“Be that as it may, our mutual friend in the Kremlin would like a clear signal of your intentions.”
And so it begins, thought Abdullah. The pressure to live up to his end of the deal. Cautiously, he asked, “What sort of signal?”
“One that makes it abundantly clear that you don’t plan to go your own way once you become the leader of a family worth more than a trillion dollars.” Dragunov’s smile was forced. “With wealth like that, you might be tempted to forget those who helped you when no one else would go near you. Remember, Abdullah, my president invested a great deal in you. He expects a handsome return.”
“And he’ll get one,” said Abdullah. “AfterI become king.”
“He’d like a gesture of goodwill in the meantime.”
“What did he have in mind?”
“An agreement to invest one hundred billion dollars from Saudi Arabia’s sovereign wealth fund in several Russian projects that are of paramount importance to the Kremlin.”
“And to you, too, I suspect.” Receiving no reply, Abdullah said, “This sounds like a shakedown to me.”
“Does it?”
Abdullah feigned deliberation. “Tell your president I’ll dispatch a delegation to Moscow next week.”
Dragunov brought his hands together in a show of unity. “Wonderful news.”
Abdullah suddenly craved alcohol. He glanced over his shoulder.Where the hell was that girl?When he turned around again, Dragunov was devouring a caviar treat. A single black egg had lodged itself like a tick on his prominent lower lip.
Abdullah averted his gaze and abruptly changed the subject. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to try to kill him?”
“Who?”
“Allon.”
The Russian dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, dislodging the speck of caviar. “The decision was made by the Kremlin and the SVR. I had nothing to do with it.”
“You should have killed Khalid and the child the way we agreed and left Allon out of it.”
“He needed to be dealt with.”
“But you didn’tdealwith him, Konstantin. Allon survived that night.”
Dragunov waved his hand dismissively. “What are you so afraid of?”
“Gabriel Allon.”
“You have nothing to fear.”
“Really?”
“We were the ones who tried to kill him, not you.”
“I doubt he’ll see the distinction.”
“You’re the crown prince of Saudi Arabia, Abdullah. Soon you’ll be the king. No one, not even Gabriel Allon, can touch you now.”
Abdullah glanced over his shoulder.Where the hell was that girl?
The SVR had trained Anna Yurasova in all manner of weaponry—firearms, knives, explosives—but never once had she rehearsed opening a bottle of Louis Roederer champagne under conditions of operational stress.
When the cork finally shot from the bottle with a loud pop, several costly ounces of frothy liquid spilled onto the counter. Ignoring the mess, Anna reached into the pocket of her maid’s apron and removed a Pasteur pipette dropper and a slender glass vial. The clear liquid inside was one of the most dangerous substances on earth. Moscow Center had assured Anna it was harmless as long as it was in its container. Once she removed the cap, however, the liquid would instantly emit an invisible fountain of lethal alpha radiation. Anna was to work quickly but with extreme care. She was not to ingest the substance, inhale its fumes, or touch it.
On the counter was a serving tray with two crystal champagne flutes. Anna’s hands trembled as she unscrewed the metal cap from the vial. With the Pasteur pipette she drew a few milliliters of the liquid and squirted it into one of the glasses. There was no scent at all. Moscow Center had promised it was tasteless as well.
