Blink of an Eye by Ted Dekker

husband. Omar had known Sita would be a problem for Hatam, predicted that her reaction to him would constitute grounds for her death.
    So. His bride was too stupid to get the message.
    â€œShe presented the airport authorities with forged travel documents,” Omar said. “She slipped away on a trip to Jidda, took a flight to Riyadh, and then on to Paris. On her own.”
    His father drilled him with a stare. “She’s in Paris now?”
    â€œNo. She’s in the United States. California, where she attended school for a summer.”
    â€œAnd her father? Salman?”
    â€œFurious. But still blind to our intentions.”
    â€œIf our sources know this much, so will King Abdullah,” Khalid said, turning. “He’ll want to know why.”
    â€œThat’s hardly the point,” Omar said. “ Why is irrelevant. I have just been spit upon by a woman.”
    â€œDo not get distracted from the true crisis. She was your means to the throne and nothing more. Without her, Sheik Al-Asamm will withdraw his support. Without her, there is no throne.” He took a seat behind the monstrous desk. “Where is the sheik?”
    â€œIn the desert. He vows to withdraw if we don’t retrieve her.”
    His father cursed. “Living with the Shia will be like sleeping with the devil. We should kill the lot of them.”
    â€œI agree.”
    But they both knew that without the sheik’s support, the coup would fail.
    â€œThe woman has fled.” Khalid shook his head and closed his eyes. “Of all the insolent . . .” His eyes opened, blazing. “Everything! We thought of every possibility. But this? What kind of daughter has Salman raised? You see, this is why we must overthrow the throne! A royal daughter is asked one thing—to marry a prince—and she runs like a coward! Don’t women know their place any longer?”
    â€œObviously not,” Omar said.
    â€œAnd if the king learns of our plan?”
    â€œHe would never have the proof.”
    â€œIf he even suspected ?”
    Omar paused. “If I were him, I might kill the woman, prevent the marriage.”
    Khalid leaned back in his chair. “If the king killed the sheik’s daughter, the sheik might be furious enough to align himself with me without a marriage.”
    â€œThen kill the woman and blame it on the king,” Omar said, thinking the end would be fitting.
    â€œIt might come to that. But the king would deny it as quickly as we would. And we have no guarantees that the sheik would side with me. I can’t very well ask him, can I?”
    Khalid pushed his chair back and walked to a window that overlooked a pond spotted with a dozen geese. “Bring her back.”
    Omar stood, turned from his father, and ground his molars to squelch a surge of rage. “I will.” He strode toward the door. “I will.”
    He would bring her back. He would drag her back by her hair, bleeding and screaming. Assir and Sa’id were already on a flight to America, two hungry jackals waiting for directions.
    â€œAlive,” his father said. “We need her alive.”
    Shut up, Father.
    â€œOf course.”
    But he wasn’t sure he could restrain himself.

    Hilal’s sharp bones pressed against his skin in a way that would have earned him the nickname Knife or Edge had he grown up in New York City. He was the head of King Abdullah’s personal security and arguably as deadly as he looked.
    Hilal sat to the right of King Abdullah, and Salman faced them both, feeling insignificant despite the fact that he was royalty and Hilal was not. He resented the fact.
    He’d been summoned because of Miriam’s flight. Why the king was so interested in the disappearance of one adopted daughter was beyond him. Unless they knew more than he’d told them, which was simply that she fled after witnessing the drowning of her friend Sita.
    Hilal lifted thin fingers to his