Wrath & Righteousnes Episodes 01 to 05 Read Free Page A

facial hair an indication of his manhood or his devotion to Allah, so he kept his face clean, his beard never more than three or four days old.
    One of the wealthiest men in the world, Prince al-Rahman was the second oldest son to King Faysal bin Saud Aziz, monarch of the House of Saud, grandson of King Saud Aziz, the first king of modern-day Saudi Arabia. As a royal prince in the kingdom that held the largest oil reserves in the world, he and his family were unbelievably wealthy. There was no whim or desire, no pleasure or need that the prince could ask for and not have it given to him; and along with his wealth, the royal prince held the reins to great power, for the world economy revolved around oil and the politics of oil revolved around the Saudi Arabia peninsula.
    Yet despite all his power and wealth, the prince was unsatisfied and always wanted more. It was as if he had an insatiable hunger, an unquenchable thirst. Like a starving man in the desert who was forced to eat sand, no matter how much he ate it did not satiate what he craved.
    And now, what he had been given was going to be taken from him! His idiot father was going to pack up the kingdom and give it away. In the name of democracy, a completely foreign concept in this part of the world, his idiot father, King Faysal bin Saud Aziz, was going to destroy everything his ancestors had worked for in almost 300 years. He was going to give up the kingdom and institute a democratic regime.
    All of it gone, in one generation, destroyed! Like a wisp of black smoke, his family’s wealth would disappear.
    He had to put a stop to it!
    But how? What to do? The prince was completely distraught.
    Then he thought of his older brother, the Crown Prince, and his blood boiled even more. Could he trust him? Would he support him? He really didn’t know.
    He cursed violently as the bitter rage grew inside him, a hot, burning furnace of equal hate for his father and lust for what he might lose. If it were not for his father . . . if al-Rahman had played his cards right he might have been king one day.
    But his father wouldn’t let him.
    He was going to give the kingdom away!
    The prince pushed his hands through the sand as he sipped at his beer. He was frustrated and angry, more so than he had ever felt in his life. The day before, as he was preparing to leave for France, the prince had fought with his father, a bitter argument that had turned so angry three of the king’s bodyguards had been forced to step between the two men. And though the prince had argued and pleaded until he was blue in the face, his father hadn’t listened, but instead cut him off.
    “Leave me, Abdullah!” his father had screamed in a rage. “Leave me right now and never speak of this again! I do not have to justify my decision to you. Now go and forget it. I will not discuss it again!”
    And so it was that al-Rahman found himself on the beach, fuming, his dark heart growing cold, his mind constantly racing, trying to develop a plan. His father was a fool. No, he was worse than that, he was selfish and stupid, a conceited old man! He cared not a whit for his children! He was a slithering fool, a spider in the corner, a poisonous snake in the grass.
    The sun moved toward the sea as al-Rahman raged, leaving a blood-red horizon above the hazy waterline where the prince sipped his beer and kicked at the warm sand.
    Then he looked up and saw a withered old man. Al-Rahman had not heard him approach, and he stared up in surprise. Cursing angrily, he pushed himself to his feet. He looked around for his bodyguards, but they were nowhere in sight. The old man stared at him and grinned. “How are you Prince al-Rahman?” he asked in heavily accented English. His voice was weak and raspy, and he smelled of cigar smoke and dry breath.
    The prince glared with contempt. “Who are you?” he demanded in a sour tone.
    The man smiled weakly. He looked old and decrepit; fine white hair and large teeth were his