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before he got out of the Hummer.
    There would be no targets for long-range rifle shots between open hangar doors.
    He walked up the steps, puffing slightly as he neared the top.
    The hangar doors would reopen only when the plane was ready to take off.
    The meeting would be held on the plane, while it was on the ground. The meeting would last for one hour. The prince would control the meeting.
    He was used to controlling situations.
    That was about to end.

CHAPTER

6
    T HERE WERE TWO GUARDS at the bottom of the stairs leading to the jet. The rest of the security was in the plane, surrounding what would be the main target for any attack. The fuselage door was closed, locked. It was like a vault. A very expensive vault. But as with all vaults, there were weaknesses.
    The prince sat at the center of the table in the main part of the cabin. The interior was entirely of his own design. The plane consisted of nearly eight thousand square feet of marble and exotic woods, oriental rugs, and exquisite paintings and sculptures by long-dead, museum-quality artists that he could admire at forty-one thousand feet and five hundred miles an hour. Talal was a man who spent his money and thereby enjoyed his wealth.
    He gazed around the table. There were two visitors here. One was Russian, the other Palestinian. An unlikely partnership, but it intrigued the prince.
    They had promised that for the right price they could accomplish something that virtually everyone, the prince included, would have thought impossible.
    The prince cleared his throat. “You’re sure you can do this?” His tone was full of incredulity.
    The Russian, a big man with a full beard and a hairless head that gave him an unbalanced, bottom-heavy appearance, nodded slowly but firmly.
    The prince said, “I am curious as to how this is possible, because I have been told that it is absolutely pointless even to try.”
    “The strongest chain is defeated by its weakest link.” This camefrom the Palestinian. He was a small man, but with a fuller beard than the Russian. They were like a tugboat and a battleship, but it was clear that the small man was the leader of the partnership.
    “And what is the weakest link?”
    “One person. But that person is placed next to the one you want. We own that person.”
    “I cannot see how that is possible,” said the prince.
    “It is not just possible. It is fact.”
    “But even so, access to weapons?”
    “The person’s job will allow access to the necessary weapon.”
    “And how do you own such a person?”
    “That detail is not important.”
    “It is important to me. This person must be willing to die, then. There is no other way.”
    The Palestinian nodded. “That condition is met.”
    “Why? Westerners do not do that.”
    “I did not say that the person is a westerner.”
    “A plant?”
    “Decades in the making.”
    “Why?”
    “Why do any of us do anything? We believe in certain things. And we must take steps to realize those beliefs.”
    The prince sat back. He looked intrigued.
    The Palestinian said, “The plans are in place. But as you know, significant funds are required for something like this. Much of it in the aftermath. Our person is secure, for now. But that could change soon. There are eyes and ears everywhere. The longer we wait, the greater the chances of the mission failing before it has been given a chance to succeed.”
    The prince ran his fingers over the carved wood of the table as he glanced out the window. The windows were extra large, because he enjoyed the views from his high perch.
    The subsonic round hit him squarely in the forehead, exploding his brain. He fell back against his leather seat and then slowly slid to the floor. Gray matter, blood, bone, and tissue covered the plane’s once beautiful interior.
    The Russian leapt up but had no weapon. It had been confiscated at the door. The Palestinian just sat there, paralyzed.
    The guards reacted. One pointed to the shattered plane window.