“GCHQ concur.”
“What brought him to town?”
“He had dinner last night with his beloved uncle Abdullah. He’s the current king’s younger brother.”
“Half brother,” said Gabriel. “There’s a big difference.”
“Which is why Abdullah spends most of his time here in London. In fact, we’re practically neighbors. Abdullah initially opposed Khalid’s rise, but he fell in line after Khalid threatened to bankrupt him and put him under house arrest. He’s now one of KBM’s closest advisers.” Seymour frowned. “One can only imagine the sort of things they talk about. Despite his fancy London address, Abdullah isn’t terribly fond of the West.”
“Or Israel,” added Gabriel.
“Quite. But he’s an influential figure inside the House of Saud, and Khalid needs his support.”
“Is he an MI6 asset?”
“Abdullah? Wherever would you get an idea like that?” Seymour sat down. “I’m afraid you’ve got yourself mixed up in a real game of thrones. If you had any sense, you’d walk away and let the Al Saud fight it out amongst themselves.”
“The Middle East is too dangerous a place to allow instability in Saudi Arabia.”
“We agree. Which is why we’ve been willing to overlook KBM’s obvious shortcomings, including his murder of Omar Nawwaf.”
“Why did he do it?”
“One hears rumors,” said Seymour vaguely.
“What sort of rumors?”
“That Nawwaf knew something he wasn’t supposed to.”
“Like what?”
“Why don’t you ask your friend? He’s staying at the Dorchester under an assumed name.” Seymour shook his head reproachfully. “I must say, if my child had been kidnapped, the last place I’d be is a luxury suite at the Dorchester Hotel. I’d be looking for the people who took her.”
“That’s why he came to me.” Gabriel removed a photograph from his attaché case. It showed a man sitting in a French café.
“Who is he?”
“I was hoping you might be able to tell me.” Gabriel handed Seymour the photocopy of the passport. “He’s rather good. He dropped Mikhail in about five seconds flat in Geneva last night.”
Seymour looked up. “Geneva?”
“Could he be one of yours, Graham? A former MI6 officer who’s selling his services on the open market?”
“I’ll check it out, but I doubt it. In fact, he doesn’t look British to me.” Seymour scrutinized the image. “You think he’s a professional?”
“Definitely.”
Seymour returned the photograph and the copy of the passport. “Perhaps you should show those to someone who’s familiar with the dark side of the trade.”
“Know anyone like that?”
“I might.”
“Mind if I pay him a visit?”
“Why not? He has a lot of free time on his hands at the moment.” Seymour looked around the half-furnished room. “We all do.”
23
