Merry Christmas, Alex Cross

CHAPTER 91

“We no longer live in Fahiq,” Hala said. “We sold that house years ago, long before we came to this-”

“There was a transfer of property,” Mahoney agreed. “But it was a gift, not a sale, to Gabir Salmann, who I believe is your uncle, the older brother of your mother, Shada?”

Something shifted in Hala. The coolness was gone. She studied the FBI agent the way a hawk might and made no reply.

“It’s right here in the Saudi records the embassy was good enough to send over by courier,” he said. “You want to see?”

No answer.

“Despite what you hear, Doctor, the Saudi royal family are, on the whole, keen allies of the United States,” Mahoney went on. “Why? They might have all the oil, but we have all the weapons and God only knows how many times the number of soldiers. In any case, the Saudi royals find it most embarrassing when one of their nationals goes off the reservation and starts killing some of the country’s best customers and friends.”

He paused and looked at me, almost cheery. “Very cooperative, the Saudis.” Mahoney held up his hand, set it down, looked back at Hala. “Not a lot of political freedom back home, is there?”

Hala said nothing.

“Not a lot of wiggle room in the judicial system in Saudi, right? Sharia law? Secret police?”

Mahoney leaned forward, began talking louder: “No constitutional guarantees of civil rights and humane treatment. What the Saudi royals want from their people, the Saudi royals get. Am I right, Dr. Al Dossari?”

“So what?” Hala snapped. “I am not in my homeland, and I think there is zero chance that your government extradites me.”

“I agree you are not in your homeland, nor are you likely to be any time soon,” Mahoney replied. He paused, glanced at me, then said to her, “But your children are there.”

I immediately saw a change in her breathing pattern: her respirations became shallow, more rapid. She straightened in her chair.

“What are their names?” Mahoney asked. “Oh, here it is: Fahd, ten, and Aamina, seven. Good-looking kids.” He smiled at her. “The last time you spoke to them was when?”

Hala said nothing.

“Got to be ten, eleven months.” Mahoney let that hang as he started typing again. “You use Skype, Dr. Al Dossari?”

“No.”

“Amazing thing,” he said, hitting Return. “You can look right into a compound on the other side of the world.”

He slid the computer to his left, where all of us could see it.

Hala took one look and lunged at Mahoney. The chains caught her, but she strained hard against them, and she spit at him before hissing, “Allah will see you in hell for this. And my lawyers will see you in court.”