Getting Cocky
Chapter 29
The meeting for the 15th was drawing close. And it would be at high noon. Like the movie, we were looking for a little help from our friends, specifically the Saudi security folks: the General Intelligence Directorate. We needed a beard to play the role of the Iranian emissary. Fortunately, there was no dearth of them in the country. Tonsorial grooming, but not necessarily cleanliness, was next to Godliness in this part of the world.
Once again, the U.S. embassy’s security office came to our aid and facilitated a meeting with the Saudis. We’d been incredibly lucky, or Vlad incredibly unlucky, in terms of the countries we’d travelled to in our now seemingly endless journey. Each was friendly with the United States which gave our embassies security attachés unprecedented access to the host government intelligence and security services. Unfortunately, that degree of cooperation was lacking in other countries around the world.
Abdulla bin Abdulla was an impressive figure who stood over six feet tall and wore a traditional, pure white thobe that reached his ankles. A ghutra or scarf with its red and black checked cloth held in place by a black rope band sat atop his head. He’d been selected to play the role of the Iranian by his superiors. The Saudis were keen to participate in our scheme knowing their oil facilities and operations were at great risk from Vlad. They too had been closely following world events and the terrorist attacks, worrying they might be next. It was a logical concern on their part as Saudi Arabia was the largest oil producer among all others and, therefore, the largest target possible.
Abdulla offered us hot tea and we accepted since it was a polite and culturally expected ritual before starting meetings. Tea first, palavering afterwards. Pet sat behind us looking like a dejected spectator which she was. As a woman, she was a second class citizen in this setting and she didn’t like it. I tried to get her to wear a burka, but she not-so politely refused, flipping me her middle finger instead. At that point, I thought she was too Americanized for her own good. Well Pet, in the immortal words of James Brown: “It’s a man’s world, but it ain’t nothin without a woman!” And it was especially so in the Middle East.
We spent a few minutes doing the intros and establishing our bona fides before moving on to the topic de jour. Abdulla had been educated at the Sandhurst Royal Military Academy in the U.K. Like many Saudis, he’d attended school abroad and was being groomed for a top government slot in the kingdom. He was also a prince, one among many in the royal family, but joked he was so far away from the throne he couldn’t even see it with the Hubble telescope. I really liked his sense of humor and down-to-earth attitude. I thought we’d be meeting with a stuffed shirt or thobe as the case might be. I was wrong and shouldn’t prejudge people as I tended to do.
Other than introducing herself, Pet sat quietly behind us, probably seething at her treatment by her male counterparts. I’d tell her later it was superiors she was referring to and not counterparts. God, she’d be furious with me for that teasing slight. She and Gloria Steinem wouldn’t ever forgive me for my intentional gaffe. I suspected she’d bitten her tongue so often it was now raw. But I still might get a royal chewing out from her later.
The Saudis and Iranians didn’t quite get along. That understatement somewhat put their relationship into better context, but a hate, hate one would be more accurate. The Saudis blamed Iran for fermenting terrorism throughout the region and attempting to destabilize the kingdom. A number of terrorist acts had occurred on Saudi soil and Iran had been responsible for many. So Abdulla felt a little uncomfortable in his new role, but understood its importance to take down Vlad. As a senior operative in the counterterrorism division of his service, he knew it had to be done because critical Saudi interests were at stake.
“So what is you plan of action, Mr. Avery?” He asked with a clipped British accent. His English was much better than my American, I thought and was chagrined.
“Vlad has agreed to meet you, your new persona, this coming Friday at the main mosque in the old city of Diriyah. There we expect you to make a positive identification and clandestinely signal us if that’s the case. Absence of a signal will indicate he’s sent someone else in his place, an unwitting dupe, or that no one showed up for the meeting. In that event, we need to back away and wait to see what happens next in this deadly game of cat and mouse.” I didn’t explain to him he’d play the role as my witting cat’s paw.
“You’ll be wearing a dark business suit with a white shirt and no tie. You’ll also be carrying a rolled newspaper in your right hand. These are Vlad’s instructions and must be scrupulously followed or he’ll leave the mosque without making contact.”
“I’m very familiar with the famous mosque and its surroundings. Friday is a holy day here as I expect you already know. That’s both a good and bad thing for the location of the trap you’re setting. The mosque will be crowded with worshipers and I can easy insinuate my men among them. The bad news is there will be many innocent people present who might die if caught up in an exchange of gunfire, if it comes to that. That’s the major downside I can see, but I think we need to go with it regardless. We don’t seem to have any other choice.”
“Vlad is much too important of a threat to my kingdom to pass up. We need to act now or we may lose him again so he can continue to terrorize the oil producing countries. If, as you say, he was responsible for the Luanda attack, then he’s running a very sophisticated terrorist organization indeed. The grace of Allah must be with us on this most righteous of missions.”
We’d meet again tomorrow with Abdulla to go over the details and work out the logistics. We’d be present for the takedown, but it was really his show and on his head if things went south. That was the direction of Mecca so we clung to the hope of some divine intervention to have things go our way for a change.