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  “No. The first thing I want to do is find out what exactly went on back there.”

  “I told you I’d met Khalid. And Abdul and Waleed. Perhaps I downplayed it a bit. They’ve been trying to recruit me since I returned from university. When I didn’t hear or see anything after I set off the concussion grenade, I assumed they’d captured you. I knew it was risky to walk in there, but as you saw it didn’t raise Khalid’s suspicions. I just prayed to Allah that he had you stashed someplace where I could get to you.”

  “What would you have done if they hadn’t put me in the back room?”

  Saif shrugged. “I would have pulled the pin on the grenade and hoped either you or I woke up first.”

  Sasha let out a long sigh. She realized her hands were trembling, maybe only now appreciating how close she had come to dying. That, and catching up to the reality of what else she’d done in the last two days. She’d killed at least eight people. God. Where would her life go from here? Who, what am I now?

  “What are you going to tell Yassar?”

  “The truth.”

  “Everything?”

  “I confessed worse to him this morning. Besides, he’s the one who needs to reconcile himself to what Nibmar and Ali were planning. And to what Nibmar had been planning with Ibrahim. I’m sure that will be a blow. And I’m sure I can help him get past it.” She felt the purity of her emotions as she said it, but her raw nerves gave her an ominous sense of a dark future.

  Dawn was just beginning to color the sky as Saif and Sasha drove into the outskirts of Riyadh. Saif turned to Sasha and said, “Believe it or not, even after all this I’d like to see you again.”

  Sasha smiled, placed her hand on top of his on the steering wheel and squeezed it.

  CHAPTER 9

  “SO, HAVE I PASSED THE interview?” Sasha said to Archer, smiling.

  Archer said, “So far.” His eyes were dead as he motioned for Sasha to go on.

  Nothing. The man’s a stone. “It was two weeks later when I saw Saif next. He just showed up at the Royal Palace.”

  Sasha was there again, walking into the entry hall to Yassar’s quarters, from which the Royal Guards had summoned her.

  Saif was standing waiting for her. “You look disappointed to see me,” he said, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  “No, but I thought you’d at least call first.”

  “Yeah. And ask for whom? Former concubine to Ibrahim? You’re not exactly listed in the directory, and if I called the palace switchboard, you think Yassar would take my call?”

  Sasha smiled, then relaxed. She took Saif in. He was good-looking, as she remembered him. High cheekbones, curly brown hair, a slim frame and an athletic build. Still no beard. Today he was dressed as a Saudi young man, white cotton shirt with three-quarter sleeves, black cotton pants. She could smell his cologne. She liked that, obviously done for her benefit. The awkward kid coming for the first date. “How are you?” she said.

  “Good. Just a chap from the northern provinces hoping a sophisticated girl can show me around the big city.”

  Sasha rolled her eyes. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

  “I sometimes have a little trouble breaking the ice.”

  “I’d say that concussion grenade you carried into the room in Buraida already broke the ice in spades.” She walked over to him and took his arm. She whispered, “I don’t believe I properly thanked you for saving my life. I suppose I was still in shock.” She stopped, looked to see that no one was watching, then kissed him. She pulled away, looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  He smiled at her. “Is there somewhere we can go and talk?”

  “I have a favorite spot in the gardens.” She guided him into a corridor, then to a massive glass-domed botanical garden. They sat on a bench in the shade, the frosted glass on the top of the structure shielding them from the midday sun. The air was cool and damp, smelling of moss and orchids.

  He still seemed awkward. “I’m not sure how to go about this here at the Royal Palace.”

  “It’s not any different than anyplace else. You ask me out, we go to dinner, a movie, whatever. Only I wear my abaya and we don’t touch in public. Not any different than in Buraida, I’m sure.”

  “I don’t need Yassar’s permission?”

  “Only mine, and you have it.” She paused, then said, “Why did you do it? Come back for me when I was being held in Buraida?”

  He seemed surprised by her question. “I already told you. I admired your commitment, your willingness to put yourself on the line for what you believe in. I guess that’s something I’ve been struggling with.”

  “How?”

  “Even after seeing what’s happened to my father and how that’s also affected my mother, I’ve had trouble coming to terms with what direction I should take.”

  “Direction?”

  “Abdul and Waleed and their cronies have been trying to recruit me to the al-Mujari. I’ve been torn, not because of any loyalty to the royals, but because I can’t see getting myself pulled along by my nose like most of the other disaffected guys my age I see buying into their rhetoric.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Not letting yourself get dragged mindlessly into it?”

  “Of course. But it also leaves me feeling I’m not taking a stand one way or the other, not willing to believe strongly enough in anything to make a choice.”

  Sasha tilted her head, telling him to go on.

  “It leaves me feeling I’m betraying my father in a way. Like I’m not willing to fight for him. Fight the way you’ve fought for Yassar.”

  Sasha was touched. After a moment Saif said, “How did it go with Yassar after you got back from Buraida?” Her stomach tensed, remembering how she’d felt as she faced Yassar to tell him about shooting both Ali and Nibmar. “Not well in the beginning. I’m sure you can imagine how crushing it was for him. Losing his two eldest sons and his first wife within 24 hours.”

  He took her hand.

  She clasped her fingers through his, held tight. “Trust me, it was worse for him. Much worse. Not just facing the loss, but the reality of what they were plotting against him. He’s still not himself. I’m not sure he ever will be again.”

  “Is he okay with you?”

  “It’s been hard.” She looked up into Saif’s eyes. “But I think I can be there for him in a way the rest of his family can’t. In a way, I’m his oldest child now.”

  Archer was looking at Sasha impatiently, his elbows still on the rough-hewn table. “I hope you’re not going to tell me about the whole 20 years. This is taking forever.”

  Sasha wanted to blast him, but held her tongue. “He saved my life,” she said. “It’s often said that people develop strong bonds after such experiences.”

  “I can imagine. Can’t we cut to the chase? He saved your life and you thanked him in the finest way a concubine knows how, right?”

  Sasha’s anger flared. She leaned forward and spat her words at him. “What are you, an animal? Or is that part of how you’re testing me? Either way it’s incredibly crude. I should spit in your face. I don’t need to take this disrespect from you.”

  Archer’s neck receded into his shoulders. “I apologize,” he said. “I was testing you. Because you’ll need to listen to worse than that if we move forward. Including from Saif.”

  Sasha took a moment to calm herself, then continued with her story.

  After Saif visited three more times, Sasha and he chatting and surreptitiously holding hands in the botanical gardens, walking the grounds of the Royal Palace, taking tea in the courtyard outside the women’s quarters, Sasha began to wonder if this was going anyplace. Saif was young, sexy and available. She was 19, had become accustomed to daily sex for three years, and couldn’t wait for Saif to put his hands on her. She assumed he felt the same way. What in God’s name is he doing?

  Over dinner the next time in town she put it to him. “I’m beginning to wonder if this is the type of Vi
ctorian courtship your stay in England led you to believe I expect.”

  He looked up from his lamb stew, open-mouthed, then laughed. “I already told you I don’t know how to do this.”

  She smiled at him. “So at Eaton you sat in your dorm room and studied every night? Then read your Koran before going to bed at eight o’clock?”

  “Yeah, right.” He shook his head. “What I’m talking about is figuring out how to make a move on a woman who’s effectively the daughter of a member of the ruling family of Saudi Arabia, here, in Riyadh, the capital, with all the ridiculous rules we have in Islam.”

  Now we’re getting someplace. She reached under the table, found his knee, squeezed it. “So does this mean you’re not gay after all?”

  Saif’s smile faded. He rose up in his chair and waved to the waiter. “Check,” he said.

  Sasha started to get upset, thinking she’d pushed him too hard. Was his ego that fragile?

  Then he leaned forward and spoke in a whisper. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen smoke a bunch of Islamic fundamentalist terrorists with a 9mm Ruger semi-automatic. Want to go up to my room at the hotel and knock me around?”

  She laughed. “Only if you’ve got those little peanuts in the minibar.”

  Upstairs in Saif’s room at the Hyatt, Sasha could hardly stand the tension. She was excited to finally be getting to it. She felt the ache for him in her bones as she took off her abaya. Standing in her street clothes, she said, “I need you to know I’m not experienced at this.”

  “You’re hilarious.”

  She unbuttoned her blouse, then reached in and unhooked her bra. She walked over to him, her eyes locked on his, strutting, wanting him to see her desire. “I mean it. I’ve only been with one man before.” She stopped in front of him and opened the buttons on his shirt, then held her blouse open and pressed her breasts against his chest. He pulled her to him and kissed her. She felt his command. She sighed, felt her legs weaken. At last. He walked her to the bed.

  After they made love they napped. She awakened first and watched him as he slept. He was such a gentle lover, so responsive to her, reading her and sensing what she wanted. She felt a surge of desire for him again. He stirred, awakened and smiled at her.

  After a few moments he said, “What was it like?”

  “What?”

  “Being a concubine?”

  Her forearms tensed. “Not much of a romantic, are you?”

  He shrugged.

  She felt a burst of anger and rose up on one elbow, started to pull the sheet up over her breasts, then decided to flaunt them, thrust her chest out. Enough. She’d defuse this now or be done with him for good. “If you’ve got such a problem with it, why are you hanging around? Was this all you were looking for?”

  “No, of course not. I’ve heard about that life, read about it, but it’s just not something I’ve been exposed to firsthand before. It’s such an unusual...” His voice trailed off.

  “You can say it. ‘Profession.’”

  “That wasn’t the word I was looking for. It’s not like you were getting paid.”

  “Well, to be honest, I received a generous allowance. After three years, I’m rich by most people’s standards.”

  He turned to face her. “Why did you do it?”

  She studied his face. He looked troubled, even pained. He can’t get past the fact that I was a concubine. If that was the case, so be it. “I’ve got nothing to hide, and I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done. At the time I felt I didn’t have any other options. With Christina casting me off, I really had no place else to go. In retrospect, I guess the whole concept was so surreal to me that I was suffering from some sense of unreality, and just sleepwalked into it. I never found out how much Yassar paid Christina for me. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I was horrified enough without knowing the amount. But I can remember having a Scarlett O’Hara moment before leaving Christina’s chateau to fly with Yassar to Saudi Arabia.” She laughed. “Remember that scene in Gone with the Wind where Scarlett is standing in the muddy field, a turnip in her hand, dirt under her fingernails and she swears to the heavens, ‘As God is my witness, I’ll never go hungry again’? Well, that day I felt consummately betrayed by both Christina and Yassar, and I swore I’d make enough money to get out and never let myself need anyone else again.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “Yassar.”

  “I’m surprised that you’re still so close with him.”

  “We reestablished our relationship soon enough, after I learned the ways of the Muslim world.” Sasha went back again in her mind to the months after she’d arrived in Saudi Arabia, Yassar schooling her in Islam, helping her with her Arabic, explaining to her the mysteries of Saudi culture. Finally, one day she decided to press him, to hear the apology that would allow her to purge her anger at his betrayal and accept him back into her heart. “Why did you do this to me?” she asked, averting her eyes and keeping her head bowed in the manner she’d learned of a submissive Saudi daughter.

  Sasha sat cross-legged on a prayer mat on the floor of Yassar’s study in the Royal Palace. She faced him where he sat on his own prayer mat in front of a kursi, the stand that held his Koran. They had just finished praying, cleansing themselves after her lesson in Islam. She waited for him to respond, still not making eye contact, giving him time. She heard the rustle of his robe as he got up and seated himself in his chair. She didn’t move, waiting. He said, “Perhaps I didn’t handle things as I might have. I want the best for my son, and I know he needs settling down if he is to be groomed for his role in one day running Saudi Arabia. I confess I was conflicted between that and my affection for you. In a way, Ibrahim is my biggest weakness. One day when you have children you will understand. If I was insensitive to your feelings I regret it.”

  It was as close to an apology as she would get. Still Yassar. She felt a release, a calmness—almost a sensation of her chest being stroked.

  Yassar said, “Your experience of the world with Christina prepared you for this. It surpasses that of Ibrahim’s.” He paused.

  She wanted to tell him Ibrahim’s experience of the world consisted of bullying those around him, indulging his sexual desires and wasting his life on partying. She wanted to force Yassar to hear it, then press him harder, but resisted the urge to spur him on. In his own time.

  “As such I thought you could help guide him, keep him out of trouble. And stand up to him with cleverness in a way the other girls couldn’t. Undoubtedly you’ve observed, well...” He trailed off. “Sometimes a father cannot interfere directly with any productive result.”

  So he knows Ibrahim doesn’t spend his time studying the Koran. And about the cocaine, too? She itched to meet his gaze, read what was in his eyes. She resisted.

  He went on. “I long ago observed that despite your own lack of fear of the world and your fascination to try everything, you do have an ethical rudder. I need you to be Ibrahim’s gyroscope, to straighten him out.”

  Sasha slowly raised her head, her jaw tense, eyes expectant. She met his gaze.

  “Please,” Yassar said. She saw the emotion in his eyes. They pleaded to her, not at all the eyes of one of the most wealthy and powerful men in the world. The eyes of a father, of her mentor, now telling her he was sorry, but asking more.

  Sasha nodded, but she’d already told him with the tears in her eyes that she’d do what he asked.

  For the next two months, Saif returned to Riyadh every Friday night, stayed at the Hilton, and returned to Buraida first thing Monday morning. After the first few weeks, Saif arranged with the concierge to have the same room, so that Sasha and he began to regard it as a little home away from home. One weekend early on, she asked him why they couldn’t see each other during the week. He told her he was still looking for a job, that graduates in economics weren’t in high demand. “Plenty of opportunities to flip hamburgers, though,” he’d said. They both laughed about it, but Sasha sensed his fru
stration.

  One weekend Sasha asked Saif if he could continue to afford the weekly hotel stays. He shrugged it off but she sensed his discomfort. From that point on, Sasha began bringing a hot plate in her luggage and bags of food to cook their breakfasts and dinners. The first weekend he protested, but Sasha prevailed. They’d empty the minibar and use it as their refrigerator.

  In England, Saif had been introduced to Bordeaux wines. Sasha had always made certain the Royal Palace’s cellar was stocked with the best burgundies. After dinner one evening, they lounged in bed, sipping a Charmes Chambertan.

  “Did you have boyfriends in Switzerland?” Saif asked abruptly.

  “Boys, yes. Who didn’t? But I found the men who attended Christina’s parties much more interesting. I had a few crushes.”

  “Anything serious?”

  Sasha looked up at Saif and laughed. “Why are you asking me questions you might not want to hear the answers to?”

  Saif didn’t respond.

  “If you must know, none of the men in Christina’s circle ever touched me. I already told you: I’d only been with one man before you.” She reached over and stroked his hair.

  “What was it like?”

  “Saif, I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “I mean, what was it like being with Ibrahim after you learned he was planning to kill Yassar?”

  Sasha looked off at the wall, experiencing it in her mind’s eye. “Well before that, after Ibrahim had bought into Abdul and Waleed’s nonsense, I made up my mind to take my money and get out.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I felt I needed to convince Yassar that Ibrahim was choosing sides against him, against his way of life, before I could leave.”

  “And?”

  “He couldn’t hear me, just wouldn’t accept it, so I stayed a little longer, then a little longer.” She paused, seeing it in her mind, her emotions welling. “When Tom told me that Ibrahim was planning to murder Yassar for the al-Mujari, I couldn’t leave. It wasn’t long, only a few weeks, that I needed to swallow that horror—sleeping with Ibrahim to keep up appearances, stay close enough, until we could...” She paused. “...until I could kill him. That was an abomination I can’t describe. The only reason I was able to do it was for Yassar.” She felt sickened, remembering it as she spoke. Her face must have shown it, because Saif took her in his arms.