The Einstein Papers (36 page)

A fleet of limousines led by a pair of Saudi military Humvees sporting flashing lights drove directly into the hangar and pulled alongside Air Force One. Ali Al-Sheik climbed from the backseat of the middle limousine and stood waiting as Robert Lakeland descended the stairs.

Al-Sheik was of medium height by western standards, five feet eleven inches tall, and his weight had remained a constant 180 pounds since age twenty. Educated at the University of Virginia, with a master’s degree from Georgetown University, Ali Al-Sheik had been the chief advisor for King Abdullah since his reign began a year ago. Al-Sheik had jet-black hair and a thin mustache. It was his genuine smile and his warm and friendly manner that attracted people, however.

Lakeland reached the floor of the hangar and walked toward Al-Sheik with his hand extended. After shaking hands, the two men climbed into the rear of Al-Sheik’s limousine and made themselves comfortable. As the procession pulled from the hangar Al-Sheik reached into an ice chest built into the door of the vehicle.

“I seem to remember you favor Dr. Pepper in a bottle, Bob,” Al-Sheik said as he removed the cold soft drink and handed it to Lakeland.

“Are you still drinking that ginger ale you have shipped in from South Carolina?”

“Best stuff under the sun,” Al-Sheik said. In a twist of fate that occurs in diplomacy, Lakeland and Al-Sheik were friends from their student days at the University of Virginia. They were familiar enough to be direct with one another. As the limousine pulled onto the main highway leading from the airport and accelerated, Al-Sheik began the discussion.

“It appears the United States is not interested in diplomacy, otherwise I would be entertaining the Secretary of State and not you, my friend.”

“I’m afraid you’ve summed up the situation with your usual speed, Ali,” Lakeland said quietly.

“Then you come to threaten us with force.”

“If necessary,” Lakeland admitted.

The limousine slowed at an intersection, then followed the Humvees as they sped west toward the king’s mansion. Lakeland looked out the window at the miles of sandy wasteland broken by the black ribbon of asphalt leading to the mansion.

“As advisor to the king I should warn you he does not enjoy being threatened,” Al-Sheik said. “On a personal note, as your friend, I should tell you that you will have greater success if you explain the situation calmly and clearly. King Abdullah is quite a bit smarter than your intelligence agencies report.”

Rising from the desert in the distance Lakeland saw the vast walled grounds of King Abdullah’s palace. Rising above the walls Lakeland could see the towers that stood at the four corners of the mansion, as well as the second floor of the palace, which faced the approaching limousine.

“What do you mean?” Lakeland asked.

“We receive a great many intelligence briefings from the major world powers. The United States intelligence community seems to think Abdullah is a benevolent but not very wise leader.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Lakeland lied. In fact, what Al-Sheik had just said was the general assessment of Abdullah.

“Don’t make that mistake,” Al-Sheik cautioned Lakeland.

Lakeland stared at his friend and silently nodded.

The limousine was pulling up to the massive gate. The Humvees stationed themselves at each side of the gate like bookends. Once the limousine carrying Lakeland and Al-Sheik pulled to a stop at the gate, several dogs brought from inside the guard post sniffed the exterior and undercarriage of the limousine. Once the limousine was approved for entry into the palace the doors swung open. As they drove down the long cobblestone driveway Lakeland stared out the window at the palace grounds.

The rich landscaping surrounding the palace was a visible legacy of the king’s attempt to defy the desert sands that comprised most of his kingdom. As Lakeland glanced out the window, a pair of peacocks strutted across the road to join a flock of nearly thirty birds that were clustered around an artificial pond. Perfectly positioned palm trees, set exactly eight feet apart and six feet back from the cobblestones, lined the roadway. In the half-dozen feet between the cobblestones and the start of the palm trees, vast color-coordinated flower gardens replicated the colors of the rainbow ending in a field of deep-blue violets nearest the palace.

The limousine pulled to a stop in front of the main section of the mansion. Bought from a noble French family that had fallen on hard times, each brick of the massive sixteenth-century structure had been painstakingly disassembled and hand-numbered by a Belgian construction crew. Transported by a Boeing 747 cargo plane, the bricks were carefully reassembled around a modern steel frame, incorporating state-of-the-art heating, cooling, plumbing, and security systems. The site King Abdullah had selected for his palace was atop a small bluff overlooking the lights of Riyadh.

As soon as the door to the limousine was opened, Lakeland could feel the heat from the desert. The full effects of the heat were more obvious as Lakeland stepped from the limousine. Deep breathing was difficult and Lakeland’s eye membranes dried quickly, making him feel as if he had sand in his eyes.

Lakeland and Al-Sheik followed a butler up a red carpet to the main door, a massive slab of antique wood dating back to the castle’s original construction. Once the door swung silently open, they were led into a stone-floored foyer that ended in steps leading down to the main living areas. To the left was a massive carved-wood staircase that curved and rose into the second level, where eighteen bedrooms were arranged along a long hallway. Lakelands eyes slowly scanned the opulence.

“I thought we would talk in my study,” a voice broke the silence.

Lakeland glanced to the right, where King Abdullah stood framed in a doorway. Abdullah was a large man weighing nearly 270 pounds. His chest and shoulders were massive, and though he had a slight paunch he appeared reasonably fit.

Dressed in Italian trousers and silk shirt, with a pair of butter-soft Swiss-made Bally loafers on his feet, Abdullah could have blended in at a fashionable New York discotheque if not for the red-and-white checkered headdress he wore over his hair.

Lakeland followed Al-Sheik to where the king was standing. Abdullah smiled, then extended his hand toward Lakeland. His grip was cool and firm, Lakeland noted as they shook.

Lakeland detected a slight British accent when Abdullah said, “Come on inside, please.”

Abdullah walked behind an antique dark mahogany desk, then motioned for his guests to be seated. After secretly pushing a button beneath his desk, he waited until a servant appeared. The walls of the study were lined with stout wooden bookcases filled with the classics on the higher shelves and popular books and novels in several languages on the lower shelves.

“We will need refreshments,” he said quietly.

The servant scurried off toward the kitchen as Abdullah peered over at Lakeland. “Ali tells me you and he attended university together.”

“Yes,” Lakeland said. “It was years ago but it seems like it was only yesterday.”

The servant reentered the study carrying a tray of finger sandwiches and two pots, the one containing hot tea, the other strong Arabian coffee. He set them down noiselessly, then stood off to the side.

“We can serve ourselves,” the king said to the servant, who bowed at the waist and walked from the study, closing the door behind him. Abdullah poured a cup of the tea then added a measure of hot milk and a single lump of sugar. Carefully stirring the mixture, he set the spoon to the side and took a sip. Smiling at the taste, he addressed Lakeland.

“My ambassador to the United States seems to feel that a visit by the president’s National Security Advisor can only mean that a threat wishes to be relayed. Is that the case, Mr. Lakeland?”

Lakeland returned the smile. “What would you have us do, King Abdullah?”

“For starters you might tell me about the Chinese and what involvement they have in all this,” Abdullah said as he lifted one of the trays of finger sandwiches and offered them to his guests.

Lakeland felt like he had been hit between the legs with a garden rake. He struggled to regain composure. “I’m not sure what you mean, King Abdullah.”

“I’m not one for the machinations of diplomacy, so let me simply ask you, Mr. Lakeland. Were the Chinese involved in the attack on our oil reserves or not?”

Lakeland sat in stunned silence while the two men stared at him.

“Do you need to make a telephone call?” Al-Sheik asked after thirty seconds had passed.

Lakeland shifted, as if coming out of a trance. “No, I just went over it in my head. I feel I should answer this truthfully. Yes, King Abdullah, we do believe the Chinese government is involved in the attack on your oil fields.”

“And the Israelis?” Abdullah asked.

“Is your country in any way involved in the bombings in Israel?” Lakeland asked Abdullah.

“Of course not.”

“Since you know that to be true beyond doubt then it stands to reason the bombings also must be the work of the Chinese,” Lakeland said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Can you tell me why the Chinese have seen fit to poison our oil and incite my country to the brink of war?”

“We believe we know the answer, King Abdullah, but we cannot disclose that information at this time.”

Abdullah leaned back in his chair and stroked the hair on his chin. He slowly began to rock in his chair. Lakeland watched silently as several minutes passed.

“I will order my forces to stand down if you get the Israelis to do the same,” King Abdullah said. “But on one condition.”

“And the condition?” Lakeland asked.

“That you allow my country one act of retaliation against China.”

“And what will that be?” Lakeland asked.

“I will determine that later,” King Abdullah said.

To agree to that I would need to talk to the president,” Lakeland said quietly.

“There is a small office outside the door that my assistant sometimes uses,” Abdullah said. “Please feel free to use the telephone in there. It will allow you a measure of privacy.”

Ten minutes later Lakeland had an agreement between the president and King Abdullah and was back inside the limousine, heading for the airport. He turned to Al-Sheik.

“Thanks for the advice about King Abdullah.”

Al-Sheik nodded.

“Can I ask what led you to suspect the Chinese?”

“You can ask,” Al-Sheik said as the limousine turned off the highway onto the access road to the airport. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

Air Force One had received permission to fly over Jordan, making the flight time to Tel Aviv just over two hours. In the plane bound for Israel, Lakeland thought about his options. The latest intelligence information had just been sent to Lakeland over a secure fax line direct to the plane.

Lakeland could see time was of the essence.

The latest satellite photographs showed the Israel army breaking camp at their staging area near Elat. The images Lakeland viewed were so detailed they showed the tents that had housed the troops being taken down, plumes of exhaust from truck engines being started, even the boxes of supplies being loaded into the rear of the open trucks.

Lakeland was less than thirty minutes from landing when he closed the file containing the photographs and placed the magnifying glass back in the seat pouch. Turning to his side, he motioned to an air force officer.

“I need the communications officer to connect me with the president, ASAP,” he said wearily.

Less than three minutes later the officer returned from the front of the plane. “The president will be on the line in two minutes, sir,” the officer said, pointing to the front of the plane.

Lakeland rose from his seat and walked forward to a small room containing the communications equipment. The officer rapped on the locked door and waited until it was opened from inside. Holding the door open, he motioned for Lakeland to enter.

The communications room was small. The walls were padded to make the room soundproof. The reporters who often flew on Air Force One liked to hang out near the communications room in an effort to obtain information. The room was stacked floor to ceiling with electronic equipment. An air force chief master sergeant pointed to a stool, then handed Lakeland a headset that had a small microphone in front.

After a wait of twenty seconds or so, he whispered to Lakeland, “On in ten seconds.”

A voice that Lakeland recognized as the president’s secretary came over the headset. “Hold, please, for the president.”

And then the voice of President Harper came over the headset as clearly as if they were sitting next to one another.

“What is it, Robert? It must be important.”

“Have you seen the latest satellite photographs over Israel?”

“I was in a meeting with the Joint Chiefs of Staff examining them when I was told you needed to speak to me.”

“I still have 20 minutes of flight time before I reach Israel, plus the time it takes to drive to the prime minister’s office. I’m afraid the Israelis are going to move before I speak to the prime minister.”

The telephone was silent as the president thought.

“I have no choice but to call the prime minister myself,” Harper said.

“I hope it will go as smoothly for you with Israel as it did for me with Saudi Arabia, Mr. President,” Lakeland said.

“Have Air Force One bypass Israel and set a course for home,” the president said. “Even if we can avert this war in the Middle East, we still have China to contend with, and I’ll need you here for that.”

It took the U.S. Navy’s nuclear submarine Montana signaling its presence in the Mediterranean Sea, a flyover of air force fighters from Turkey, and a stern threat from the president to forestall the Israeli attack. Finally, fearing retaliation from the United States, the prime minister and the defense minister agreed to hold off any hostile actions until they met with the Secretary of State, who would arrive in seventy-two hours.

It was an uneasy truce. The distrust between the Arabs and the Jews remained, a legacy far olden than the Chinese attempt to inflame the anger to action; but the threat of an immediate conflagration was defused. Both sides began to slowly withdraw their offensive troops from the borders. Three days later, after the Secretary of State met with the Israeli leaders, the situation was stabilized enough to begin the withdrawal of American forces from the region.