Page 24 of An Eye for an Eye

By the time his meal tray had been removed, Ross knew exactly what was expected of him once they landed in Riyadh. He dozed off for a couple of hours, but woke in time for breakfast and one final reading of the file.

Ross recalled the names that would decide if the long weekend would be a success or failure:

Declan O’Reilly

Sir Bernard Anscombe

Jim Fellows

Hani Khalil

And, most important of all, Avril Dubois, née Jenny Prescott.

Pawns on a chessboard, but would the Queen have to be brought into play?

By the time the plane landed in Riyadh, Ross should have been exhausted but had never felt more alert. He’d once done a training course with a dozen other operatives to see how long they could stay awake under pressure. After forty-nine hours, he’d collapsed, but he had been the last man standing.

When Ross entered the terminal, he was met by a young man who could only have worked for the Foreign Office. The Harris tweed jacket, old school tie and highly polished leather shoes wouldn’t have fooled a rookie detective. The young man handed over the file in exchange for two passports: one Ross pocketed, the other he presented to passport control.

After a short inspection, Mr Declan O’Reilly, the Irish government’s Minister for Marine and Natural Resources, was waved through without being questioned.

A Jaguar and driver were parked outside Arrivals andwhisked Ross off to the Palace Hotel, where he had been booked into the presidential suite.

‘A car and driver will be outside the hotel waiting for you whenever you need them,’ were the parting words of the man from the FCO before he took a taxi back to the embassy. It had quickly become clear that the young man had no idea who he was, or even why he was in Riyadh, and Ross had no intention of enlightening him.

When he walked into the hotel, he went straight to the check-in desk.

‘Good evening Mr O’Reilly,’ said the concierge, ‘welcome to the Palace Hotel.’

Ross looked at the label on his jacket and said, ‘Good evening Mr Fellows.’

CHAPTER 6

ROSS TRIED TO RECALL THErelevant words from the Foreign Office brief.In the Middle East you can’t hope to close a major deal without being represented by an established agent. There are several who have the ear of the Minister, but there is only one you should be interested in, as he’s the one person who can lead you to Avril Dubois. However, tread carefully, as they may no longer be on speaking terms, and if they are, it will have been a wasted journey and you could well be on the next flight home.

Not part of Ross’s plan.

By the time Mr O’Reilly reported to the concierge of the Palace Hotel, Jim Fellows already had everything in place. The gentleman in question – if gentleman was an accurate description – had already been briefed and told that a Mr O’Reilly had booked into the Presidential Suite ($1,000 a night) and was hoping to arrange a meeting with Prince Sharif bin Nayef Al Saud, the Saudi Minister of Petroleum and Mineral Resources. Jim had also informed his contact thatMr O’Reilly seemed ‘fairly green’ when it came to how business was conducted in the Middle East. ‘But then he is Irish,’ Jim had explained.

In the short conversation that followed, Jim told Mr O’Reilly he would be surprised if Khalil hadn’t contacted him before the end of the day.

‘The sooner the better,’ was Ross’s only comment, because if Khalil were to call Dublin, he would quickly discover why the Minister for Marine and Natural Resources wasn’t at his desk. According to the FCO brief, Declan O’Reilly would be spending a quiet weekend in Cork with his mistress (unnamed), but was expected to be back at his desk first thing on Monday morning – midday in Riyadh. Ross accepted that at best he only had a couple of days to carry out his mission (another Foreign Office word). But as they reminded him, in Saudi, Saturday and Sunday are working days.

‘Thank you,’ said Ross. ‘I’ll report back if Khalil contacts me.’

‘Not if,’ said Jim, ‘but when. By the way, the Irish accent is good,’ he added with a nod of respect.

‘It ought to be,’ replied Ross. ‘It’s the only thing about me that’s genuine.’

‘The dining room is on the far side of the lobby, sir. Breakfast is served between seven and ten,’ said the concierge when another guest joined them at the desk.

‘Thank you,’ said Ross, before heading off to the dining room.

How right Jim turned out to be, because Ross hadn’t even ordered his second coffee before a man he recognized from photographs supplied by the FCO was standing in front of him. Ross put down his copy of theWall Street Journal, left open at the page listing the latest oil prices, and looked up.

The man gave him a slight bow before speaking. ‘It’s Declan O’Reilly, if I remember correctly.’

‘Yes,’ said Ross, looking puzzled.