The Sum of All Fears.pdf - Delta Force

shade from a canopy, as Ryan was conducted to his Official.
'Welcome to my country, Dr Ryan.' Prince Ali bin Sheik extended a firm hand to
Jack.
'Thank you, Your Highness.'
'Would you follow me?'
'Gladly, sir.' Before I melt.
Ali led Jack and the DCM inside, where they parted ways. The building was a
palace – Riyadh had quite a few palaces, since there were so many royal princes
– but Ryan thought 'working palace' might have been a more accurate term. It was
smaller than the British counterparts Ryan had visited, and cleaner, Jack saw,
somewhat to his surprise. Probably because of the cleaner and dryer air of the
region, which contrasted to the damp, sooty atmosphere of London. It was also
air-conditioned. The inside temperature could not have been far above
eighty-five, which somehow seemed comfortable to Ryan. The Prince was dressed in
flowing robes with a headdress held atop his head by a pair of circular – whats?
Ryan wondered. He ought to have gotten briefed on that, Jack thought too late.
Alden was supposed to have done this anyway. Charlie knew this area far better
than he did, and – but Charlie Alden was dead, and Jack was carrying the ball.
Ali bin Sheik was referred to at State and CIA as a Prince-Without-Portfolio.
Taller, thinner, and younger than Ryan, he advised the King of Saudi Arabia on
foreign affairs and intelligence matters. Probably the Saudi intelligence
service – British-trained – reported to him, but that was not as clear as it
should have been, doubtless another legacy of the Brits, who took their secrecy
far more seriously than Americans. Though the file on Ali was a thick one, it
mainly dealt with his background. Educated at Cambridge, he'd become an Army
officer, and continued his professional studies at Leavenworth and Carlyle
Barracks in the United States. At Carlyle he'd been the youngest man in his
class, a colonel at 27 – to be a royal prince was career-enhancing – and
finished third in a group whose top ten graduates had each gone on to command a
division or equivalent post. The Army General who'd briefed Ryan on Ali
remembered his classmate fondly as a young man of no mean intellectual gifts and
superb command potential. Ali had played a major role in persuading the King to
accept American aid during the Iraqi war. He was regarded as a serious player
quick to make decisions and quicker still to express displeasure at having his
time wasted, despite his courtly manners.
The Prince's office was easily identified by the two officers at the double
doors. A third man opened them, bowing to both as they passed.
'I've heard much about you,' Ali said casually.
'All good, I trust,' Ryan replied, trying to be at ease.
Ali turned with an impish smile. 'We have some mutual friends in Britain, Sir
John. Do you keep current with your small-arms skills?'
'I really don't have the time, sir.'
Ali waved Jack to a chair. 'For some things, one should make time.'
Both sat, and things became formal. A servant appeared with a silver tray, and
poured coffee for both men before withdrawing.
'I sincerely regret the news on Dr Alden. For so fine a man to be brought down
so foolishly . . . May God have mercy on his soul. At the same time, I have