Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [97]
Lin took a moment to shift to this new topic before responding. “The CIA’s report was correct in that the zero-sum approach to geopolitical challenges may be passé. While oil is our top priority now, these climate issues are chronic and can’t be solved in a unilateral manner. I know this in my heart, but how do we sell our Politburo on collaboration? Some of them still don’t believe climate-change is a problem. The rest of them, well, the potential benefits of working with the Americans are the last thing on their minds.” Lin breathed deeply, then clapped his hands together, sweeping aside the endless complications of that question for the moment.
“The three questions we need to address today, Peng, are as follows: First, assuming the CIA report accurately represents the situation, is collaboration the most effective pathway to an acceptable solution? Second, if so, what would a collaborative effort with the United States look like? Third, what could each country do to help the other sell such a collaborative paradigm to their respective constituencies?”
Wang nodded as they approached the Main Lodge for their meeting. Lin fell silent again as he tried to visualize what a partnership with the United States would look like, especially in the event of a war of attrition with the Saudi regime. The alternative, he suddenly realized, was not something he wished to contemplate.
35
Geneva, Switzerland
30 September 2017
What could he be thinking? Prince Khalid ibn Saud thought as he paced the balcony of his luxuriously appointed chalet. The beautiful view of Lake Geneva failed to quell his outrage at the treachery of Mustafa’s latest broadcast. He will bring our people to their ultimate destruction … and, perhaps, everyone else with him.
His life had changed the moment his private plane touched down at Geneva International Airport. He and his family stepped off not as honored guests, but rather refugees. Shame, guilt, rage, betrayal, and grief for lost friends and family churned in his stomach, competing with an overwhelming feeling of loss for his country and its role as a beacon of stability and moderation in the turbulent Middle East.
He jumped at the sound of a knock on the balcony doors. His aide-de-camp said, “Your staff is assembled for the meeting you requested, Prince Khalid.” Khalid nodded and walked into the adjacent conference room where his three top advisors awaited.
“I’m sure you have all heard Mustafa’s broadcast,” he said angrily, “and I don’t think I need to tell you of the danger we are in. We are a threat to Mustafa’s regime, and his assassins will be looking for us, of that you may be sure.”
Khalid could see the fear in their eyes as he continued. “They may come at us in a number of ways. Most likely they will make our deaths look like an accident; that is, of course, if they don’t want to make an example of me—in which case they would have me or anyone connected with me die slowly as a warning to anyone else they deem a traitor.”
“Prince Khalid,” said his chief financial advisor, “your assets are well protected in Swiss and offshore accounts, and they are of sufficient size to build an entire army of mercenaries.”
“Thank you, my friend,” Khalid replied. “That is exactly what I intend to do. We are well connected in international power circles and have access to the mercenary forces and military hardware we need. I am more concerned, at the moment, with our current security arrangements. We must assume Mustafa will come after us immediately.”
“We are preparing for such an attack, Your Highness,” replied his security advisor. “We have well over a dozen security guards with extensive military training here at the chalet who could fend off anything Mustafa threw at us, and I have initiated efforts to quadruple this force. We think you and your family are safe