Trusting A Sheikh (Playgrounds of Power 1) (6 page)

"Don't worry, this is between you and I." Tariq smiled encouragingly. "I know he can be one scary guy."

As much as she would have answered almost any question this man could ask truthfully, Chloe took some solace in the knowledge that, on this topic at least, she didn't have much to say. So she told him.

"Honestly, Tariq," just calling the Prince by his first name gave Chloe a kind of thrill, partly as a result of the thrill of consciously rejecting the years of training with the Kingsland Group, and partly because she sensed that his asking her to call him by his first name was far more than simply dispensing with a formality, "I haven't really had much contact with him. But…"

"But?" Tariq prodded gently.

"Well, as I said – I’ve barely spent any time with him. But he looks like, well, a brute doesn't he?"

"A brute?" Tariq grinned. "I suppose he does."

"He just has this tense, nervous energy about him. I mean, you do as well, but his is different somehow, it has a sensation of pent-up frustration and aggression about it."

"And mine? Do I have that as well?"

"No." Chloe laughed, pushing him away and breaking the solemn moment of confidence they'd just shared. The body underneath the palm of her hand felt warm, firm and powerful, and she let her fingers rest on his chest just a few seconds longer than was strictly speaking necessary, before the brief contact broke.

At precisely that moment, with the two of them luckily separated, Tariq's three companions filed down the stairs, each in their full, formal military uniforms: Abdul in Army green, Omar in luxurious Air Force blues, and Khalid in the stark black uniform of the Saudi Interior Ministry.

"I told you… Just look at him," Chloe murmured under her breath, provoking a swiftly muffled smile from Tariq.

"Morning, gentlemen," Tariq greeted the late comers, shaking the hand of each in turn. "So good of you to join us…"

"Ah, it was a long flight, Tariq." Omar grinned. "Cut us some slack, will you?"

"Did you fly over here commercial?" Tariq asked, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Because you certainly can on the way back…"

"Oh, don't be like that, Tariq. Anyway, enough chatting – shouldn't we be on our way?"

Tariq raised an eyebrow, and Chloe had to rein in a smile at the clearly friendly relationship between Omar and the Prince, remembering that whatever had just changed in their personal relationship, she nevertheless had to maintain an entirely professional demeanor in this arena.

"Let's go. Game faces on."

8

T
ariq whistled as the elevator's doors opened, revealing London's early-morning skyline in front of them, sunshine glinting off the elaborate, unique and intriguing designs of East London's many skyscrapers.

"Incredible choice, Chloe."

The compliment shouldn't have meant anything to her, especially since she had been doing this kind of job for a long time – but nevertheless, it did, leaving a warm glow in Chloe's belly.

"Thank you, Prince Tariq," she replied, seemingly demurely, though flashing him a wicked grin the moment his companions’ backs were turned.

"What meeting is this?" Khalid barked at Chloe, without any of the refined airs and graces of his more cultured colleagues.

"Please, Khalid," Tariq replied, turning to his colleague with a look that spoke of equal parts dismay and distaste. "Haven’t you taken the time to review the briefing documents you were provided with?"

Khalid had the good grace, at least, to look embarrassed when admitting that he had
not
in fact looked over the papers, even enough to know who exactly they were meeting that day.

"Then please refrain from taking out your own failures on our dear Miss Rouhani, will you?" Tariq asked, his tone of voice indicating that either Khalid did so, or he would be on the next flight home to meet a none too pleasant end.

Much as Chloe enjoyed seeing the unpleasant man taken down a peg or two, she did worry when seeing the look of suppressed rage on his face at his treatment at the hands of his superior.
Nothing good
, she thought,
could come of that.

To soothe the man's ego, Chloe quickly butted in with the information he wanted. "You'll be meeting with Bodytech Corporation over breakfast this morning. I'm afraid I haven't been given the information on precisely what the company does. It all looks a bit secretive…" She was shocked at the venomous look she received in response to her kindness, and resolved quickly never to volunteer any information to the man that she didn't absolutely have to.

It didn't appear as though Tariq had noticed, or perhaps if he had, then he'd chosen to ignore her treatment for the time being. He rejoined the conversation with no indication that he'd noticed the mood between Chloe and Khalid change. "It's a body armor company."

"Body armor?" Khalid scoffed. "Why do our soldiers need that? That should go to the Interior Ministry, if anyone – we're the ones fighting the terrorists every day."

"What makes you think," Tariq began mildly, "that it won't?"

"You know as well as I do, brother, that everything goes to the Air Force first, and then the Army, and we at the Ministry are left fighting like rats over scraps," Khalid muttered with vitriol in his voice and his bruiser’s face scrunched up with outrage.

"And you know as well as I do,
brother
, that what you're saying simply isn't the case.
After all, didn't the King only last week add another $2 billion to your budget?"

Khalid didn't reply, just stood with his hands scrunched into his pockets, a towering ball of quivering rage.

"Anyway, Khalid, no one said that the Army would be the only branch to receive this new body armor. My father's plan is that all the kingdom's security forces are adequately protected in these dangerous times."

Seeing that his point clearly wasn't getting across to the angry young man, Tariq sighed and gave up, rolling his eyes at Chloe as he turned back to her. "You were wondering why the meeting was so secretive? Why I asked for it to be in a place like this, in complete confidence?"

"I suppose so…" Chloe said equivocally, not wanting to be drawn into the middle of a fight between Khalid and her client, and sensing that the angry bruiser wouldn't want her to know.

"They've invented a new type of Kevlar. I'm told the fibers are packed far closer together, so the material is almost impenetrable to bullets. But much more usefully, at least for us, is the protection it gives against shrapnel."

"What's that?" Chloe asked quizzically.

"Shrapnel? It's a projectile to get swept up in the explosive force of a bomb. The terrorists tend to pack their suicide vests and car bombs with nails and ball bearings which fire out at unimaginable speeds, cutting through anything they come across, and the body armor that we've been using so far has been ripped to shreds by it."

"How come?" Chloe asked, forgetting that she had intended not to show too much interest, but unable to do so now that Tariq had broached the unarguably intriguing conversation.

"I'm no scientist," Tariq joked, "but I'll tell you what I can. As far as I know, the Kevlar essentially sacrifices itself to stop a bullet, but because of that, it's far less useful when there are multiple impacts. Luckily, when it's just a matter of stopping two or three bullets, the vests can handle it without a problem."

"Oh…" Chloe said, not really following Tariq's train of thought.

"The problem comes when you have a hundred ball bearings hitting the vest all at once. The first fifty probably won't make it through, but as they keep coming, eventually the material gives way."

"Oh, I see," Chloe said thoughtfully. "So this new material stops them because there are more layers?"

"Exactly!" Tariq thundered triumphantly, taking pleasure in Chloe's quick grasp of the situation. "I came across the company last year reading a magazine, and it's taken a long time to get them to the negotiating table, but I'm hoping we can do a deal today."

"Good luck…"

"Thanks. I'll need it. When are they due to arrive?"

"They should be here in ten minutes. I've placed a man downstairs to give us a heads up when they arrive."

"Good thinking."

Chloe watched as Tariq's expression quickly darkened with concentration the moment she brought the conversation back to the practicalities of his guests’ arrival. It was fascinating just watching him flit so quickly between entirely different modes – enthusiastic and joking to calm and professional within seconds.

A little buzz from her cellphone indicated that their guests were on their way up the Shard. Since it was London's tallest skyscraper, and the restaurant that they'd booked out was not far from the top, Chloe knew that Tariq would have some time – but not long, to prepare.

"The negotiating party’s here," she said quietly, tapping Tariq on the shoulder to get his attention. "Are you ready? Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No – I'm good," Tariq replied, fixing Chloe with a steely, piercing look. He turned to his entourage – the three colonels and the number of men, all men, that the Saudi embassy had sent over.

"Are we ready?" he asked curtly, rhetorically, heading towards Khalid. The Prince took the unruly colonel to one side, out of Chloe's earshot, but she could imagine what he was saying.
Behave.

The staff formed up around their leader as he headed towards the bank of elevators, any hint of nerves entirely hidden behind a mask of supreme confidence – shoulders pulled back, broad smile and a relaxed, engaging posture.

Chloe watched the whole slightly bizarre situation with interest as the small throng of men dressed in suits and uniforms gathered around, watching as the red floor indicator surged upwards.

Ping!

"Mr. Wilson!" Tariq exclaimed, greeting the tallest of the new arrivals with unbridled charm, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.

"Oh, please – call me Jack,” the man said, smiling – his expression underlined with a hint of something else that Chloe couldn't quite put her finger on. "We've been on this road together for long enough, haven't we?"

"That we have, Jack," Tariq agreed genially. "Who have you brought with you today?"

"As we discussed over email, Charles may or may not pop in later on, but this is my very able deputy, Miranda," Jack pointed at the only woman in the group, an extremely capable looking late thirties executive, "and this is Tom Watson, one of our directors."

"Ah, Tom," Tariq began, while doing the rounds shaking hands, "I think we've been on a conference call together. How’re the kids?"

"Oh, marvelously, thank you," the sandy haired Tom replied, seemingly surprised that he'd been directly addressed. Chloe got the sense that the man performed some kind of back office role – perhaps he was the accountant. "How kind of you to remember."

"Not at all, not at all." Tariq chuckled. "Glad to hear they're doing so well. Shall we all sit?"

As they did so, Chloe again noticed that the leader of the pack of new arrivals, Jack – who was presumably the CEO, seemed consumed by a nervous energy, moving quickly and purposefully towards the square breakfast table, which was set for eight. For a man whose company, according to Tariq, had been difficult to get around the table in the first place, Chloe found it puzzling that Jack seemed so eager to sit down.

They sat down, leaving one place left over for the possible arrival of Charles, the owner of the company.

"Drinks?" Tariq asked, ever the good host, and Chloe watched with approval as the handpicked staff behaved as directed, like they were ghosts – flitting in and out of the meeting topping up cups and filling plates, but never seen.

The meeting dragged on and on, until glasses were emptied and plates removed and the morning sun had risen fully over the skyscrapers that thronged the old City of London. Chloe was no body language expert, but even she could see that the negotiation was clearly at an impasse.

"Can I suggest that we take a few minutes, regroup, and sit down with fresh heads?" Tariq suggested, a slightly tired sigh breaking his composed demeanor for the first time. The group agreed, and Tariq led his entourage away from the table, leaving the delegates from Bodytech seated in intense discussions with each other. Tariq separated from the three colonels and walked over to Chloe with a wan smile on his face.

"Tough day at the office?" Chloe asked sympathetically.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Tariq replied, to Chloe's surprise easily slipping into a husband-wife dynamic.

"Anything I can do?"

"I shouldn't think so. I'm not sure buttering this group up is going to do a whole lot. I just can't for the life of me figure out what the hold-up is…"

"What do you mean?"

"It's like Jack said at the start, we've been walking down this road with them for months – they know exactly why we're all sitting around that table, to buy them, so what's the issue?"

"What's the sticking point? Maybe talking it over will help."

"Hell if I know. It doesn't seem to be the share price, we agreed on that hours ago, and all the executives around that table would be keeping their jobs – I certainly don't have any experience in the body armor industry, and we'd provide written assurances that they keep their jobs in the event of this takeover occurring. So it's not about how much we are offering, or about the people in the company…

"Honestly, Chloe, I have no idea. But I need to get this deal done," Tariq said, frustration creeping into his voice.

"Well, Jack definitely wants to get this deal closed," Chloe said quietly, almost accidentally, as she tried to work through the situation in her head. "So –."

"Why do you say that?" Tariq asked, intrigued. "It feels completely different up there at the negotiating table. He's shooting every proposal down…"

"Oh, maybe I was on the wrong track then," Chloe muttered, slightly ashamed that her thought had so quickly and conclusively been proved incorrect.

"No, seriously – what makes you think that he wants to do the deal?" Tariq asked in a reassuring tone of voice. "What's that thing teachers say to kids – there's no such thing as a stupid question? Let's put it this way – I'm desperate. There's no such thing as a stupid opinion right now."