Day of Wrath

An Egyptian by birth, Lahoud had been handpicked to head the Persian Gulf Environmental Trust by Ibrahim himself — as had all the trust’s personnel. It was a separate company, privately held by Ibrahim. Its public charter proclaimed a determination to counter the rampant pollution in the Gulf by funneling a fixed percentage of Caraco’s corporate profits into worthy environmental efforts.

“You found your trip a pleasant one, Mr. Lahoud?” Ibrahim asked, signaling Hashemi for coffee.

Lahoud nodded. “Both pleasant and speedy — thanks to your generous assistance, Highness.”

A Caraco helicopter had been waiting at Taif when Lahoud’s plane landed — bringing him directly to the estate.

“And your family? They prosper?” the prince continued.

“They do, by the grace of God,” Lahoud answered.

Ibrahim let the conversation drift through the pleasantries that always preceded any meeting in the Middle East for several more minutes before turning to more serious matters. “I assume the trust has been approached to fund another special endeavor, Mr. Lahoud?”

“Indeed, Highness.” The Egyptian handed him a slim manila folder. “A most worthy venture in my judgment.”

Ibrahim flipped it open. A single cover sheet moved straight to the heart of the matter.

Project Summary The Radical Islamic Front has learned that Anson P. Carleton, the American Undersecretary of State for Arab Affairs, will visit Riyadh from June 6 to June 8. Carleton’s mission is to press the Saudi government for a renewed rapprochement with the State of Israel.

Among other incentives, he intends to offer an extensive military aid package conditioned only on an agreement by Saudi ministers to meet directly and covertly with representatives of Israel — either in Washington itself or in an undisclosed neutral capital.

The Front has developed a plan to assassinate Carleton as soon as he arrives on Saudi soil. They seek the funds necessary to carry out this action.

Ibrahim turned to the detailed proposal attached to the cover sheet.

He studied it intently in silence and then nodded. The Radical Islamic Front was a small group — a breakaway faction of the much larger and more loosely organized Hizballah. They were known to have good intelligence sources, and it looked as though they’d scored quite a coup this time.

The Front’s plan was a clever one — simple, direct, and with only a minimal chance of detection by the Saudi security services.

And he agreed wholeheartedly with their choice of target.

He’d followed this American’s activities closely now for a number of months. Carleton had apparently dedicated himself to restarting the perennially stalled Middle East peace process once again.

The thought of instigating Carleton’s assassination intrigued Ibrahim.

The man was one of the U.S. State Department’s rising stars, and his official visit would naturally be made under tight security. Killing such a high-ranking diplomat would not only embarrass the Americans and the Saudi security services, it would also make them afraid — unsure of where the next terrorist blow would land. It was also guaranteed to paralyze American policy-making in the region for weeks or months — at least until a new undersecretary was appointed to fill the dead man’s shoes.

All of which would dovetail rather nicely with his own larger plans, Ibrahim decided.

He smiled thinly, imagining again the horror that environmental scientists with Persian Gulf Trust grants would feel if they ever learned they shared funding with some of the world’s most ruthless terrorist organizations. Not that they ever would. He had spent most of a lifetime living and working in two very separate worlds — one the world of international business and finance, and the other the armed struggle against Israel and its allies in the West.

Only a handful of men still living — all of them his most trusted servants knew that Prince Ibrahim al Saud, the chairman of Caraco, was also the hidden financier of international terrorism. For year after year, he had funneled money into carefully selected terrorist operations — always laundering his contributions through a labyrinthine maze of front organizations and other cutouts. And, as other sources of funding for terrorism had dried up, the prince had gathered more and more of the reins of power into his own carefully concealed hands. His word was fast becoming law for terrorist groups as diverse as Hizballah, Hammas, ‘the Radical Islamic Front, Japan’s Red Army, and Colombian’s M19 guerrillas.

Month in and month out, year in and year out, the cycle continued.

Proposals for major terror actions percolated their way upward through his networks until they reached his desk. And then orders issuing the necessary funds filtered back down to the men carrying the guns or bombs. Sometimes Ibrahim felt as though he had been fighting his covert war with America, Europe, and Israel forever — that the long, weary struggle stretched from the moment of his birth and would last until his death.

But he knew that was not so.