The Aisha Prophecy (32 page)

This last was almost enough to sway Rasha. An idea of her own put her over the top. She would insist that her mother arrive safely in Toulon before any of these funds could be touched. She scrambled the accounts. It took her only ten minutes. In that time, she changed two of the passwords as well. She deleted all the names and the bank codes. But first she downloaded the original file so that it could be restored if her father behaved. In the meantime, that ten billion was frozen. She then sent the message to her father. She sent it through this cousin who was handling the search. She included the address of an Islamic website that routinely took personal messages. She said she would watch for his answer.

There was no reply yet. Nothing as of this morning. She’d hoped for at least a progress report regarding the arrangements for her mother’s departure. In the meantime, Niki was busy.

The scrambling had been done on her computer, not Rasha’s. As soon as Rasha was out of the room, Niki downloaded the file once again. She now had the new passwords. She changed two of them again. She had her own plans for these new ones. She left the first one so that others could get in, but only far enough to see the message, “She Is Coming.”

She entered that message and a lot more. Niki knew that someone would check right away to see whether Rasha had done as she’d claimed. Next they’d try to circumvent the new passwords. So Niki, on her own, planned an ambush. According to Netanya, the next person who tried was some banker who showed up in Riyadh with her father. Niki was ready for them.

She identified herself as one of Aisha’s handmaidens. She implied that this was done at Aisha’s direction. She called them hypocrites and thieves. She said that when Aisha comes, which could be any day now, she’ll begin by taking back the ten billion.

Elizabeth asked Niki, “Where is that disk now?”

She barely whispered her answer. “On my hard drive. In my room.”

“How many copies? God help you if you lie.”

“Only one. I made a back-up. Not for any bad purpose. It’s a good idea to always…”

She said, “Martin, please go with her. Take Rasha. Make sure.” She said, “Shahla, my apologies. I judged you too quickly.”

Shahla waved it off. “I could see how you would.”

Elizabeth spread her arms. Shahla entered them. They hugged. Elizabeth said, “Niki, go to the library. Shut the door. Sit and think. Do not set foot out of that room.”

Niki asked her, chin quivering, “Will you send me away?”

“Just get out of my sight,” said Elizabeth.

Niki left them, shoulders hunched, racked with sobs.

Aisha, all this time, had said hardly a word. Now she asked in a halting voice, “Will they… think that I am Aisha reborn? If they do, they’ll think you must be Qaila.”

She said, “Don’t worry. We’re going to fix this. We’ll decide what to do when Harry gets here with the others.” She added, “In the meantime, today’s still your birthday. Go and change. It’s too late to play tennis, but we’re still going shopping. We’ll have some time alone. Just the two of us.”

Aisha left. Walking slowly. She closed the study door behind her. Shahla said to Elizabeth, “She’s scared.”

“I could see that.”

Shahla said, “Yes, but I’m not sure you know why. Did you know that her mother comes to see her in her dreams? Did you know that they have long conversations?”

“She’s told me.”

“Aisha dreamed of her last night. She was telling us after prayers. She said her mother was telling her that today would be special. Special beyond anything Aisha could imagine. Her mother told her how proud she is of her.”

“Referring to Aisha’s sixteenth, though,” said Elizabeth. “Not about all this other nonsense.”

“No, no mention of the prophecy. No mention of the money. That would really have been spooky if there were. Aisha thought that she meant her party at Mangiamo. She already knew it would be extra special when she learned that Mr. Whistler would be flying in for it. That’s why she asked her mother what more was going to happen that would be beyond her wildest dreams. All her mother would say was, ‘Wait and see.’ My first thought was that maybe you’ll be teaching her to drive. You can drive at sixteen in Virginia.”

Elizabeth nodded. “We did have a learner’s permit in mind. Martin planned to start teaching her this weekend.”

“Well, that’s all I wondered. But you saw what came next.”

“You said no one was serious when you talked about the prophecy.”

Shahla answered, “We weren’t. Least of all Aisha. But here’s all this happening today, on her birthday, right down to the tennis whites she’s wearing. Here’s Aisha – she can’t help it – she’s starting to wonder whether this is what her mother was talking about.”

Elizabeth made a face. “It was only a dream.”

“She was staring at you after you scrolled back and read the text of prophecy aloud. The angel Qaila doesn’t turn up out of nowhere. She’s been there all along. She’s been guiding her, protecting her until she comes of age.”

“Uh-huh. And on that day, Qaila springs it on the kid that she is the Lady of the Camel?”

“On her birthday,” said Shahla. “Maybe this one.”

Elizabeth waved a hand. This was just too ridiculous. She said to Shahla, “She’s too bright to believe that.”

“She is very bright. She’s other things, too. She’s a kid, but a very spiritual kid. And… don’t laugh, but she’s almost too pretty to be real. Perfect teeth, no fillings, big brown eyes like a deer. Have you noticed her skin? Not a mark. Not a blemish. If I were to imagine Aisha reborn, our Aisha is what I would imagine.”

“Angels shouldn’t have any blemishes either. I’ve got enough for the two of us.”

Elizabeth checked her watch. Harry wouldn’t get here until five at the earliest. Not much time to meet. The party’s at seven. But still plenty of time to go shopping with Aisha. There’s a Lord & Taylor up at Landmark Mall. Aisha could use the distraction.

She said to Shahla, “I was thinking of a whole new look for her. A grown woman’s look. A black cocktail dress. One that shows off a little of that skin that’s so perfect.”

Shahla brightened. “With high heels. She says she’s never had heels.”

“And light on the accessories. A silver herringbone chain. Silver earrings with black onyx. Or maybe black pearls. Simple. Understated. Less is more.”

Shahla said, “Just don’t let her pick anything white.”

“I think she’s got the message,” said Elizabeth.

“Would you like me to come? It might put her more at ease.”

“No, you stay here and keep an eye on your sister. I’d feel better if you all stay inside.”

And out of sight, thought Elizabeth, from anyone watching. She’d had a feeling, several days now, that she’d had a shadow. That old pickup truck. Seen in too many places. She’d seen it again Monday when she left Mangiamo. She’d seen it through the mirror of her compact. To make sure, she’d changed her route, made a random turn. When the driver didn’t follow, she felt a bit silly. No one uses a pickup for a tail. But there was that other one. The silver Ford Escape. She’d also seen that one in too many places. But at one time it looked like it was following the pickup. It probably wasn’t. She’d been at this too long. Too much looking over her shoulder.

Elizabeth’s face took on a wistful expression. Shahla saw it. She asked, “Is something else wrong?”

“Just thinking,” said Elizabeth. “Who would believe this? Who would believe that one girl did all this?”

Shahla dropped her eyes. There seemed nothing to say.

“One girl with a computer, the whole world within reach. One girl might be turning that whole world upside down. Who’s going to believe it? Would you?”

Shahla sighed. “Not if I hadn’t seen it,”

“You like to write essays? There’s the subject for your next one. One girl. A good computer. Too much time on her hands.”

Talk about doomsday devices.

THIRTY 

“You rascals,” said the note that Haskell had left. “We must have a good long talk when I get back.”

Haskell had left it at the front desk, to be given to either the banker or the mogul when next they returned to the cabin. They had gone there promptly after seeing Leland off. They had rehearsed what they hoped would be a rational discussion concerning the actions they had taken.

“Back?” asked the mogul. He was speaking to the desk clerk. “Back from where? Did he say where he was going?”

“All I know is to the airport. He asked to be driven.”

“Sacramento?”

“Yes, sir. He has his corporate jet there.”

“So do most of us,” said the mogul, “but does he intend to use it? Did he call from your desk to have it readied?”

“No, sir, but he could have done that from the limo. He only stopped long enough to dash off that note. I assumed that some urgent business matter had arisen. But I think he’s only gone for the day.”

“Why is that?”

“All he carried was a briefcase. No overnight bag. And he’d changed into a dark business suit.”

“I see,” said the mogul. He said, “Thank you,” to the clerk. He took the banker aside. He lowered his voice.

“I’d have thought that Charles, having realized what we’ve done, had rushed off to try to catch Howard Leland. Show Leland that the note’s not destroyed after all. Charles would have made a copy of his own.”

“Except for…”

“I know. The business suit and the briefcase.”

The banker nodded. “And taking the time to change. That would seem to rule out chasing Leland.”

“So he has flown off somewhere. Still, why the suit? One dresses for function or one dresses for effect. I’m sure it’s an elegant well-tailored suit, but who on earth would Charles be hoping to impress any more than he would in what he’s worn here?”

“Perhaps not to impress. Perhaps more to fit in.”

“To not seem out of place?” asked the mogul. “That makes sense. Who and where, though?”

“Well, it’s not to call a meeting of his board of directors. He’s gone to see someone who could further his cause.”

“You’re thinking Kessler?” asked the mogul. “To try to deal with him directly?”

“Telling him, ‘Here’s the note. Get me the disk or I release it.’”

“He’d release it regardless. Kessler would know that, as would Harry Whistler. Besides we still come back to the question of that suit. I doubt that Kessler enforces a dress code.”

The mogul pondered. “If not those two, perhaps Roger Clew. Fly to Washington; show Clew what he has on Clew’s boss. Perhaps even getting there before Leland. A nice suit would certainly fit in at State. He’d do this hoping that Clew is sufficiently loyal to bail Leland out by delivering that disk.”

“Or getting Clew to get Kessler to do so.”

The mogul growled within himself. He didn’t like this at all. If they’d had the chance to sit down with Haskell, they might have persuaded him to listen to reason. And then, if this works, to forgive and forget. But that chance is blown. Haskell’s off on his own. Haskell now has all day to reflect on their “rascality.” Don’t bet on him forgiving and forgetting… unless…

“Tell you what,” said the mogul. “Let’s assume he’s back tonight. I’ll wait up for him; you needn’t. I know the man better and I know that he unnerves you. Leave Charles Haskell to me.”

“You and Charles? Alone?”

“You and I will talk at breakfast.”

“Tomorrow morning?” asked the banker.

“First thing,” said the mogul. “Clearer heads. A few things settled.”

“I… suppose you’re right,” said the banker. “You don’t need me. You truly are so much better with Haskell than I am.”

The mogul heard the hesitation. He said, “Listen to me. You and I need each other. The question is, do we need Charles Haskell? His companies have no shortage of ambitious executives who would readily fill any void. As a matter of fact, I have one in mind. My good friend at Scorpion Systems.”

“The man whose firm you found for Haskell? Would he turn against him?”

“Against him? My dear man, he’s never been for him. He reports to me. Always has.”

The banker could only stare.

The mogul said, “We must face it. Charles is out of control. And if we play our cards right, he’s superfluous.”

“Are you saying…?

“You need to hear it in plain language? Very well,” said the mogul. “We get him before he brings us down with him. And certainly before he gets us.”

The banker felt his stomach rising into his throat. My God. What now? First, it’s the prince who was no longer needed. Now it’s Charles Haskell who’s superfluous? And as for the two of them needing each other, that is no longer true either. His own role had been to get at those Saudi names and then siphon that ten billion off through his bank. To then launder the money through his several Mideast branches. But the money that had sat in Saudi Overseas Charities isn’t there anymore for all practical purposes. Whether or not they get their hands on that disk, he is now the least needed of the three.

Oh, dear, thought the banker.

Still another thought struck him. This one even more troubling. He remembered what the mogul had once said of Roger Clew. Unlike Charles, his stock in trade isn’t killing people off. It’s in getting rival factions to do the job for him. Could it be? Is it possible? Is he pulling the strings here?

No. Don’t be silly. Get hold of yourself. There’s no unseen hand. They’re doing all this to themselves.

“Are you all right?” asked the mogul.

“Hmm? Yes, quite,” said the banker.

“Well? Did you hear me? Did you hear what I said?”

“Before he gets us. Yes, quite plainly.”

“Do you agree?”

“You know best. You always do. But this sort of thing isn’t…”

“Your cup of tea. I know that. Leave this to me.”

“How would you… when would you…?”

“All in good time. I’ll talk to Charles when he returns. I’ll calm him. Reassure him. Then I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

The banker’s thoughts had gone beyond his own fear of Haskell. He was almost more afraid of the mogul. He now wondered whether he would ever see breakfast. Whether he, himself, would be found in his shower. Whether he’d be found at all, for that matter. Whether his room would be all squeaky clean as if it had never been occupied.

Would they dare? A second time? Two calls in two days to the Maintenance Chief?

Crazy.

Impossible.

Not a member of his standing. He was Reginald Leeds. Sir Reginald Leeds. He wasn’t some minor Saudi prince.

Nor, for that matter was Huntington Bentley and Bentley could end up deceased just as easily if Haskell should see through his “reassurance.”

Oh, dear indeed. This doesn’t bode well. Yes, he’d sleep, wait ‘til morning, but he wouldn’t sleep here. He’d find a bed in a cabin half a mile away. Or a lobby couch. A laundry pile if need be.

He said to the mogul, “By all means, you deal with him.”

We’ll see which of us makes it to breakfast.