Chapter 6
Sitting at the table of the conference room, Fred Gibson and Namlah Badawee, his legal advisor in international law, were waiting for Khalid’s arrival. Fred was a down-to-earth man. Of Afro-American descent, the pleated lines of his face, large, black eyes and burly stature would remind anyone looking at him of Louis Armstrong. He was not the most astute or clever of men, but he surrounded himself with the best agents in the land. His strength of character and inner wilfulness had seen him climb the rungs of the intelligence agency’s ladder at a steady and unrelenting pace. Through his fatherly, yet firm attitude, he had gained the respect of his peers both in Canada and abroad. Although no longer a young man, he could run the best off the race.
As for Namlah Badawee, a name meaning ‘nomad ant’ in Arabic, he was an unassuming fellow. His value to the agency resided in his knowledge of international law, not to say ‘intrigue’. With an upper lip endowed of a generous, black moustache, this amusing-looking man was a master at unravelling intricate entanglements. He was the one who put Fred on the scent of Ben Slimane’s treason while the latter was working for the CIA.
Escorted by Jimmy, Fred’s aide, Khalid strode into the conference room, and faced the two men who stood up as he entered.
“Welcome to Canada once again, Your Highness,” Fred said, extending a hand for Khalid to shake. “I would have hoped this meeting to be held under better circumstances; nevertheless, it is still a pleasure to seeing you again.”
Shaking Fred’s hand, Khalid replied, “Thank you, sir,” looking at each man in turn.
Namlah had not pronounced a word yet. “Sabahol-khayer, (good morning) Mr. Badawee,” Khalid added in Arabic, thus indicating to his interlocutor he recognized his Islamic antecedents.
“Ahlan wa sahlan (welcome), Prince Khalid,” Namlah uttered visibly preoccupied, which attitude puzzled the prince.
They sat down. Khalid reclined in the chair and crossed his legs. “As I said on the phone, Mr. Gibson, the reason for my visit is simple; I would like to know if there has been any recent development in Mossad’s activities of which you would be aware, of course.”
Fred stretched his forearms over the table and continued fiddling with his pen. “We have closed the file on this affair, as you know, Your Highness. Officially, Ms Kartz’s shooting tied our hands and the government didn’t see the need to take the case further, since it could have led to an international incident, not only with our neighbour but with Israel, which no one wanted.”
“Yes, I expected such an answer, Mr. Gibson. Yet, I am sure that unofficially you have kept an eye on their movements, am I right?”
Looking slightly uncomfortable, Namlah nodded to Fred before he said, “You are quite right, sir. We have been aware of certain parties resuming their activities in the CIA. Our sources have informed us that the exchange of drugs for armaments in South America, in particular…”
They are skirting the issue, Khalid thought.
“What about Mossad?” Khalid cut in. “Do you know of anyone picking up where Slimane left off?”
Again, the chief and his lawyer exchanged conspiratorial glances. “No, not exactly,” Fred said. Khalid was getting impatient. He unfolded his legs, slid the chair closer to the table and put his elbows and forearms on it. “We have not been able to trace anyone infiltrating the CIA since last fall, but we have received reports from Australia, that a man corresponding to Isaac Whittlestein’s description is now living in a suburb of Sydney under another name. As you know he’s the only link we could establish between Ben Slimane and Mossad.”
“I am glad to hear that you have followed my suggestion to trace the man Downunder.” Khalid smiled with satisfaction. “And what is the man doing now? If you know...”
“Nothing, Your Highness,” Namlah replied.
“I see. He’s dormant then? But I should think this hibernation will only last for a while longer.”
Fred nodded. “My thoughts exactly, Your Highness.”
Embarrassed, Namlah lowered his head. He raised it to say, “You see, sir, it is my contention that Mossad is waiting for you to make a move.”
That statement took Khalid by surprise. “Me? Could you explain how you came to that conclusion, Mr. Badawee?”
“By all means. Mossad, as we know, is Israel’s eyes and ears. They are looking for an excuse to spark an incident that would re-ignite ill feelings between Saudi Arabia and its allies. The Middle East has an infected wound at Gaza. Since Hamas took control of the strip, the area is a disaster waiting to happen. In my opinion, should the conflict worsen, Geneva would need to take a firm stand and enforced a cease-fire between Palestinians and Israeli forces.”
“I understand…, but how do I fit into this?”
“Mossad would love nothing more than for you to rekindle your relationship with Ms Kartz, thereby demonstrating your affinity or your ties with Israel. This, in turn, would show that Saudi Arabia is befriending an enemy of Islam and would engender an array of questions on the part of its neighbours.”
Khalid had listened to these warning words with sadness in his heart. The only thing he wanted to do at present was to help the woman he loved. His birthright or his faith, or even the political backdrop that had been part of his existence to date, were only asides, hurdles in his pursuit of happiness. Mossad had indeed an ace up their sleeve. They had been playing with Talya’s life, hoping he, Khalid Saif Al-Fadir, would join her once again. They wanted to use them for political reasons, reasons that could result in international tension, not to say war in the Middle East.
Khalid knew that his staying away from Vancouver had been the right decision initially. However now, Talya needed him. She had not called for him to help her, yet he knew he could get her on her feet, so to speak, and get her back to working and enjoying life again.
Khalid said, “I appreciate your frankness, gentlemen. My family owes you a great deal for your foresight, Mr. Badawee. Nevertheless, I feel an obligation toward the woman whose deliberate pursuit for justice has resulted in her being chased like an animal and ultimately being shot. At this point, I don’t know what my decision will be. According to your conclusions, if I were to show myself on Ms Kartz’s doorsteps, it would demonstrate to the Middle East Community that my family is entertaining some sort of relations with Israel, thereby re-igniting resentments on the part of my country’s allies.”
“Yes, that sums it up pretty well,” Fred agreed with emphasis. “But this is only a conclusion that we have drawn from keeping an eye on the situation in and around Gaza. Your family has not taken a stand in this conflict. It has stayed impartial and unwilling to take sides, which is totally in character, actually. Yet, we would be remiss in our relations with you and the Saudi royal family if we did not advise you of the possible consequences a visit with Ms Kartz would have, should you choose to go to Vancouver.”
A short time later, the official car took Khalid to his hotel where he had reserved rooms for himself, Pierre and John. They had arranged to meet for dinner at the restaurant, but as Khalid closed the door of his suite, he didn’t feel like dinner or keeping company to his pilot and navigator. They were friends, of course, but Khalid had too much on his mind to be anywhere near civil that evening. He felt oppressed and despondent. In the past, his movements or decisions bore no consequence for anyone other than himself, but this time, the wrong decision, in the eyes of his family, would have an inevitable impact on Saudi Arabia’s political status in the Middle East. Short of disowning him or endangering the life of his daughter, while perhaps using her as a bargaining chip, his distant uncles would see to Khalid abiding the rules imposed on him long ago, whether he remained in exile or not. He would have to steer clear of Talya and have no contact with her in future. On the one hand, Khalid knew only too well how many lives could be lost if there was yet another hint of disagreement in the Middle East. On the other, he wanted to save the one person that had meant so much to him.
If he didn’t
go to her, he would not be able to abide idle her downward spiral to self-destruction, because it was exactly what she was doing. She saw no reason to live. There were no goals to attain, no project to complete, no family to mind, no children to raise. Talya had lost everything once, and now she was losing her very soul.
Rather than unpacking his bags, Khalid carried them out of the suite, went down the elevators, walked through the lobby and came to stand in front of the clerk at the registration desk.
“I’ll be checking out now. Would you prepare my bill and have a taxi wait for me out front?”
“Certainly, sir. Any problems with the service?” the young lady asked. She was surprised. It was unusual for a guest to check out before he even used the room.
“Nothing. My schedule has changed, nothing more.”
While the clerk prepared his bill, Khalid walked to a corner of the foyer, took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled the hotel number. The operator put him through Pierre’s room immediately.
“Pierre?”
“Oh, Khalid? Are you downstairs already…?”
“No. Just listen. I want you and John to take the Lear back to Paris in the morning.”
“What happened? Are you alright?” Pierre sounded worried and somewhat curious.
“No. Just do as I asked. I’ll contact you tomorrow or when I want you to know where I am.”
“Okay, Khalid, but why?”
“No time for explanation, Pierre. Have a good flight.”
With these words, Khalid hung up, went back to the desk, paid his bill and made his way out of the hotel and into the waiting cab.