Tayyib blinked, his business in America already a distant memory. He dropped to a knee. His bad one. He lowered his head and said, "Prince Muhammad, I am sorry, but I have some terrible news."

Rashid exhaled through his nostrils and nodded for the man to continue.

"On my way here from the airport I received a call from my office." Tayyib lifted his head and glanced up at the prince. "There was an explosion in Riyadh just a short while ago."

"Where?" Rashid asked in a guarded tone.

"In front of the headquarters of Abdullah Telecommunications."

"Abdullah Telecommunications," Rashid said absolutely shocked. "What kind of explosion?"

"A suicide bomber."

"A suicide bomber," repeated a confused Rashid. The Kingdom was very good at exporting suicide bombers. Occasionally one would strike within the Kingdom itself, but it was always against Western targets, usually the Americans. "Was anyone killed?"

"I'm afraid so." Tayyib looked down. "Saeed Ahmed Abdullah."

Upon hearing the name of his childhood friend, Rashid was speechless. After a moment he regained his composure and asked, "How did this happen?"

"Witnesses say that Saeed was leaving noontime prayer and was walking across the street to his office. The man was waiting for him. He came up and hugged Saeed and then blew himself up."

Rashid was dumbstruck. "Who was the bomber?"

"We don't know yet."

"Why would a suicide bomber want to kill Saeed?"

Tayyib had been wrestling with this same question.

The prince stood and gathered his robes, one folded over each arm. "Rise," he said as he stepped down from the platform. His mind had stumbled upon a horrible possibility. "And what of our business in America?"

Tayyib stood and said, "I have failed you, my prince." He had thought about his answer on the long flight. The truth was he didn't know what had gone wrong, but that in and of itself was proof of failure. "The men I sent to take care of the job never returned."

"What happened to them?"

"I do not know."

"So Mitch Rapp is still alive." It was a statement not a question.

"I think so."

"And my good friend Saeed has just been killed." Rashid walked across the marble floor from one Persian rug to the next until he was looking out a small window. He could think of no reason why a Muslim would kill Saeed. Rapp on the other hand had plenty of motives. Rashid remembered he had warned his old friend to keep his mouth shut. The Americans had found out about the bounty, and Rapp was already in Saudi Arabia killing those responsible for his wife's death.

"I know what you are thinking, my prince, but I do not see how Rapp could have left America and put this together so quickly. Who would he find to be a suicide bomber?"

"Maybe he blew himself up?" Rashid asked in a hopeful tone.

Tayyib thought about that for a moment and then announced, "I have studied Rapp. The man would never commit suicide unless he had to. He would have simply shot Saeed."

"Then tell me why a fellow Muslim would want to kill Saeed?"

"Maybe it wasn't a Muslim."

Rashid frowned. "There is no such thing as a non-Muslim suicide bomber. Do you see any Jewish suicide bombers? Even the Irish during their war with the British never resorted to suicide bombings. The Japanese are the only other culture to employ the tactic in modern history, and I doubt the Japanese killed Saeed."

"I'll grant that the timing looks bad, but I don't see how Rapp could have left America on Sunday and orchestrated something like this. I myself left Sunday evening and I arrived only an hour ago."

"What about Abel?"

Tayyib considered the possibility. "We still can't find him. As of Saturday I know he had not returned Saeed's money, but again where is Abel going to find a suicide bomber?"

"Then what happened?"

"I am reluctant to guess with so little information."

Rashid turned away from the window and said, "Guess anyway." It was a command.

Tayyib stood off to the side and tried to come up with anything that was plausible. "Saeed has many militant ties. It is possible that a rival to one of these groups decided to kill him."

Rashid scoffed at the idea. "You don't find it at all coincidental that Saeed paid twenty million dollars to have Mitch Rapp killed? The killers miss him and end up killing his wife, and now Saeed is dead. You don't find that odd?"

"Of course I do, but with all respect, Prince Muhammad, men like Rapp don't blow themselves up."

Rashid thought about that for a second. He had a point, but things had changed. "His wife was killed. Who knows what he is capable of now?"

Before Tayyib could respond his phone rang. Tayyib froze. The prince hated phones, and had a steadfast rule that when in his presence they were to be turned off. He struggled to get it out of his pocket and silence the ringer. His large hands fumbled with the tiny buttons. The screen told him it was his office. Tayyib hesitated. The call could be important. He looked at Rashid, held up the phone and said, "I'm sorry. This is my number two. He might have more information about the explosion."

Rashid nodded reluctantly.

Tayyib answered the phone and listened intently. After about thirty seconds he said, "Are you sure?" He listened to the man for a little bit longer and said, "Call me if you learn anything more." Tayyib shut the phone and exhaled.

"What?" Rashid asked impatiently.

"Several of Saeed's sons were there. They had accompanied him to prayer and they were walking back to the office together when it happened. After they'd overcome the initial shock of the bombing they began cursing the body of the suicide bomber. They were spitting on it and kicking it when one of them suddenly realized he recognized the bomber."

"Who was it?"

"It was their brother Waheed."

"Waheed?" Rashid said in utter disbelief. "That cannot be. He is dead."

"He is now," Tayyib said, not trying to be funny.

"Rapp killed him six months ago," the prince insisted.

"Apparently not." Tayyib folded his arms and thinking aloud said, "The body was never returned."

"Why would Waheed kill his own father?"

"He may not have." Tayyib knew something the prince didn't.

"You just said he did," Rashid snapped.

"He may not have known what was happening. There is a security tape. It shows Waheed being led by another man. The two stop in front of the office building and wait there for several minutes. Then as Saeed starts to cross the street from the mosque to go back to the office the man leaves Waheed's side and walks away. He looks over his shoulder once and then looks down at something in his hand. We think it was a remote of some sort. A second before the explosion the man raises his hand to the camera like this." Tayyib held up his middle finger and made the gesture toward the wall, away from Rashid. "Then there is an explosion, and Saeed is blown in half."

"Can they tell who the man on the tape is?"

"They are going to try, but it will be difficult. The man was wearing a kaffiyeh and sunglasses."

Rashid looked back out the window, his mind running down the list of possibilities. "That gesture is very American."

Tayyib nodded. "The Americans and the French."

"What is your assessment now?" the prince asked.

"Six months ago, Mitch Rapp captured Waheed Ahmed Abdullah in a mountain village on the Pakistani-Afghan border. Shortly after that the U.S. government informed us that Waheed was dead. Now Waheed shows up back from the dead and ends up blowing his own father to pieces." Tayyib shook his head.

"Who was the man in the surveillance video?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen it."

Rashid scoffed. "You know who it was."

Tayyib nodded. "It was more than likely Mitch Rapp. I don't know how he did it, but it was probably him."