FOUR DAYS LATER
CAFALA BAHR, INDIAN OCEAN, OFF MAHÉ ISLAND, SEYCHELLES—JUNE 28, 2021—14:15 / 2:15 P.M. SCT
The pain radiating from Saad’s right shoulder blade down his arm was exquisite. Then, as the fists slid across his scapula, he felt the sensation all the way down to his toes. The hands lifted, then began their journey down his shoulder one more time. He wondered if his guest was enjoying this as much as he was.
A low groan came from the next table. Apparently, the answer to that question was yes.
At times, he felt that keeping two highly qualified masseuses on the boat was excessive. But he consoled himself with the truth that being a billionaire meant indulging in extravagant luxuries. It’s not like it made any difference at all to his fiscal bottom line. And moments like this made it worth every riyal he spent.
“It’s good?” he asked. His diction was a little distorted from his face being lodged into the massage table’s cradle.
“It is heaven, habibi,” answered Ali Kamal. “I may have to buy one of these for myself.”
“The massage table?”
“The masseuse.”
Saad laughed. He disliked so much about this man, but at times he was almost tolerable. This morning had actually been quite enjoyable as they rode WaveRunners around Saint Anne Marine National Park. While personal watercraft were forbidden in the wildlife preserve, money has its privileges. Whenever they would pause and drift, the crystal clear water gave them perfect views of coral reefs, tropical fish, and the occasional reef shark.
By the time they returned to the yacht, they were exhausted. After a light lunch of fruit and fresh-caught fish, the two had showered, then met at the spa. The helicopter was already on the upper deck waiting to take Kamal to the airport in Victoria later this afternoon. From there, his private jet would take him away to places Saad was neither aware of nor cared about.
Once the massages were complete, the two men wrapped their towels around their waists and moved to the steam room. Opening the door, Saad was met with a hot wet blast that smelled of cedar and eucalyptus. After walking in, he ladled some water onto a pile of hot rocks. The heat and humidity in the state-of-the-art room was fully regulated by a thermostat, but he still liked the feel of making his own sizzle and steam.
They each took a seat in the back corners.
“Tell me, Ali, how your plans are progressing,” Saad said. All the necessary preliminaries were over, and he could now finally address the reason he’d invited Kamal to his boat.
“The numbers are growing. I have five other members of the royal family, and seventeen key business leaders. Most important of all, I have three generals who, although they have not committed, are at least listening.”
“That seems like a lot of people in the know for a cabal. Aren’t you risking someone turning on you?”
“Habibi, you don’t know the depth of the hatred that exists in Saudi Arabia for the royal family—and particularly for the crown prince.”
Saad shook his head as he leaned back to let the heat envelope his whole body. “I know that hatred. You forget my family history.”
“I am aware of your history, and that is why I say you cannot fully understand. You are one generation removed from the fear and humiliation that can be wrought by the kings and their sons. Your father may know the hatred. You cannot.”
As much as Saad resented the man’s statement, it was true. His pain was of someone who had watched a loved one beaten down by the regime. He was, as Kamal had said, one level removed.
Kamal broke the silence. “The crown prince holding his own family members prisoner in that hotel was beyond the pale for any twenty-first-century ruler. It’s like he thinks he’s some modern-day Saladin. All-powerful, with complete autonomy to do whatever pleases him.”
Saad looked at the other man, who was leaning back with the fingers of his hands interlaced behind his head. “Was it as bad as everyone says at the Ritz Carlton?”
Kamal turned to him. “It was worse than you could imagine. There was no warning. I was invited to a gathering, then suddenly I was hanging by my hands and being used as a punching bag. Tortures of all sorts were employed. I was pepper sprayed several times and beaten often. But I know it was much worse for those who do not have royal blood.”
“That sounds plenty bad to me.”
Kamal stood and stepped down to the rocks. “The thing is, the physical abuse wasn’t the worst part. It was the humiliation. The disrespect.” He ladled water and inhaled deeply of the steam. “Being treated as less than human, as if your life mattered not at all.”
Much like the way you treat my staff and those women I bring on board—and most likely your wives as well, Saad thought but didn’t say.
“Enough of that.” Kamal waved the subject away with his hand. “Yesterday I was thinking this whole coup would be so much easier if I could get the West on my side. But they have a strange love/hate fascination with this man. Think of when he had Jamal Khashoggi killed. Some condemned what he did to the journalist, but so what? Those are just words.”
“Oil speaks louder than murder.”
“Exactly.” Kamal stepped back up the cedar benches to his former perch. “Soon, both the American and British press forgot all about him, and once again they’re posting glamor shots of Mohammed bin Salman on their front pages. It’s like he has them bewitched. Which is why he will never be held responsible by anyone on the outside. Retribution can only come from inside Saudi Arabia.”
“Do you have any idea when you will be ready to exact this retribution?”
“I don’t know,” he said, sitting. “Soon. I need the generals to commit first.”
“Is there anything I may do to help?”
“Honestly, it is not from you I need help. I had hoped General Mousavi would be here. I need the Houthis.”
Saad shook his head and chuckled. “The Houthis unfortunately seem otherwise preoccupied these days. They have their drones from the IRGC, and they are making full use of them on your country’s refineries.”
“That is why the general must connect me with them. All that effort and firepower could be used so much more strategically. Why swat at flies when you can remove the whole pile of manure?”
“I will pass the message along. But do let me know if I may help you in any way. It is true that I am a generation removed, but I assure you that the rivers of my hatred run very deep.” He stood. “Now come. Let’s get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you in the salon. I want to show you two amazing paintings by a modern-day master—originals. They are worth ten million dollars, and I have them right here on my boat.”