The Aisha Prophecy by John R. Maxim

posted on the web.’”
    Haskell frowned. He said, “So this kid knows computers.”
    “Not surprising,” Leland told him. “Many thousands of them do. That’s how most of them have learned that there is another world and other more progressive schools of Islam. It’s also how they’ve learned about the Nasreens. It’s how they apply to be spirited out. It’s how the arrangements are made.”
    “By e-mail?” asked Haskell. “Can’t the Saudis read their e-mail?”
    Leland shook his head. He said, “Needle in a haystack. Besides, they use proxy servers, high speed multiple servers and such e-mails are encrypted in transit.”
    “Wait a minute,” said Haskell. He turned to the banker. “You told me that the prince didn’t have one at home.”
    “A computer? He doesn’t. Just the one on his desk at Saudi Charities.”
    “Then where would the daughter learn to use a computer?”
    “In school and… oh, dear.” The banker seemed stricken. “It’s his daughter who taught him how to use it in the first place. He would often bring Rasha to his office in Riyadh. He had her do all of his clerical work. She might know about those off-shore accounts.”
    Haskell closed his eyes. “Go find out.”
    The banker hurried down the shore to the Saudi. The Saudi stood rocking, his arms tightly folded. His whimpering had turned into wailing. Haskell watched as the banker tried to get him to speak. The Saudi managed a few fragmented sentences. Haskell saw the banker seize the Saudi by his shoulders and shake him to get him to spill it all out. Haskell knew that the problem must be serious indeed. One doesn’t put one’s hands on a Saudi prince even when no other Saudi is present.
    The banker returned. His expression had paled. He said to Haskell, “Mr. Leland’s quite right. She did copy those files to a disk before she left. Her father did get one of those emails days later. He was afraid to tell us at the time.”
    “His kid has what we have been trying to get?”
    “All of it. The whole list of accounts. It must have been the daughter who found it in the first place. I’d always wondered how the prince with his… limited abilities… was able to get access to such files.”
    Haskell made a fist. He pounded his palm. He asked Leland, “What will she do with it?”
    “Nothing. I’ve told you. If he lets her go quietly.”
    “But as you’ve heard,” said the banker, “she was still being hunted. And so – here’s the worst part – she got back in again. She went back in only this morning.”
    “Back in to Saudi Charities? From where?”
    “She got in remotely from wherever she is now. Remember, she’d have to have found all the passwords in order to get at them in the first place. Her father never changed them, not that he’d have known how. So now she’s changed those passwords. No one else can get in. Those accounts are effectively frozen.”
    Haskell blinked. “No one else. You mean no one else but her?”
    “As of this morning. It would seem so.”
    “You’re telling me that this kid, this fifteen-year-old kid, can now help herself to ten billion dollars?”
    “Very possibly, I’m afraid. As we speak.”
    Leland said, “But she won’t. I can almost guarantee it. The Nasreens would not allow it. They don’t steal.”
    “Not even from thieves?”
    “They’re funded by donations, but not of this sort. They don’t want to be seen as extortionists.”
    Haskell rubbed his chin. “You say it’s strictly insurance?”
    “Insurance against honor killings and such. It’s also meant to protect any family or friends who may have abetted their departure.”
    “So that money is safe? Those accounts are intact?”
    “I’m not saying they wouldn’t be tempted,” said Leland. “Many of the Nasreens are Saudi women themselves. If they’ve seen the stashes of these larcenous princes and realize that they’re stolen from legitimate charities… in their place, I’d want to see justice