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Authors: Michael Conley

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BOOK: Lethal Trajectories
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Winthrop Taylor had stood many watches before but could not recall a time when the scope, volume, and velocity of incoming intelligence information had been as intense. While the intelligence puzzle was far from complete, the picture it was starting to paint was dire.

46
Geneva, Switzerland
11 October 2017

O
n an overcast, drizzly Geneva morning, the unmarked plane inched its way into a hangar, then shut down its engines as the giant doors were hastily closed.

Through his window, Jack McCarty glimpsed three identical limousines, each with smoked glass windows, waiting inside the hangar. He didn’t know why there were three cars, but thus far this had been strictly a CIA-directed operation, and he deferred to the pair of husky CIA bodyguards assigned to him.

His four-member delegation was whisked into one limo that, he learned, would take them to their hotel. The second car was an empty decoy that would depart in the opposite direction. He boarded the third car along with his two bodyguards and CIA driver. All three cars left at the same time. Anyone who had somehow managed to learn about the flight and its destination would have to gamble on which car to follow.

Jack’s car took a zigzag route through the city, with the driver apparently taking directions from someone by cell phone. After about twenty minutes on what seemed like a random route, they pulled into a small residential area and parked. After carefully surveying the area, Jack’s bodyguards showed him into another black-windowed car, this one driven by an Arab with a bodyguard of his own in the front passenger seat. They departed again, and the new car made a number of speedy turns that sent Jack bouncing between his two guards before they arrived at an underground parking facility.

They followed the driver and bodyguard through elegantly decorated hallways to a third-floor office suite. Jack’s two bodyguards reluctantly agreed to wait outside the door after giving their charge a handheld beeper to sound in the event of an emergency. The Arab bodyguard opened the door for Jack and then joined Jack’s bodyguards in the waiting room outside. Jack stepped into a large and richly furnished office, where a tall, handsome Arab gentleman rose from a small couch and inclined his head in greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. McCarty. I am Prince Khalid ibn Saud, and I am pleased to meet you. Thank you so much for coming.”

Uncertain of the proper decorum, Jack made an awkward half bow. “Good morning, Prince Khalid. I have heard many good things about you. I, too, have looked forward to our meeting.”

Prince Khalid motioned Jack to a comfortable-looking chair directly across from his couch; the low table between them held an elegant coffee service and what looked like a selection of fruit and pastries. The prince said, graciously, “Please, help yourself to coffee or any other refreshments. I have spent a great deal of time in the United States, and I know how much you Americans like your morning coffee. You must be tired after your long flight.”

“I thank you for your hospitality, Prince Khalid. It was a good flight, but overnight travel is indeed tiring.”

“As you probably know, Mr. McCarty, I am a wanted man. As such, I don’t like to remain in the same place for any length of time. Please forgive me for foregoing the pleasantries, but I would like to get down to business so that we can both return to safer quarters as quickly as possible.”

“I understand, Prince Khalid, and I agree with your concerns. I would also like to compliment you on your forthright interview on Al Jazeera the other day. I can only imagine the backlash it must have stirred up in certain quarters.”

“You are absolutely right. There are people who want me out of the way, and I have been told there is a one-hundred-million-dollar reward for my head. I didn’t know I was worth that much.”

Jack grinned and nodded.

“We both have something in common, and that is our fervent desire to rid the world and Saudi Arabia of Mustafa, the usurper. He is a grave threat to my people and an even graver threat to the Arab community and mankind.” Jack nodded thoughtfully as Khalid continued.

“Neither of us can do much on our own, but together we have the capacity to end his illegitimate regime. I have a thorough knowledge of the major players in this game, as well as inside intelligence, networks, and contacts within OPEC and in other Arab countries. I know where the weak points are and what needs to be done to oust Mustafa and his thugs. What I don’t have is the military muscle and global backing I need to pull it off. America, of course, has the latter but not the former. This is where a mutual alliance may be beneficial.”

“The United States shares your concerns, Prince Khalid. Our allies would also be of the same mind, I’m sure. Clearly, what we need is a champion who can restore the Saudi government to the Saudi people, and it has to be someone those people will embrace—such as yourself.” Prince Khalid nodded appreciatively as Jack continued.

“We have no territorial interest in Saudi Arabia, nor do we have any desire to change your culture or religious practices. Our foremost concern is maintaining peace and stability in the region, and that includes a restoration of the oil markets. Saudi Arabia has been the bulwark of stability for decades, and we’d like to do everything we can to restore that stability.”

“I, too, would like to see the Saudi government once again assume its position as a leader in the Middle East,” Khalid replied. “However, to be very honest with you, Western countries have in the past committed indiscretions against the people and culture of our country, and I would
not
like to see these things repeated as we move forward. I would also be opposed to the introduction of Zionist influence into Saudi Arabia, although I respect Israel’s right to exist as a nation. With those considerations in mind, I think it is very possible for us to work together. How about you, Mr. McCarty; do you see any major hurdles to an alliance?”

“The United States has learned a lot about the Middle East since our drawn-out war in Iraq over a decade ago. If I may be candid with you, Prince Khalid, we were led to believe back then that Ahmed Chalabi would be embraced by the Iraqi people when we went in, and he wasn’t. We want to be sure that any leader we back in this situation has the support of his people. We’ve watched uprisings take place across the Middle East for years now—including Saudi Arabia—and we’re a little gun-shy about who we back. In addition, there have been huge economic gaps between the royal Saudi regime and its people in the past, and this concerns us as we look to the future.”

“Those are legitimate concerns, and I appreciate your honesty and directness. I do hope you are aware that some of the excesses committed by former rulers have been recognized, and steps were being taken at the time of the overthrow to correct some of our problems. I would fully expect you would do your own due diligence, however, and come to your own conclusions.”

“Thank you, Prince Khalid. I was aware of your efforts on behalf of your people, and I also know of the high esteem in which you are held by OPEC and your Arab neighbors.”

“Thank you,” Khalid said—almost humbly, Jack thought. “Unfortunately, you and your brother are fairly new to the scene, and I know little about either of you. Still, I think I’m a fairly good judge of character, and I feel that we share some of the same goals. What other issues do you see?”

“I must confess,” Jack replied, happy with Khalid’s qualified endorsement, “we are deeply concerned with the dirty bombs emplaced in your oil fields, along with Mustafa’s threats of military action against his neighbors. What is your take on his strategy?”

“I’ll start with the dirty bombs. They are a huge threat, and there is no doubt in my mind that Mustafa would detonate them if he knew his gambit was failing. The trick will be to dismantle these bombs before they can be detonated. To do so, we must learn their exact locations and then dispatch teams capable not only of dismantling the bombs, but also of overcoming the defenses likely to surround them. I’m sure you also know that Saudi Arabia’s entire oil-production apparatus was mined with conventional explosives long before Mustafa took over. He has merely added radioactivity to the equation.”

Jack had been aware of this, but hadn’t thought through all of the implications.
Just another roadblock to overcome,
he thought.

“With regard to Mustafa’s nuclear threat,” Prince Khalid continued, “I’ll tell you what I told the reporters at the Al-Jazeera interview: Mustafa has nuclear capability, but I doubt it goes beyond a limited number of weapons purchased on the black market. It can’t be a large arsenal, but as you would say, nukes are nukes. Any intelligence I can gather on the regime’s nuclear arsenal I will share with you, should we choose to work together.”

“Of course, we deeply appreciate that offer,” Jack said, “for in that respect the safety of the Saudi Arabian people is linked to the safety of millions in the Middle East and beyond.” Privately, he thought that Khalid was a treasure trove of intelligence that would take the CIA months to gather on its own—if ever.

“As for our Arab neighbors,” Khalid continued, “it’s only a matter of time before Mustafa coerces or invades Kuwait, Qatar, or the United Arab Emirates. He must have their support if he is to ensure that a critical mass of oil is kept off the market. I know my counterparts in these countries—they will indulge Mustafa for only as long as it takes to assess the desert winds. When their economies start to falter for lack of oil revenue, they’ll find ways to move the rest of their oil. This, Mustafa cannot tolerate.”

“How long do you think King Mustafa can hold out without oil revenues?”

“That’s a good question, Mr. McCarty, and I don’t know if I can answer it. My guess is that he can hold out for a couple of months. After that, he’ll need revenue. He’ll probably funnel a couple of million barrels a day through an intermediary on the black market, and at future oil prices that will be enough to sustain the Saudi economy for some time. Using that approach, he could easily outlast the United States and China in a battle of attrition.”

“What impediments do you see against us working together, Prince Khalid?”

“First of all, let me say that I think we
can
work together. However, we must first become more comfortable with each other’s expectations. The single largest deal-breaker is Israel. The United States must do whatever it takes to keep them from invading an Arab country or, worse, making a nuclear strike. Should that happen, given America’s close ties with the Israelis, there would be no way we could work together. America would become our sworn enemy.”

“Let’s suppose we work together and find a way to dispose of the Mustafa regime. What assurances do we have that you, as the new king of Saudi Arabia, will hold to our agreement and not exclude America or others from your oil?”

Prince Khalid thought about this before answering. Jack worried for a moment that he had been too blunt, but the prince appeared to accept his no-nonsense directness.

“Mr. McCarty, I could also ask you the same question regarding America’s commitment after a regime change. But it’s a good question, and I’ll answer. Oil is the key factor here, and I would be willing to do three things to lend stability to the market:

“First, I would agree to put the defense of Saudi oil fields in the hands of United Nations forces for a two-year period to ensure that there are no oil-supply interruptions due to inside or outside actions. Second, I would offer my services to broker a long-term oil protocol between
all
OPEC oil producers and importers guaranteeing the stability of the global oil markets. Third, I will use my position to bring about greater economic reforms and increase sharing of oil revenues among the Saudi population.

“As a quid pro quo, I would insist that our culture and religion be honored and respected by all who visit our country. And, of course, Zionists would be prohibited from entering Saudi Arabia.”

It was obvious to Jack that the prince had given this a lot of thought. The full scope of Khalid’s proposal suddenly struck Jack, and he asked, “Are you safe here in Geneva, Prince Khalid?”

“In all honesty, I don’t know. For now, I am well protected by people I trust, and I have the resources to build a small army of my own. Still, I must confess that the price tag on my head would be a major temptation for even the most loyal of my followers.”

“Would you wish to have asylum in America, Prince Khalid?”

“At this point, I’m not sure. If it’s an offer, I’ll give it serious consideration.”

“It is an offer, but I’ll wait to hear from you on that. Where would you like to take things from here?”

“I’d like to do some hard thinking about what has been said here. My initial reaction is favorable, but, of course, the truth can only be found in the details. I imagine you have further research to do on me before we commit to anything as well. I will leave you with an intermediary contact who will know how to reach me if you have further questions—and I’m sure you will have some. How about you, Mr. McCarty? What are your thoughts before we part ways?”

“Well, my first task will be to call the president and report on our meeting. Personally, I have been impressed with your forthright approach and the clarity of your vision, Prince Khalid, and I intend to tell that to the president. The decision will be in his hands, but he is my brother and I’d like to think he’d at least listen to me. I expect we will be in contact with you soon, and I hope you’ll think favorably about working with us, as I hope we can with you.”

“That would be my hope. Going forward, Mr. McCarty, I’d appreciate if you would just call me Khalid.”

“Certainly, Khalid, and I hope you will call me Jack.” Jack was touched by the gesture. One more barrier broken down, and while he didn’t know all that much about Saudi royal etiquette, he accepted it as a sign of growing trust.

They shook hands, and Prince Khalid escorted him to the door, where he rejoined his two CIA bodyguards.

Once back at the CIA limo, Jack asked his two body guards to move to the front seat so that that he could make a private call.

BOOK: Lethal Trajectories
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