Forever Betrayed: Forever Bluegrass #3 (10 page)

BOOK: Forever Betrayed: Forever Bluegrass #3
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Zain and Ahmed took the stairs down and went out the side door. An SUV with bulletproof glass was waiting for them. Ahmed opened the door and ushered Zain inside.

“Have you found anything?” Zain asked as he buckled in.

Ahmed gave a tight nod of his head. “There was an explosion this morning in Rahmi at the shipyard. One of the main docks used for bringing in supplies was blown up.”

Zain’s jaw tightened as he processed the information. “Interesting that happened the same day there’s an attempt made on my life. Though, if it were a true attempt, why didn’t someone put a bullet in my head while I was still unconscious in the car?”

“We don’t know. The king has called the explosion in the shipyard an unfortunate accident. He paid an employee to come forward and say he was tired from working all night and took a smoke break too close to some oil barrels. So far it’s working. It’s only running on the news in Rahmi, Surman, and Tahjad.”

“What about my meetings with Surman and Tahjad?” Zain asked as thoughts sped through his head.

“Kareem sent me his report. Surman is insulted and doesn’t want to meet anymore. Tahjad said they’d give you one more chance, but it would be on their time. It seems they like the idea of making you wait on them. Kareem told them all you fell from a horse on your morning ride and just needed to be checked out,” Ahmed explained as the city of Lexington turned into the fields of Keeneston.

“Fine. I’ll swallow some pride if it means I get my nanotechnology lab with Tahjad’s support and a signed peace treaty,” Zain said unhappily. He looked at the clock in the SUV. He had barely enough time to change before giving his welcome speech. No time to talk to Mila, and that hurt almost as much as his injuries.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Mila shook Chancellor Hartmann’s hand and spoke in her rehearsed professional voice. She and the chancellor had five minutes before they were escorted into the main meeting room. Mila had explained some of the customs, where everything was located, and who the major players were. She slipped in that she’d met Prince Zain and that he seemed reasonable to deal with.

“I heard he fell from
sein pferd
this morning,” the chancellor, a short stout man with half a head of hair said with an amused smirk.

Mila blinked. So that was the story they were going with. “Yes, he fell from a untrained horse I believe.” She’d try to save Zain some face since it was obvious they didn’t want anyone to know about someone trying to kill him. “Now, I believe the major points Prince Zain wants to cover are these,” Mila handed a summary sheet to the chancellor who read them over.

“Interesting,” he murmured as he read.

“Sir, it’s time for the general meeting,” the chancellor’s assistant whispered. His job was to be invisible, too.

They left the sitting room that had been assigned to the German delegation and headed to the main conference room Zain had showed her just the other day. A Rahmi guard and an FBI agent she recognized as Jackson Davies opened the doors for their party. Mila caught Jackson’s eye and he winked.

The assistant showed the chancellor to his seat and Mila headed to her setup in the back of the room. She watched as Hartmann talked with the other dignitaries he knew and then took a seat. His assistant sat in the chair behind him along with all the other assistants who lined the walls. With importance and pageantry befitting a prince, the guards opened both doors at the same moment that Zain and Jamal Ali Rahman entered with Dylan and a very scary Rahmi guard trailing behind them.

Mila sucked in a breath as she saw the bruise that had formed over Zain’s eye. His navy-blue fitted suit with a crisp white shirt and a blood-red tie covered the rest of his body. A gold brooch caught the light as he walked around the table, shaking hands. As if she willed it, he looked up and their eyes connected. She gave a soft smile to let him know she was relieved to see him, but Zain was already looking away. He seemed so different. So proper. So cold. So royal.

Unease filled her as she wondered at the real Zain. No, she knew the real Zain. This was the show he put on for other diplomats. She had talked to his friends. She had seen him around the town and felt his lips on hers. He was definitely not cold. Mila pulled on her headphones and got ready to interpret. She just hoped she could find some time to talk to him alone.

 

Zain spoke passionately about Rahmi and the nanotechnology lab he wanted to start. This was the first the delegation would have heard of it, and as they leaned forward in their seats he could tell they were interested. He talked about diseases ravishing populations around the globe, and how nanotechnology could open up countless possibilities for curing potential epidemics before they began. He also caught their attention by mentioning nanotechnology's potential in treating those affected by biological warfare, a growing concern for many of the leaders in attendance.

“The Zika virus could be eliminated. Ebola, yellow fever, SARS . . . all of it could be prevented from spreading. Nanotechnology has the ability to mimic vaccines to specifically target those strands of viruses. Nanoparticles can attack these viruses and stop them from spreading or mutating. Can you imagine the lives that could be saved? And let’s be honest, it’s not just lives. It’s economies. If a country has a pandemic, tourism drops off, your workforce is cut, and children are orphaned. We could stop all of that. Together.” Zain placed extra emphasis on that last word as he took his time to look at every person sitting in front of him. “On Wednesday, we will have Dr. Piper Davies here to answer any questions you may have. She will be instrumental in helping our countries establish this state-of-the-art international lab in Rahmi. In the meantime, I have provided a packet of information for your review. I look forward to speaking to each of you about it one-on-one as well. Thank you.”

Zain stepped back and Veronica stepped forward to begin explaining how the rest of the conference was going to be handled. Zain let his eyes scan the crowd to gauge their reaction. However, he had a hard time keeping his eyes from lingering on Mila. Her hair was pulled up with the most seductive wisps of hair caressing her neck. Sydney’s skirt suit design showed off Mila’s curves, and he noticed some of the assistants checking her out. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

Veronica finished her speech and ushered Zain from the room with Ahmed and Dylan trailing after him. She spoke rapid-fire as she laid out his plans for the rest of the day. Ahmed and Dylan kept an eye on the surroundings as they made it to his office. It was both strange and comforting to have his friends here. Zain didn’t like the idea of having his friends in the line of fire, but he did trust them with his life. He just didn’t know how he could repay them for this.

Zain walked into the office, and Veronica stopped talking when she saw Mo sitting in front of the desk.

“Hey, Dad. Has there been an update on Rahmi?”

“Everyone out,” he said quietly.

Dylan looked to Zain for confirmation, and when Zain gave a barely perceived nod, Dylan followed Ahmed out and closed the door. He knew they would be standing no more than a foot from each side of the door.

“What is it?” Zain asked as he came to a stop in front of his father.

“They captured a man trying to flee Rahmi. He had no identification on him, but his face was run through the country’s files. Just like the participants in the riot the guards brought in for questioning, he did not match any of our citizens,” Mo said evenly.

“They’re not from Rahmi?”

“No. We found the man on a customs video coming into Rahmi by boat from Surman. We’re running down the papers to find a name, but they’re probably going to be fake. It appears Kareem was right. Someone is trying to make it look like the Rahmi people are unhappy, and I think it has everything to do with stopping this lab of yours from being built. We simply don't have any specifics at this point.”

Zain shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit and paced slowly. “So they make Rahmi appear to be in a state of unrest, and they try to kill me, the engine behind the project. They have to be here then.”

“Yes, they are. You’re not safe, son. Let me take over. I can send you to be with your brother far away where you’ll be out of harm’s way.”

Zain shook his head. “No, Dad. I’m not going to be scared away so easily. You taught me to stand up for myself. I swore to protect Rahmi and her people. I intend to do just that by ferreting out whoever is behind this and holding them responsible while getting every nation to agree to this lab. Just keep me filled in on what’s going on in Rahmi.”

“I’ll work on figuring out the motive. That can help lead us to the perpetrators. Although, after reading Kareem’s report, I’m inclined to think Queen Suri is behind this.”

“The most common reasons for attacks are money and revenge. It fits. Now we just need to prove it. I’m going to have Kareem keep an eye on them, but I’m going to see if our friends can find anything out as well,” Zain said as he gathered his notes.

“I’ll look into it as well. Let me know what you find. Be careful, son.” Mo reached out and gave Zain a quick hug before Zain had to leave for the first of several smaller group meetings.

 

*    *    *

 

The chancellor leaned to his side and whispered into Mila’s ear. “The prince seems highly intelligent. Did you get this impression as well?”

Mila gave a single nod and went back to interpreting the group discussion regarding cyber attacks leading to geopolitical tensions.

It was hard not to be impressed by Zain. He had a welcoming demeanor but when he started talking business, he was all business. He was open to other ideas but confident in his own. Since there were no reporters in the room and assistants had been relegated to the hallway, only interpreters and bodyguards were inside. To reassure everyone that open communication was paramount, all attendees were required to hand over all cell phones and were swept for recording devices. Their phones were put in a soundproof box on a table visible to everyone. People had complained at first, but when Zain asked for brutal honesty, they looked relieved knowing there was no way a sound bite might end up on the news. Now, the delegates spoke freely, something they were rarely allowed to do.

The chancellor nudged Mila. “I have a question,” he whispered.

“What is it?” Mila asked in German.

“Tell them that Germany’s problem is we trace cyber attacks against our government or our people, but the home country of the offender refuses to prosecute or turn them over. Ask if the countries, as a group, would be willing to sign an agreement publicly stating that we will prosecute any of our own citizens if evidence of cyber attacks is found against said citizen. Only action against these criminals will deter them.”

Mila finished taking the dictation of the question and slowly raised her hand. Zain saw her immediately. She felt his eyes soften before remembering where they were. “Germany, you have a question?”

Mila gave a serious nod and repeated the chancellor’s question in perfect English. The other interpreters leaned forward and whispered in the ears of their leaders. Some nodded. Some frowned, especially Tahjad. Others remained unmoved.  Mila didn’t have time to take it all in, though. Questions were flying, discussion was raging, and Mila was whispering non-stop in the chancellor’s ear.

By the time the meeting was over, the sun was down and the guests were given an hour to conduct their own business before meeting in the dining hall where Mo and Dani were hosting dinner, celebrating the cuisine of Rahmi, Surman, and Tahjad. They were a small region along the Arabian Sea and very proud of their food.

Mila said goodbye to the chancellor at his room and headed to the room set aside for the interpreters. It was there they would be eating beforehand. During the dinner a few interpreters would sit out of the way and wait to be signaled if they were needed.

“Mila!” a loud, accented voice boomed. The room went quiet as forks clattered on dishes.

Mila relaxed and gave the old Frenchman her happiest smile. “Anton. It’s so nice to see you again. Did you help prepare dinner tonight?”

The six other interpreters decided it wasn’t interesting anymore and went back to eating as Mila picked up a plate. Anton sat next to her as a harried server filled her plate with wonderful-smelling food—so much better than the quick sandwich she was used to.

“I did,” Anton beamed. “And how is our Zain doing with his summit?”

The forks clattering stopped again. Gossip was clearly global.

“The summit is going well. I can’t say more than that. I’m sure you understand.”

“I do. My wife, that’s something different. She’ll be upset if I go home empty-handed. Now, hurry and eat. I know you don’t have much time.”

Mila turned back to the room. It was like high school. Surman and Tahjad were as far away from each other as possible. France was the popular one, as the men from Saudi Arabia and India hung on every word the woman said. That left the Philippines. Mila started toward them when they stood up with empty plates.

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you going to join us?” their interpreter asked.

“I was, but I can see you’re done. Maybe next time,” Mila smiled at the interpreter and the assistant.

“I look forward to it. See you soon,” the woman said politely before heading off.

Mila set her plate down at the empty table. The door to the room opened and Abby and Jackson entered. They spotted Mila and gave her a wave while Surman and Tahjad shot her matching glares from opposite sides of the room.

A minute later, Abby and Jackson took a seat at her table. “What are you all doing here? I mean, I'm thrilled to have someone to eat with . . .”

“We’re the two local guards for the dinner tonight so we have to eat while we can. Much like you. How is it going so far? That talk on cyber threats was intense,” Abby said before taking a bite of her dinner. “Too bad my brother wasn’t here for it. He likes all that kind of stuff.”

“Very, but Zain’s unorthodox meeting seems to be working. They got a lot accomplished,” Mila said, trying not to sound too proud. She didn’t have a claim to Zain, but she was proud of him regardless.

“Tomorrow is all about disease outbreaks and I heard that Piper is coming in on Wednesday. She’s been texting me nonstop, asking about the dignitaries here,” Jackson told her. It was nice. Mila felt included, like she was part of this crazy group of cousins and friends. Growing up, she had never been in one country more than three years or so; she never had a chance to experience friendship at that level. Yet, here she was only in town a couple of days, and she already felt rooted here.

“Did you hear?” Jackson smiled mischievously as he leaned forward. “The panty dropper hit again. This time it was a pink thong.”

Mila laughed out loud as everyone stopped and stared at her again, but she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t need to be the cool kid in the lunchroom. She had something better—friends.

“Where were they this time?”

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