The men were seated on the wooden floor, their legs tucked underneath them as they leaned against cotton cushions. A cup of chai sat between them, thick as molasses, sweet as sugar, and strong enough to give an almost instant rush of energy. The smell permeated the room, warm and syrupy, and a thin wisp of steam rose from their porcelain cups. The young princess sat silently beside her husband. She reached out her hand and he squeezed it, then let it go.
The bodyguards took up positions outside the small home and Rassa could hear their footsteps through the thin glass windows as they moved around the house and through the courtyard. Rassa realized they were keeping to the shadows, never revealing themselves as they moved from the corner of the small house to the line of trees on the north and west sides.
The prince turned toward Rassa and folded his arms. “I’m going to ask you a question,” he said.
Rassa’s back stiffened and he drew a tight breath.
“Do you understand why you are here?” Prince Saud asked in a low voice.
“Why am I here?” Rassa answered, a puzzled look on his face.
“Yes. Do you know why you’re here?”
Rassa stared at him blankly, confusion narrowing his brow. “I am here, Crown Prince Saud because . . . well because this is my home.”
The prince shook his head. “No, Rassa Ali Pahlavi, that is not what I meant. Why are you here? Why did God give you life? For what purpose were you born?”
“The purpose of life is to surrender my will to Allah,” Rassa answered automatically, repeating the words he had learned and repeated every day since he was no more than two.
The prince nodded impatiently. “Yes, Rassa, of course. But think beyond the Qur’an. I want you to tell me more.”
Rassa thought in bewildered silence. “Your Majesty,” he whispered, his voice trailing off. He looked at his chai, keeping his eyes on the floor. He finally shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know what to say.”
The prince leaned toward him. “I have spent most of my life studying the holy teachings of the Qur’an,” he said. “I am both by nature and training a deeply religious man. I have responsibilities to the kingdom, but more, I have responsibilities to Allah. Because of this, I have spent my life studying with the masters; the best educated Muslim philosophers anywhere in the world. And this is what I have come to believe. The Qur’an teaches that each man has a reason for living. Allah fates certain things, and he has brought me here, Rassa, to speak with you tonight. He has a purpose for you, Rassa and I know his will.”
“Whatever you ask, I will do it,” Rassa trembled in reply before he quickly added Insha’allal. If it is God’s will.
Saud lowered his voice. “My kingdom stands on the edge of a precipice,” he whispered. “We look over a terrible and deadly abyss. There are those within my country, even those within my own family, who want us to fail. There are those in my councils who crave a final battle with the West. There are those who believe we have a sacred obligation to join the jihad and are willing to do whatever it takes to make their dreams come true.
“They are dangerous. Extremely dangerous. They are a secret band of brothers, bound by blood oaths and lies. And they are not driven by a dedication to Allah! They are not driven by religion or a vision of a greater Islam!! They are driven by power! They are driven by hate! They are evil and deadly men who want to conquer our world.
“And like the shadows that spread when the sun sets, they grow even darker as the evening comes on. Yet no one notes their growing power, for the darkness settles so slowly it is nearly imperceptible. But their influence is spreading. I’m the only thing that stands in their way. And I am afraid.”
Rassa stared openmouthed. It seemed impossible! The most powerful man in Saudi Arabia! One of the most powerful men in the world! He could not understand it! But as he gazed at the prince, Rassa saw a cold look of fear.
Prince Saud dropped his eyes and a shadow crossed his face. “Early this evening I buried my family,” he explained. “My first wife and our children. A daughter. Two sons. Another son who was not even born yet also died in his mother’s womb.” He shot another pained look at his second wife, then slowly went on. “The only son I have left is outside in the car. I have brought him to you, Rassa, because you are my kin. I have brought my wife and child to you because I need you to keep them safe. There is nowhere in the kingdom that they could not be found. But here,” he gestured, “in these mountains, in this tiny village in Iran, they will be safe for a few days. And that’s all I need; a few days to destroy my enemies, that’s all I’m asking for right now.”
Rassa bowed in submission then gestured to his simple house. “But Sayid,” he questioned, “look at my home. It is unworthy of the princess. It is unworthy of your son.”
“My poverty is my pride,” the prince quoted the Qur’an in reply.
“But I am a simple man, Your Highness. A simple man who is trying to survive on my own.”
“Which is why this will work. They will never suspect! And Rassa, this isn’t a decision I came to rashly. I have thought this through. And I know in my heart this is the right thing to do.”
“But Sayid,” Rassa argued, “a young prince! In my home!”
“Listen to me!” Saud answered quickly, his voice growing strained. “You are Rassa Ali Pahlavi! The royal blood runs through your veins as it has run through your fathers for almost two thousand years! You cannot dismiss that! And they can’t take it from you! We share royal blood, Rassa! That is why I came to you!”
Rassa was silent and the prince pointed a finger. “They will be looking for him,” he prodded, his voice stained from fatigue and fear. “They will search through my kingdom, they will turn every rock, every reed, every reel. They will follow my movements, always searching for clues. But they will never suspect that I would dare take him out of the kingdom. And to Persia no less! They would not dream I would do this. And that is why this will work.”
Rassa didn’t respond. He did not know what to say.
Prince Saud watched him then stood quickly. He was finished explaining. It was time that he go. He nodded to the princess and she moved to his side. Turning to Rassa, Prince Saud made his final point. “The time is soon coming when Islam will rise from the ashes of the Ottoman Empire,” he said. “It will rise and reclaim its rightful position of leadership in this world. For more than one thousand years, while the West rutted through the dark ages and wallowed in decay, the people of Islam stood as the military, economic and spiritual leaders of the world. And yet from the day Napoleon marched into Egypt, we have reacted like a stunned bull. One shot and we fell in a quivering heap to our knees. But the time is soon coming when we will rise again. There will be a Pan Arabia! But it will take a new way of thinking. It will take a new world. A new kind of leader to lead us there! A new king is required, someone who can purge Islam of the poison and lift it again as a symbol of wealth and peace to the world!
“I am that man, Rassa. I am going to change the world. And my son will follow in my footsteps. So we must keep him safe. Now do you understand?”
Rassa nodded gravely then pushed himself to his knees. “I will do as you command,” he whispered as he bowed at the prince’s feet.
The prince put his hands on his shoulders and lifted him up. “You must speak of this to no one!” he demanded. “Do you understand how important that is? You will call the princess a cousin who is visiting from Riyadh. Tell no one I have been here or we are both dead.”
Rassa kept his eyes low as he nodded his head.
“Do you understand that, Rassa? Do you see how important our secrecy is?”
“I understand, Sayid.”
The crown prince gripped his shoulder, then looked at his wife. He nodded to the princess. “Go and get him,” he said.
The princess left the house and returned with her son. The small boy stood shyly, holding tightly to his mother’s hand. He had round eyes and dark hair and he looked around wearily. His father knelt before him and pulled him to his chest. Looking up, he nodded sternly to Rassa, looking him straight in the eyes. “Keep him safe,” he demanded as he let his son go. “It will only be a few days, a week at the most before I come back for him. Keep them safe and I’ll reward you beyond your wildest dreams. But if any danger befalls them, then I will hold you responsible. This is your charge, your great purpose and you simply can’t fail.”
Rassa bowed. “Sayid,” he replied.
“It could be dangerous for you, Rassa.”
“Sayid, I will serve.”
Prince Saud pressed Rassa’s shoulder, turned sadly to the princess and reached for her hand. “I will come back for you, Ash Salman,” he whispered, leaning his mouth to her ear. “I will not leave you, not a day, not an hour, more than I have to. But for now we must do this. We must do this for our son.
“Now stay here. Be strong! Take care of my child and I will call for you soon.”
The princess nodded, her face firm and proud. Saud leaned over and kissed her cheek softly then turned and walked out the door, leaving the young mother standing with the child prince in her hands.
* * *
Rassa stared at her blankly, a dumbfounded look on his face. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. He opened his mouth, then shut it. Better to not sound like a fool. The young princess let her eyes drift to the floor. Her young son looked sleepily around the bare room. “Mother, why are we here?” he wondered. “Why did father go?”
The princess knelt. “Abd Illah, your father has gone for something very important. We are going to stay here for a few days.”
The prince reached up for his mother, pulling into her arms. “I want to go with father. Why did he leave us?” The young boy started crying. The princess was not far from tears herself.
Then the bedroom door opened and Azadeh walked into the room. She shot a knowing look to her father and he realized she had been listening. “Azadeh,” he asked her, “how long have you been awake?”
She ignored the question as she walked to the princess and her son. “Princess Ash Salman,” she said as she bowed deeply with a graceful sweep of her arms. “My name is Azadeh Ishebel Pahlavi. I am Rassa’s daughter. Welcome to our home.”
The princess stared at her hopefully. Azadeh took the young prince’s other hand and said, “We don’t have a lot to offer, but anything we have is yours. It is an honor to have you with us, and we will do all we can to make your stay comfortable.”
Rassa took a step toward Azadeh. “How much did you hear?” he whispered quickly.
“Everything,” Azadeh answered. “I woke up when they knocked at our door.”
“Then you understand?”
“I understand the princess has had a very long day. I understand the crown prince is in danger, and so is this child. Now we will make them safe and comfortable. We will treat them as our own.”
Azadeh turned to the princess. She looked so young and vulnerable. An instant bond formed between them and the princess smiled wearily. Azadeh took the young prince and moved toward her bedroom door. “You are tired,” she said. “Come. You two have my bed. I will sleep here by the fire. Come. You are tired. We will talk in the morning. It will seem brighter then.”
Rassa watched in grateful amazement as Azadeh took care of their guests. She got clean sheets and clean towels and placed a bowl of warm water by their bed. She offered them tea and a biscuit, which both of them declined, then shut the door behind her, leaving them alone in her room.
Rassa smiled at Azadeh in gratitude. “Thank you,” he said.
* * *
Rassa waited until the others were asleep and the house had grown quiet, then slipped out the back door and through the yard, heading toward the center of town.
He found his friend Omar in the backroom of one of the dark warehouses he owned along the old docks on the river. Although it was after three in the morning, he knew Omar would be about his business. His friend often worked at night—some things were best done in the dark, and why should he sleep when there was cash to be made?
Walking through a side entrance of the old warehouse, Rassa paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the light and listened to Omar berate one of his lieutenants in the next room. Above him, in a hidden attic, Rassa knew he would likely find a cache of hand-woven Persian carpets on their way to illegal transport to Europe and the United States. He also knew Omar made more money on one pirated shipment of rugs than he made farming in a year. But he didn’t envy Omar’s money. He would have died from the stress.
Rassa knocked on the door before stepping into the room. Omar stood up to face him, his huge frame filling the semidarkness. “Rassa!” he demanded, “what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk with you,” Rassa answered.
Omar glanced over his shoulder. “Could it wait?” he said.
“No, Omar, please.”
Omar considered his friend then shot another look toward the back of the room. “All right,” he said. “Let’s go for a walk.”
* * *
The moon was just dropping behind the plains to the west and the lamps along the docks cast a dull, yellow glow. “What do I do?” Rassa questioned after he had explained everything.
Omar gazed at Rassa, then shook his head in disbelief. His young friend was in deep water, in way over his head. The question now was, did he know how to swim?
Omar shook his head intently. “You’ve got a problem,” he said. “And the truth is, good friend, you are too naïve to realize how big it really is.”
Rassa looked at him, his eyes wide. “Just tell me what to do!” he pleaded.
“You have no choice,” Omar answered without giving it any further thought. “The crown prince will not be trifled with. You must do as he asked. He is so desperate, he has played his last option, and that option, unbelievably, has led him to you. But you are also in danger. Are you wise enough to see that? The prince has powerful enemies, Rassa, he lives in an unforgiving and cruel world. It is harsh. It is mean. It is dog-eat-dog, or brother-kill-brother, then throw away the bones. It’s a world that is difficult for you to understand. There is no good and no bad, only the weak and the strong. It is survival of the fittest and not a thing else.
“Now, is Prince Saud the strongest? We don’t know yet. But those men who seek to destroy him will seek to destroy you as well. So if I have any advice for you, friend, it would be to stay out of sight. Keep your eyes open. The question is, did they follow the prince? One wouldn’t think he would be so careless, or unlucky, but we really don’t know. He was desperate, and his enemies are fearless and very powerful. So don’t sleep too soundly, Rassa, not for a few days. The first forty-eight hours will be critical. If they are coming for you, I think they will be here by then.”
Rassa looked confused. “But you don’t think they would hurt . . . .”
“Absolutely they would. They are after the young prince, and you stand in their way. That makes you their enemy. The main question—really the only question—you need to consider is whether they will find him. How determined are they? How far will they go? Can Prince Saud protect his family? Did they follow Prince Saud? Do they have spies around?”
Rassa stopped and looked out on the river and slowly shook his head. “I would never do anything that would endanger Azadeh,” he said.
“You are past that, Rassa. Everyone is in danger. You must accept that now.”
Rassa didn’t answer, but started walking again.
Omar watched him a moment, noting the slump of his shoulders and the drag of his feet. His friend was in trouble. So Omar committed to help. He would keep his eyes out, keep his own men in the square. He would watch the roads and highways and see what popped up. And he would warn Rassa if the wrong men showed up.