ONE WEEK LATER
CAFALA BAHR, MIRABELLO BAY, SEA OF CRETE, GREECE—OCTOBER 5, 2020—20:15 / 8:15 P.M. EET
Saad swirled the Hibiki 21 Years Old whisky, then brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. With his financial reserves, the price of the expensive liquid wasn’t even a minor rounding error. But he was a man who appreciated fine things, and he wanted to savor this moment. He sipped and let the whisky’s flavor of sandalwood, dried fruits, nuts, and smoke cover his tongue and palate. This was the final bottle from the case hand delivered to him by the chief distiller of the House of Suntory when he was off the coast of Osaka last year, and he wanted to make it last.
Unfortunately, it was difficult to be in the moment with loud music and tittering laughter. Two men—his invited guests—were moving their bodies in various ungainly gyrations 20 meters away on the helipad, which doubled as a dance floor. The six women giggling and swaying with much more skill were all being paid for their attendance.
One of the ladies, a tall blond wearing a short and sparkly two-piece halter dress, slapped the bare chest of IRGC general Arash Mousavi. Pulling her close, he whispered something in her ear. She feigned shock, which she then transformed into a well-practiced look of anticipation.
Saad shook his head as he sipped at his drink. It was just beginning to cool off after an unseasonably hot day, and he enjoyed the chilly burn of the liquid. Mousavi was still a fool when it came to women, but he was Saad’s in-road to the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. The general was high in the Quds Force of the IRGC, and he’d moved even closer to the top with the assassination of Qasem Soleimani at the beginning of the year.
A great tactician, he was ruthless when it came to his leadership of Iran’s proxy militias in Iraq and Syria. When Saad put his money in the hands of Mousavi, he knew it would be funneled into the right places—all except for the portion the general skimmed off the top.
Of course, his friend didn’t know Saad was aware of his graft. It was a little bit of information he kept stored away for when it might be needed.
Reaching into a bowl of mixed nuts, Saad took a handful and popped a couple into his mouth. Off in the distance he saw towering lights moving across the water. That would be one of the cruise ships that plagued these waters. It was difficult to find a more beautiful and cultured collection of islands than those that stretched north of him in the Aegean Sea. But often, sailing these waters felt like driving a car down a freeway filled with tractor trailers. Everywhere you looked, 18-deck monstrosities churned up wakes as they passed.
The music changed to some horrid British-sounding pop song, and his other guest began using his champagne flute as a microphone. The expensive contents sloshed and spilled as he sang. Although Saad despised the man, he had to admit he had a good voice. It wasn’t just high-level karaoke quality; he had some talent. The paid audience, however, reacted as if he were the second coming of Justin Bieber or Shawn Mendes or whoever was popular these days. Saad’s kids could have told him, but he couldn’t remember exactly how many years it had been since any of his three daughters were of the age to still live at home. He did know it had been more than two years since any of them had bothered to contact him.
They resent you for being gone while you make the money. Then once you give them the money, they are the ones who disappear.
Noticing that no one had cleaned up the spilled liquid, he snapped his fingers. The bartender who’d been standing nearby hurried to him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Go tell one of those new Filipinos to clean up that mess on the dance floor before someone slips and breaks a bone. Let the fools know they have one job to do, and right now they aren’t doing it.”
“Yes, sir.” The man ran off.
Thinking back to his children, Saad realized he couldn’t completely blame them for abandoning him. He had no doubt that his ex-wife had plenty to do with their view of him. She’d been a good woman, just naïve. She didn’t understand that men who live in his kind of world play with a different set of rules when it comes to family, time, and monogamy. Admittedly, he had not been the best of husbands, but at least he hadn’t insisted on having other wives—unlike the buffoon singing on the dance floor. His four submissive wives had born him a total of eight children, although five were girls and two of the three boys appeared to be complete dunces.
Saad had his corporate intelligence team do a full background on Ali Kamal before he allowed him on the boat. He was a prince in the royal family, which was not unusual. The House of Saud bred like rabbits, and each spawn was considered royalty and given an outrageous amount of money.
Saad’s father had experienced quite a few run-ins with the “royals” during his years in Saudi Arabia. In fact, one of those royals, the current King Salman, had run to then-King Fahd to report some offense supposedly committed by Saad’s father. That was what led to his family’s flight to Qatar.
Kamal was an idiot, but he was, as Vladimir Lenin talked about, a useful idiot. This was because he hated the Saudi royal family with a passion that may have even exceeded Saad’s own. Although a royal himself, Kamal, too, had experienced a falling out. In November 2017, Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman ordered the arrest of four hundred of the nation’s elite, among them Prince Ali. Along with the others, he was detained in the opulent Ritz Carlton in Riyadh. But it was no vacation.
The first night they were all blindfolded, and most were beaten. Kamal was left hanging by his arms in his room. His wrists had been tied together with the rope passed over the bathroom door and secured. The next day the interrogations began, and the questions and violence lasted for weeks before he was finally released.
Many of the business leaders lost their fortunes with more than $100 billion collected from them by the government. Because of his bloodline, Kamal was able to keep his wealth but not his status. Banned from the royal palace, many considered him a social pariah.
By all rights, Saad thought he should feel bad for the man. But he was such a loathsome creature that it was difficult to hope for anything but the worst for him.
Again, though he is an idiot, he truly is a useful one. How else can I learn about what is happening in the Saudi royal family? And there is most certainly truth in the old adage that an enemy of my enemy is my friend.
Avoiding the spill still on the ground, Kamal rounded up four of the women, and the five of them danced their way off the helipad and toward the elevator.
He takes four and leaves two. How very Saudi of him, Saad thought, glaring at the man.
General Mousavi waved to a steward, who turned down the music. Then sauntering toward Saad with a woman under each arm, he said, “It seems that our friend is a bit of a glutton when it comes to women.”
“He is who we know him to be.”
“Since your money is paying for all this, I feel that I should give you your pick,” said the Persian. Looking from one side to the other, he added, “Do you prefer blond or brunette?”
“They are both yours tonight, my friend. I had an early morning, and I think I can use some rest.”
“Well, if you insist,” the general said with a laugh. “Good night, Saad. Sleep well.”
“Fe sahetek.” Saad saluted him with his glass, then drained the rest of the contents and, in the bartender’s absence, poured himself another. The steward was quick to shut down all the upper deck lights at his boss’s request, and then Saad tilted his head back and looked up at the stars.