Heroes Never Die (16 page)

Stephanie respectfully waited for King Hamid to be seated, but he graciously yielded to her.  She took a seat across from him and noticed the official flag to the right of his chair.  She translated the white Arabic script, “There is no god but God and Mohammed is his Prophet.”  The motto was a subtle reminder that changes of any kind were not welcome.  But
Stephanie had not come to change their way of thinking.  She opened her portfolio and took out her list of questions to begin the interview.  When she looked up, the king was casting a condemning look at her legs.  She gasped when she realized her mistake.  She quickly uncrossed her legs and tucked her feet beneath the chair.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” she apologized, attempting to smooth over her offensive behavior.  “Your customs are so
very different than my own.  I’ll be more careful.”

He accepted her apology with a gentle warning.  “You are free to sit however you wish, but only while you are in my presence.  But always keep your soles from view.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”  She kept her feet firmly planted in their proper place.

A male servant entered the room with coffee service
, and Abdullah motioned for him to pour for Stephanie first.  The servant moved unobtrusively between them, and then he bowed his head and left.  Abdullah reached for his cup and took a sip.

“You are very young, Mickey.  I’m surprised
that Minute Magazine sent me such an unseasoned journalist.”

At first Stephanie thought he was probing into her fictitious cover, but his warm eyes were not indicative of mistrust.  He was
merely making an observation.  “Our more seasoned journalists are in the field covering the war.  I’m the best journalist my editor has at his disposal right now.  I have successfully interviewed other dignitaries without difficulty, but I have a feeling you’re going to shred me to pieces.”

He chuckled.  “It is tempting.  But I think you will find me to be a reasonable man.  As long as you don’t double-cross me, I will not retaliate against you.”

Stephanie was quick to pick up on his off-the-record remark.  “Do you always take an ‘eye for an eye’?”

“Always,” he firmly replied.

“The United States and Saudi Arabia have historically enjoyed a peaceful, mutually-beneficial relationship.  You suddenly changed your foreign policy by closing your air base to the United States military.  You also raised the price of oil to sixty dollars a barrel.  Is it a fair statement that you are retaliating against the United States for double-crossing you?”

“Let me remind you that there is no formal agreement between the United States and Saudi Arabia.  I am free to use my air base however I choose.  And no agreement exists that forbids me from raising the price of oil.”

“But it was a drastic price increase, a move on your part that was considered to be hostile.  Was it hostile?”

He dodged her question.  “The higher the demand
, the higher the price.”

“The lower the price
, the more the demand.  Can you expect to move your oil at sixty dollars a barrel?”

“Oil is like food.  No one can survive without it.”

“But your price has thrown our economy into a state of chaos.  Surely you must have foreseen the consequences of your decision when you raised the price of oil.  If you retaliate for being double-crossed, has the United States made some sort of attempt to undermine your economic stability?”

“It
is my turn to ask you a question,” he said, changing the subject.  “Why aren’t you married?”

His abruptness stunned her.  He had avoided her last question altogether, and she had a strong feeling that had he answered it, his mysterious tilt toward Russia would be solved.  It was a question she would have to work back to.

She didn’t want to answer his question, either.  “I was engaged once,” she said defensively, as though she had to prove that she wasn’t a complete recluse.

“And?” he pushed.

“And,” she stammered, “he broke my heart.”

“He must have been a very foolish man.”

“Most men my age are foolish, and very reckless.  I have decided to stay clear of all men under the age of forty.  I prefer older, more stable men.”

“Any particular man in mind?”

“No.  But time is on my side.  I’m hardly an old maid.”

“In this country, you would be an old maid.”

“Oh?” she questioned.  “At what age is a woman considered to be an old maid in Saudi Arabia?”

“Seventeen.  All girls should be married before then.”

“At seventeen, I didn’t even know what love was.”

“Nor does anyone.  Love can only grow out of marriage.  It can never precede it.”

“Interesting philosophy.”  She knew it would be rude to inquire about his wives, but the opportunity had just presented itself, and she wanted to test his comfort level.  “How about you, Your Highness, are you in love with your wife?”

“My wife?” he questioned as she took a sip of coffee.  “
I have had over thirty wives.”

Stephanie choked but managed to swallow her coffee without spewing it out of her mouth.
  “Thirty wives?”  Still suppressing the sensation to gag on her coffee, her eyes wide, she struggled to regain her composure.  “That’s a lot of aggravation.”

“Indeed.  I have divorced most of my wives for that very reason.”

“I know this is a silly question,” she asked, “but why would a man want thirty wives?”

He was quick to answer.  “Pleasure,” his voice boomed with enthusiasm.  “Surely a beautiful woman like yourself thinks about the pleasures of sex?”

Sex was the one topic Stephanie wanted to avoid.  “Not very often,” she lied.  “Actually, owning an emerald necklace would probably give me just as much pleasure.”

“Now you’re teasing me.”  She had also made a mistake, one that left her dangerously vulnerable.  “The Koran allows for concubines.  Perhaps you would be willing to accept an emerald necklace?”

Stephanie’s tongue suddenly felt so swollen that she could barely swallow.  Somewhere along the line she had lost control of the interview.  She was not setting him up.  He was setting her up.  Frightened, her mind raced for an appropriate comeback.

The Crown Prince suddenly appeared in the room.  His unexpected visit saved her.  She could feel her knees trembling as she stood.  Abdullah also rose to greet him.  S
tephanie could see that he was visibly disturbed by the intrusion, but he didn’t neglect his manners.

“Tareef, I want you to meet Miss Mickey Chapman from Minute Magazine.  Mickey, this is my brother, the Crown Prince, Tareef Hamid.”

“I’m honored to meet you, Your Highness.”  He nodded his head to acknowledge her, and then he turned to his brother.

“Something urgent has come up.  I need to speak to you in private.”

Abdullah turned to Stephanie.  “You will excuse me?”

“Yes, of course.”  Relieved, Stephanie watched as they stepped into the next room.  She cocked her ear to hear them better, but she was only able to make out certain words.  They sounded as though they we
re arguing, but in Saudi Arabia that was the normal way to converse.

Stephanie heard aggressive footsteps heading back toward the receiving room.  She stood to her feet when Abdullah entered the room.  His gait was extremely powerful, and she instinctively felt the urge to back away from his intimidating approach.  He came uncomfortably close to her, far from within the respectable distance a man should stand from a woman.  He had more than just business on his mind.  “I apologize for the interruption.”

Stephanie felt his hot breath on her face.  “No apology is necessary, Your Highness,” she said, forcing herself to keep her cool composure.  “I understand that you have matters more pressing than this interview.”

“Yes
, and I am afraid we must postpone our interview until tomorrow.  But I will make it up to you.  Ayub is scheduled to take you on a tour of my kingdom, but I will take you myself.”

Stephanie’s eyes sparkled with phony appreciation.  “That’s more than I could ever ask for, Your Highness.”

“It would please me if you called me Abdullah.”

“All right – Abdullah.”  Her face quivered with a nervous smile.

“Ayub will take you back to your hotel.  I look forward to continuing where we left off.”

Stephanie wasn’t sure whether he was referring to their interview or to the emerald necklace.  “Then tomorrow it is.  Goodbye, Your Highness.  Thank you very much for meeting with me.”

“Excuse me?” he asked.  She could only guess what he wanted.

“Goodbye, Abdullah?”  Then he moved even closer, as though he were going to kiss her.  She was
relieved when Ayub walked in to take her back to the hotel.

Stephanie was
glad to be in the safety of her hotel room.  Abdullah was nothing more than a steamroller, and his only intention was to lay her flat on her back.  She had planned all kinds of artificial lines in order to seduce him, but now she had to come up with phony excuses to keep him at a safe distance without letting him slip away.  She sat at the desk and turned on the power to her laptop computer.  Ayub had returned her confiscated equipment, compliments of King Hamid.  Knowing him did have its privileges.

She had a story to write, and before she began, she thought about the conversation she had overheard between Abdullah and his brother, Tareef.  Her mind worked to solve the puzzle.  The Dead Sea was in Israel.  The United States would not be drilling for oil there unless a deal had been made with Israel.  And the United States would not undertake the exploration unless the results promised to be profitable.  Suddenly the puzzle seemed to fit.  Hamid was afraid that America would strike oil in the Dead Sea, causing the economic stability of his own country to collapse.  No wonder he had reversed his policy. 
All Stephanie had to do was weave the information into her story without getting caught.  She worked until her eyes became blurred with fatigue.

Chapter Fifteen:

Stephanie was accustomed to being able to freely come and go as she pleased.  Another minute cooped up in her room, pacing back and forth, twirling her hair in her finger, and she would go stark raving mad.  There was a loud rap on the door.  Ayub had finally arrived to take her to the palace.  She swung the door open, anxious to see something other than the four monotonous walls that kept her confined.

“Greetings,” the deep voice hailed.  Strangely, she was eye level with his chest.  She lifted her focus.  Abdullah’s imposing size startled her.

“Your Highness,” her voice shook with nervousness.  “Good morning.”

“Abdullah,” he corrected.  Stephanie was sure he could sense her fear.  “Were you expecting Ayub again?”

“Actually, yes.”  She wondered whether Sharia law permitted a man to enter a woman’s room.  “Are you allowed to come in?”  He suddenly looked as though his authority had just been slapped with an insult
, and Stephanie felt incredibly stupid for asking.  “Of course you can come in,” she floundered.  “You’re the king.  You can do whatever you want.”  She stood to the side of the door to allow him to enter.  He brushed past her elegant form.  “I see that you received your equipment.”

“Yes,” she said, gently closing the door.  She felt uneasy in the room with him.  “Thank you for allowing my belongings to be returned.  I was able to begin on my story.”

“And how is your story coming?”

“I have lots of empty spaces to fill in, but we can work on that today.”

“This is for you.”  He handed her a neatly-folded, ankle-length black abaya.  “Put it on for me.”

S
tephanie held up the robe by its shoulders and let the delicate fabric gently unfold to the floor.  She slipped the robe over her shoulders and then pulled it into place.  Then the king handed her the dreaded veil.  Consenting to wear it contradicted everything she believed in, but this was not the time to take a stand for equality.  She draped the sheer, waist-length hijab over her head.  She could see through it, but her entire being was shrouded beneath centuries of starless gloom and she suddenly felt separated from the entire world.

It was obvious that Abdullah was pleased that she had accepted the customary dress for Saudi women.  The veil concealed her beauty from all other men.  “What do you think of your veil?”

She tried to be gracious.  “It’s dark in here, that’s for sure.”

“When a Saudi man takes a wife,” he said as he slowly lifted her veil, “it is his privilege alone to lift her veil and kiss her.

“We have a similar custom in the United States.”  She forced herself to remain calm.

“Ah, yes.  Pleasure knows no boundaries
, do you agree?”

S
tephanie saw the craving in his eyes as he moved his rugged mouth closer to her.  “Are you ready to go?”  She swung around and headed for the desk.  She picked up the microcassette recorder and flipped it on to test the batteries.

Abdullah immediately went to her side and took the recorder from her hand.  He flipped the power back off.  “You won’t be needing this today.”  He replaced the recorder on the desk.