“It must have been quite a surprise.”
“What’s that?”
“Finding Sarah on your flight to Paris.” She glanced at the television. There were scenes of the latest eruption of violence along the border of the Gaza Strip. Israel, it seemed, was entirely to blame. “They don’t seem to know that anything unusual is going on.”
“They will soon.”
“How will it unfold?”
“The crown prince will tell his father the king that he has no choice but to abdicate. His father, who has twenty-eight other children by four different wives, will undoubtedly take issue with his son’s decision.”
“Who will succeed King Mohammed now?”
“That depends on who was behind the plot to force Khalid from power.” Gabriel checked the time. It was 9:42 in Jerusalem, 10:42 in Riyadh. “He’s cutting it rather close.”
“Maybe he’s having second thoughts.”
“Once he steps down, he loses everything. He probably won’t be able to remain in Saudi Arabia. He’ll be just another prince in exile.”
“I’d love to be a fly on the wall in the royal court right now.”
“Would you really?” Gabriel picked up his BlackBerry and dialed the Operations Desk at King Saul Boulevard. A few minutes later the BlackBerry began to emit the sound of an old man shouting in Arabic.
“What is he saying?”
“A child can be replaced, but not a king.”
It was half past eleven in Riyadh when Al Arabiya, the state-run Saudi news channel, interrupted its usual late-evening fare with an urgent announcement from the palace. The newscaster appeared stricken as he read it. His Royal Highness Prince Khalid bin Mohammed Abdulaziz Al Saud had abdicated, thus relinquishing his claim to the throne. The Allegiance Council, a body of senior princes that determines who among them will rule next, planned to convene soon to appoint a replacement. For the moment, however, Saudi Arabia’s terminally ill and mentally incompetent absolute monarch had no chosen successor.
Al Jazeera, which delivered the news to the wider world, could scarcely contain its glee. Nor could the Iranians, the Muslim Brotherhood, the Palestinians, Hezbollah, ISIS, or the widow of Omar Nawwaf. The White House instantly released a statement declaring its determination to work closely with Khalid’s successor. Downing Street murmured something similar a few minutes later, as did the Élysée Palace. The government of Israel, for its part, said nothing at all.
But why had Khalid surrendered the throne for which he had fought so ruthlessly? The media could only speculate. The Middle East experts were unanimous in the opinion that Khalid had not abdicated voluntarily. The only question was whether the pressure had been applied from within the House of Saud or without. Few reporters or commentators made any attempt to hide their joy over his fall, especially those early supporters who had cheered his rise to power. “Good riddance,” declared the important columnist from theNew York Timeswho had prematurely crowned Khalid the savior of the Arab world.
Among the many mysteries that night were Khalid’s exact whereabouts. Had anyone bothered to ask the chief of Israeli intelligence, he could have told them definitively that Khalid flew to Paris immediately after his contentious meeting with his father and, absent his usual entourage, slipped anonymously into the Hôtel de Crillon. At five the following afternoon, he received a phone call. The voice at the other end, digitized and perversely affable in tone, issued a set of instructions, then the call went dead. Frantic, Khalid rang Sarah Bancroft in New York. And Sarah, at Khalid’s request, called Gabriel at King Saul Boulevard. Needlessly, as it turned out, for he was monitoring events in the Op Center and had overheard everything. The kidnappers wanted more than Khalid’s abdication. They wanted him.
31
Tel Aviv–Paris
Actually, it wasa bit more complicated than that. What the kidnappers wanted was for Gabriel to handle the final negotiations and logistics of Princess Reema’s release. They characterized their demand not as a threat but as a humanitarian gesture, one that would guarantee the safe return of the hostage, always the most perilous element of a kidnapping. They preferred to deal with a professional, they said, rather than a desperate and sometimes volatile father. Gabriel, however, was under no illusion as to why the kidnappers wanted him at the other end of the phone. The men behind the plot, whoever they were, whatever their motive, intended to kill him at the first opportunity. And Khalid, too.
Not surprisingly, the demand did not meet with a favorable reception inside the walls of King Saul Boulevard. Uzi Navot said it was out of the question, a sentiment shared by the rest of Gabriel’s senior staff—including Yaakov Rossman, who threatened to handcuff Gabriel to his desk. Even Eli Lavon, the chief of the watchers and Gabriel’s closest friend, thought it a fool’s errand. Besides, Lavon added, now that Khalid had abdicated, he was no longer worth the effort, and certainly not worth the risk.
Gabriel did not bother to consult with the prime minister. Instead, he called his wife. The conversation was brief, two or three minutes, no more. Afterward, he and Mikhail slipped quietly out of King Saul Boulevard and headed for Ben Gurion. There were no more flights to Paris that night. It was no matter; Khalid had sent a plane for them.
It was shortly after one a.m. when they arrived at the Crillon. Christopher Keller was in the lounge bar, flirting with the pretty hostess in his Corsican-accented French.
“Have you been upstairs yet?” asked Gabriel.
“Why do you think I’m down here? He was driving me crazy.”
“How’s he holding up?”
“Sixes and sevens.”
Khalid was staying in a grand apartment on the fourth floor. It was a shock to see him perform so ordinary a task as opening a door. He closed it again quickly and engaged the locks. The coffee table in the main sitting room was littered with the tins and wrappers of complimentary snacks from his personal bar. Somewhere his phone was playing an annoying electronic melody.
“The damn thing won’t stop ringing.” He raised a hand in anger toward the enormous television. “They’re laughing at me! They’re saying I was forced to abdicate because of Omar Nawwaf.”
