He leaned forward just slightly, as if to be certain they’d hear him well. “We may have been able to interfere with their missile capabilities, but the idea that they plan to disseminate these weapons to their militias to deploy is unconscionable. This tactic will also be nearly impossible to stop once they are in their hands. So it’s time that we end the Iranian nuclear program once and for all.”

Finally, Nir thought. I’ve been waiting to hear those words for years. Sure, we’ll pay a price, but no cost is too high to keep a nuke from going off in Tel Aviv or Haifa or Ashdod.

Geller continued, now leaning back in his chair. “I dispatched Ira to Riyadh to speak with King Salman about using his airspace. Not surprisingly, it was the crown prince who showed up to the meeting. I think that old king makes even the new U.S. president look spry. The crown prince said he was open to discussions, but he would hold them only with me. So I called Ira home.”

Nir saw the ramsad bristle every time Geller used his first name. It was no secret that these two did not like each other, and many believed that if this prime minister lasted more than a year, Ira Katz would be out.

“At the Saudis’ invitation, I had already planned on visiting Neom, their future technology city by the Red Sea. We moved up the date, and the crown prince met me to show me around. Then when we spoke privately, he told me the price for letting us make use of their airspace—a single life.”

That caught Nir’s attention. He thought since they’d been in Neom, which was supposed to become the greatest planned “smart” city in the world, the price would be Israel’s water extraction and purification system or their chip technology or some other Israeli scientific discovery.

He caught Efraim’s eyes. The man’s look was hard with warning. Whatever he was about to hear would be extremely difficult and dangerous.

Geller nodded to the ramsad, who took over. “The target is a member of the royal family, and the information you are about to receive is everything we have on who he is.”

Friedman stood and slid a thin folder to each man. Nir opened his and read the name, but he didn’t recognize it.

The ramsad continued as Nir closed the folder. “His stipulations are, first, that he does not want the man harmed on Saudi soil. In fact, he doesn’t want him even touched on Saudi soil. He will have to be lured away for the hit. Second, he wants to make sure the world knows we eliminated him.”

“What?” asked Bensoussan. “He wants us caught?”

“No. He just wants our fingerprints on it. The crown prince has had enough bad press to last a very long time.”