as a matter of national security."

Rashid nodded sadly. "I imagined as much. It doesn't seem as though there's much point in us continuing this conversation. Perhaps I should go."

"Please," Tariq gestured, "stay for a little while. You can always walk out if we don't reach an agreement, okay?"

Chloe watched as Rashid battled his emotions before bottling them up and agreeing to continue. "Go on."

"Why is it that you want to prevent us buying weapons?" Tariq asked gently. "Every country on the planet buys them – after all, one of the primary responsibilities of any state is to protect its citizens. No country would allow a protester to interfere with that sacred duty. So I ask again, why try and stop it?"

Rashid mulled over the question for a second. "It's not –" he began, pausing briefly, "that I want to stop all of them," he began to say, haltingly. "But it has come to my attention that instruments of torture are being purchased by the military and the intelligence services for use on Saudi citizens under the cover of defense equipment, and that is intolerable."

"My good sir," Tariq began gently, "I've been sent over here to negotiate on behalf of my country, and I can give you my word that I've not been asked to buy anything of the sort. It is a matter of honor, and I assure you that I wouldn't associate my name, or the reputation of my family, by getting involved in such a sordid business."

Chloe watched admiringly as the Prince began settling into an almost statesmanlike role. He was calm, in control and, most of all, relaxed.

"I'm afraid you're either lying to me," Rashid said almost angrily, "or you don't see the evidence that's in front of your own eyes."

Tariq bristled, but tamped down his own anger far better than his uncle the ambassador had managed a few moments before. "What evidence do you have?"

"You have a man named Khalid in your travelling party, do you not?" Rashid asked, and Chloe felt a voice of consternation grip her stomach, not liking where this was leading.

"And what if I did?" Tariq asked, noticeably less sure of himself.

"How much do you know about the man?" Rashid demanded, growing ever more confident in his role as a defender of truth, honesty and reason.

"I don't see what business that is of yours," Tariq retorted.

"Then I don't see," Rashid began, again threatening to rise, "why I should stay in this chair if you're not willing to listen to reason."

Tariq raised his hands in a gesture of submission. "Fine, fine. Yes – Khalid travelled with me to London. What of it?"

"He has his own orders," Rashid said simply. "He's not
your
man."

"What do you mean?"

"It's simple. Do you trust him? Because I have it on good authority that he is in London to do two deals: he has been ordered to buy surveillance equipment for monitoring phone calls, and he's been told to conclude a deal for torture equipment."

"Torture equipment? How would you know?" Tariq asked, not sounding convinced.

"I'm not willing to reveal my sources – not after what happened to me in your prisons. Even if you do," he looked sharply at the ambassador, "claim that Saudi Arabia doesn't torture – I didn't believe it."

Neither did Chloe.

"But I know for a fact that it's true. Have you ever seen what electricity does to a man's skin?" he asked Tariq morbidly. "Because I have. And that's what Khalid is here to buy – vicious machines that do horrible things."

Tariq looked shocked, as though the wind had been entirely taken out of his sails. "Mr. Al Mansouri," he began, "I give you my word that I will investigate these allegations sincerely. I won't rest until I find the truth – one way or another. Can I suggest that we meet in three days’ time?"

Rashid studied Tariq's face closely, and didn't reply for a few seconds, seemingly making up his mind. "Okay, let's do it your way," he slowly conceded.

"Will you stay away from the media until we speak next? It'll give me the space that I need to investigate without being pressured from back home."

Rashid looked at the Prince sharply, questioning his motives. Tariq raised his hands in a gesture of submission. "I promise – I won't sign any deals in the meantime. If I do, go to the press and tell them how I broke my word. It'll be a good story. Deal?"

"Three days," Rashid said simply, turning on his heel and leaving without another word.

16

T
he little sea grey Ford Fiesta coughed into life outside, and ever so slowly motored its way out of the embassy gates. Tariq caught his breath as the car ever so slightly paused as Rashid edged into the road, surrounded on all sides by the intrusive cameras of the thronging media, visibly relaxing only when the car pulled off without stopping to give the media another punishing interview.

Chloe stood up, excusing herself, and left the room to give Tariq and his uncle a bit of privacy – she had no real desire to be between them, especially given what she'd seen of the ambassador's hot temper.

Once again, she found herself in the little alcove behind the bronze bust of the King's head, and started playing on her phone. It was a nice little spot, a little refuge from the huge, grandiose embassy, and Chloe liked it. She quickly lost herself in the game she was playing, fully absorbed in a colorful world of small, cartoonish, jumping action figures, and for a long time didn't notice that she'd been joined on the other side of the lobby by two men who weren't aware of her presence.

"He must know," she heard a familiar, accented voice say. "It's him or us."

"What can we do? Surely we can't do anything, not now?"

"It's a risk either way," the familiar voice mused. "I say we do it quickly, make it look like an accident."

"Who's going to believe that? He's been all over the news."

"Okay," the first voice conceded. "Here's what we'll do…" The voices trailed off as the two men left Chloe’s earshot, much as she strained to keep listening. She knew that voice, she knew she did – but who was it?

And what were they talking about? Whatever it was – it wasn't good.

Now shaken, Chloe couldn't concentrate on the game, and rested her back against the cool marble wall of the lobby, trying her hardest to remember where she'd heard that voice before. It wasn't long before the realization hit her like a thunderbolt – and she clapped her hand against her head, berating herself for not realizing it sooner. Of course – it was Khalid.

So what had she overheard? Was he planning on taking out a hit on Rashid? Because it certainly sounded like it. And if he was – what should she do about it?

Chloe crept back into the ambassador’s drawing room, her face white. Neither man left inside had noticed her, and she saw that Tariq was locked in an intense discussion with his uncle.

"You're walking a fine line, Tariq. I hope you know what you're doing."

"What else can I do?"

"Be careful – there are people back home who won't hesitate to intervene if they sense their interests are being threatened; and don't think they wouldn't target you."

"I'm well aware of the danger." Tariq grimaced. "But it's risky either way."

"So it is," the ambassador agreed quietly before suddenly noticing Chloe had returned. "Ah, Miss Rouhani. You okay?" he asked, a sudden hint of concern entering his voice. "You've gone all white…"

Chloe came closer. "I'm fine," she forced out. "Perhaps just a little hungry, that's all."

"Can I get something for you from the kitchen?" the ambassador asked.

"No, don't worry. I'm visiting my parents for dinner tonight, so I'll just get a chocolate bar at the train station to keep me going."

"If you're sure?"

"I am, but thanks very much," Chloe replied.

"Are you off now?" Tariq asked, receiving an assenting nod in response. "Let me walk you out."

Chloe was completely flustered – she didn't know what the hell was going on, or who she could trust, and a thousand thoughts ran through her mind like a stampeding herd of cattle as she followed Tariq wordlessly out of the drawing room. She knew that Khalid was evil, and planning on doing bad things – that much was obvious. The question was, who had he been talking to? And the larger question – the one she could barely bring herself to ask – did she trust Tariq?

"Outside." She didn't so much ask Tariq to step out with her as order it – all too aware now of how the acoustics in the lobby allowed people to listen into private conversations. They stepped out the front door, standing underneath the colonnades in the cool November afternoon, Tariq wearing a concerned look on his face.

"What's up?" he asked as soon as the door had swung shut. "What's going on?"

Chloe paced up and down, making sure that she was out the ambassador's eyesight – who knew whether she could trust him or not?

"I'm going to tell you something," she said in a frantic tone of voice. "And I need you to do something about it."

"Okay," Tariq said with a concerned grin on his face. Trying to lighten the mood, he said, "I'm sure it can't be that bad…"

Chloe barely heard him. "But first I need to ask you a question – and you need to answer me truthfully, okay?"

Again, Tariq replied affirmatively. "Go on…"

"Why did you ask Rashid for three days? What are you going to do with the time?"

"Why do you ask?" Tariq replied, surprised – as though that was the last question he'd expected her to ask.

"It doesn't matter," Chloe fired back quickly. "I just need you to answer it." Chloe had quickly realized that if Tariq was somehow in on the plot with Khalid, then what she was about to say could have extremely negative consequences for her own safety. She looked at Tariq's face carefully, searching for any evidence that he was lying.

"I need time for my people back home to look into the truth of these allegations about Khalid," Tariq finally said, a baffled look on his face. "If they are true, I'm going to need evidence – I can't just act on my own. And even if I find the evidence I’m looking for, it's no secret that my country's human rights record isn't exactly squeaky clean. Even if I get it, who knows if it'll help?"

"How can you do it?" Chloe blurted out. "Represent a government that you know has the potential to be evil?"

"Why are you asking all these questions?" Tariq asked, more than a little angered by what Chloe had just said. "I think I have a right to know."

It was, oddly enough, exactly that anger that convinced Chloe of Tariq's innocence – or at least, his innocence as far as Khalid's plot was concerned. Looking at his face, the way the worry lines were contorted with righteous anger as he defended himself from her own attacks, she knew that either he had nothing to do with Khalid's plan, or he was a far more dangerous liar then she believed was possible. Having spent the night with the man, getting to know him in the most intimate, sensitive way – she knew more about Tariq than she had at first realized.

"Okay, okay," she relented. "I trust you…"

"Thanks, I guess?" Tariq replied.

Chloe leaned against one of the clean, white colonnades, feeling the chill of the November weather immediately transmitting itself through her clothing. "I overheard something… Something terrible."

The anger on Tariq's face was immediately replaced by the concern she'd noticed was so quick to respond where she was concerned. "What is it?" he asked tenderly. "You can tell me, whatever it is."

"I think Khalid is planning on killing Rashid," Chloe said bluntly, knowing better than to hide the meaning of her words. She just left them hanging in the air, watching the shock of what she had just said reverberate through Tariq, his reaction writ large across his face.

"What?" Tariq spluttered. "How do you know? Why? What?" The questions fell out of him like a waterfall, and it took a long few moments before he was able to reassert control over his mind in his normal fashion. Chloe let the shock subside before replying.

"I just heard him speaking to someone. I didn't get all the details – but I've got no doubt that's what they were talking about."

"How can you be sure?" Tariq asked, the hard look that Chloe was beginning to learn signaled his resolve returning to his face.

"They were talking about the man on the television," Chloe said dryly, finding some dark humor in the situation. "And talking about how they'd make it look like an accident… I'm pretty sure they weren't talking about a cooking program."

"Shit," was all Tariq could say. "Shit, shit, shit."