Blink of an Eye (39 page)

“It is? That's wonderful! And do you know, was there a wedding there recently? In the past few days?”

“I could never tell you that. You are a man,” she would have said.

And indeed, she never would tell him. But she just had, hadn't she? The conversation could have become interesting, but he had what he needed.

Seth whirled from the railing. He had to find a way to the Villa Amour. He had less than an hour before the clairvoyance ended. Maybe a lot less.

chapter 35

k
ing Abdullah stormed into his office, furious. Incompetence surrounded him. He felt vulnerable without his security chief, who lay dead in a box somewhere on its way back to Saudi Arabia. Hilal would have ended this madness already if he hadn't gotten himself killed. For that Abdullah blamed the Americans.

“How many men do they have?” he asked, sliding behind his desk.

General Mustafa crossed his legs. “The sheik claims to have ten thousand just beyond the city to the west.”

Abdullah eyed his brother. This man had persuaded him not to act after receiving the call from the American secretary of state. With the crown prince in Indonesia, Abdullah weighed his general's advice and agreed. Now that Khalid had taken control of the palace perimeter, Abdullah wondered whether General Mustafa was not divided himself.

“Where is the crown prince?”

“His plane has been turned back to Jakarta,” Mustafa said. “Khalid has taken control of the airport as well.”

The airport!
“Ahmed is with Khalid?”

“It would seem so.”

“How many other ministers?”

“At least twelve. Khalid has planned this for a long time to have such a broad base of support.”

Abdullah stared out the window. The sky was blue. A pigeon soared by. It wasn't the first time a prince had tried to remove him from power—the threat was constant. But this one seemed to have some momentum. “You are speaking about my death, General. Not a political rally.”

“No, Your Highness. They've made no such threats. They've given you twelve hours to evacuate the government. If they planned to storm the palace, they would have done it already, when they had the advantage of surprise.”

“Don't be a fool. They've given me twelve hours only to appease the half of the city that supports me. They have no intention of allowing me to walk out of here alive. I've always been a threat to the militants.”

The general waited before answering. “Perhaps they have other plans to contain that threat.”

“I have no intention of rotting in a cell. How many men does Khalid have outside now?”

“It's not how many, sir. It's where he has them. They control all of the security outside the palace itself. And they control most of the ministries.”

“No change in the military?”

“No. Both the air force and the army are standing down. They aren't necessarily with Khalid, but they aren't against him either.”

“So in the end, Khalid's real force consists of the sheik's men?”

“Yes. And the sheik has another twenty thousand standing by.”

Abdullah closed his eyes and thought about the events that had led up to this moment. His predecessor, King Fahd, had always prevailed, using both cunning and brute force. Cunning was all Abdullah had. Cunning and the Americans.

“We still have communications?” he asked.

“No telephones,” General Mustafa said.

“Then get a message out with a courier. You can do that, can't you, General?”

“Perhaps. Yes, I think so.”

Abdullah opened his eyes. “Good. Let the city know what's happening here. We will create as much confusion in the streets as we can. Tell them that the Shia have besieged the palace. That should get a reaction. Sheik Al-Asamm is the key. Perhaps we could do what Khalid has done. Perhaps we could dislodge his loyalty to Khalid.”

The general was silent.

“What do you think, General? Can the sheik's allegiance be shaken?”

“I don't know. If it can, Khalid will fail. But Al-Asamm is bound by marriage, and he's a traditional man.”

“Yet he broke his bond with me.”

“Only because the religious leaders agreed that he could, under the circumstances.”

“And what about you, General? Where do your loyalties lie?”

“With the king.”

“And if Khalid were king?”

“The king will be whomever Allah has willed. But I believe that he has willed you, Your Highness.”

“I see. And is Khalid following God's will?”

The general didn't have an answer. Conviction had divided the country between fundamentalists and more moderate Muslims. But like many, Mustafa himself was probably torn. Fatalism was indeed convenient at times.

“If I don't hear rioting within the hour, I will assume you haven't spread the word, General. That is all.”

“The coup is six hours old from what we can gather, but we have no direct contact with the House of Saud so we can't be sure,” Smaley said. “You're still in Colorado Springs?”

So Seth had been right! Clive shifted the cell phone to his right hand. “I'm on my way to the airport now. You're saying that Khalid bin Mishal has actually succeeded?”

“Too soon to call it.”

“Then Seth may be our only hope.”

“As far as I'm concerned, he's dead in the water. He obviously failed to disrupt the wedding, and we haven't heard a thing from him. You, on the other hand, may be able to help us out.” Smaley paused. “Look, you were right on this one, and you have my apologies. Meanwhile, we have a serious situation on our hands. Khalid has sealed off our embassy in Riyadh and both consulates in Dhahran and Jidda. We have no idea how Jordan and his staff are doing; communications are down. It's a mess.”

“Miriam's alive?” Clive asked.

“We assume so. Sheik Al-Asamm has gathered a pretty decent force east of the city. Which is why we want you back in the lab with that last scenario Seth ran. Was the sheik a factor in Seth's simulation?”

Clive used his free hand to maneuver the car into a 7-Eleven. “He must have been. In any real scenario the sheik would have to be dealt with. You want me to analyze the actions of the sheik and Omar in Seth's scenario? Makes sense.” He swung the car around.

“The techs are already doing it, but they don't have your sense of this thing. We think that our best hope may rest with the sheik. We need to know his weaknesses, his responses to real situations. If Seth's scenario was real, it could give us that, right?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Do you have contact with the sheik?”

“Not yet, but we think we can get to his personal line. Either way, we don't have a lot of time here.”

Clive motored back onto the 24 bypass and headed for Cheyenne Mountain. “I'm on my way. So nothing from Seth, huh?”

“Not on this end. That may be a good thing. The last thing we need is for some maniac American to walk in and kidnap the sheik's daughter. We need Al-Asamm's cooperation, not his anger.”

“You still don't get him, do you, Peter? It's a good thing he's beyond your reach now. At the very least, don't go out of your way to stop him.”

“For all we know, he's dead,” Smaley said. “You should've never let him go. Forget it, Clive. He's no longer a factor.”

Clive wanted to object, but on the surface, the deputy secretary made sense. For all he knew, Seth had lost his gift altogether by now. And if Miriam was married . . .

Still, even without clairvoyance, Seth was no idiot.

“I'll call you if I get anything,” Clive said. He turned the phone off.

chapter 36

t
ime was everything now. Seth found a taxi driver who knew the location of the Villa Amour. Despite butchering a few words in Arabic while using his best impression of a woman's voice, Seth convinced the driver to take him. But the effort wasted half an hour.

A tall wall ran around the villa, and guards stood at the gates. Didn't matter—he saw no way past the gate anyway. The only way to sneak in was over the wall at the south end. Thank the stars he was still seeing.

He ran as best he could in the abaaya without looking like a wounded bat. He jumped for the top of the wall, caught it, and hauled himself over.

The villas were called palaces, and he could see why at first glance. Tall Greek pillars framed a fifteen-foot entrance made of wood. But he had no intention of using the front door. It was the servants' housing near the back that interested him.

Not so long ago, he would have been able to stand here and know precisely what was in the villa by scanning through possible futures. But at the moment he was capturing only glimpses, like at the start of this whole mess, when he'd first seen Miriam about to be attacked in the ladies' room at Berkeley.

Seth ran under cover of bushes and palm trees that lined a huge fountain, spinning through the questions that had plagued him during the long cab ride. Why hadn't he seen Miriam in any future? This was Omar's newest villa; he knew at least that. And he knew that a wedding had been performed here recently. But he still did not know with certainty that Omar had married Miriam here or, if he had, that she was still here.

Seth swallowed hard, aware of how thin his chances were. He placed his hope in the Filipino maid who would engage him in the servants' quarters. He didn't know how cooperative she'd be, but he had seen that she would talk to him. At least he had that.

One step at a time, Seth. Just one step.

He paused at the door and glanced back. He couldn't take his seeing for granted anymore. He put his hand on the knob and turned. The door swung in.

A wood table, window coverings made of sheets, and an old wood stove furnished the dim room. A dark-skinned woman, unveiled and dressed in a dirty tunic, turned from the stove, eyes wide.

Seth stepped in and closed the door. She would talk to him, in English. He knew that, but he also knew that he had to come off as a woman.

“Hello, could you help me, please?” he said, afraid his voice would crack. Sounded like a woman to him. The servant just stared at him.

“I'm an American,” he said. “I beg you for assistance.”

“American?” She glanced at the window, obviously terrified. Filipino servants—Muslims who'd come to the cradle of Islam in search of work—were common in Saudi Arabia, but their employers often mistreated them.

“Yes. I am willing to pay you.” Seth slipped his hand under the abaaya, took a wad of U.S. bills from his front pocket, a couple hundred dollars, and held it out to her. “Please.”

She looked at the money for a moment, glanced one more time at the window, and then reached for the cash eagerly. By the look in her eyes, it was probably more than she'd seen at one time in her whole life.

“I must speak to the woman who is here. Her name is Miriam.” The servant fixated on the bills. “She was married here, yes?”

The woman looked up, untrusting.

“Please, she's my friend. You must help me.”

“No woman married here,” the servant said.

Darkness dumped into Seth's mind. No! He was blind again!

He gasped. The woman took a step backward. He was standing in the middle of a guarded palace on the Arabian Peninsula with a coup raging about him, and he was blind.

Dear God, help me!

“Please!”

“You're a man!” she said.

He cleared the frog from his throat and hitched his voice up an octave. “Please, I didn't mean to startle you. I have a pain in my stomach.” That was ridiculous.

“No marriage,” she said. “You cannot be here! If I am caught, they will beat!”

Seth reached out a reassuring hand, and then pulled it back when the hair showed, thoroughly unfeminine. “No, they will
not
catch you. I will go. But I must know. I will pay more.”

He reached into his pocket and removed another bill. It was a hundred. “Here, take it.”

She reached forward, but this time he pulled the money back. “Tell me. Where is the woman?”

She eyed him carefully and then looked at the money.

“Yes. There was a wedding,” she said.

“When?”

“Last evening.”

That was it! It had to be!

“Where is she?”

The woman held out her hand. “Give me money.”

Seth gave it to her.

“I don't know,” she said. “You go now. You go!” She picked up a broom and jabbed it at him. “You go now!”

Seth dispensed with his attempt at a woman's voice. “Tell me where she is!” he boomed.

The poor servant dropped her mouth in shock and then swung the broom. It hit him on the head, and he threw up an arm to ward off continuing blows. She began to squeal. The ruckus would be the end of him.

“Okay! Hush!
Sh
.”

She continued beating at him, unfazed. Seth fled and slammed the door behind him. He ran five paces before thinking he must look like anything but a graceful Saudi woman. He pulled up, heart pounding. But the grounds were still quiet.