The Crown Prince’s Visit 2
The Saudi Crown Prince’s entourage had taken over the entire hotel, from the twenty-fifth floor all the way to the top floor, the twenty-ninth.
For the record, the luxury hotel brand Five Seasons, which operated in more than sixty countries around the world, was a major shareholder of the Saudi royal family.
As soon as I got the call from Chairman Yoo Jae-ho, I took a taxi straight to the hotel.
The middle-aged driver asked me with easygoing curiosity, “What brings you to a hotel this late?”
“I have an appointment with the prince.”
“Huh? The prince?”
He burst out laughing, probably thinking I was joking.
In the first place, even the idea of princes and princesses in the twenty-first century felt strange. Meeting one of them myself was even stranger.
I sorted through what I needed to say in my head.
If I barged in and immediately tried to sell him a painting, I’d only be treated like a lunatic. If the artist determined a painting’s value, then it was the connoisseur who proved that the painting was truly by that artist.
That was why there were always famous connoisseurs behind famous painters.
But I wasn’t a connoisseur. If I wanted to sell a painting, I first had to earn his trust.
So how was I supposed to gain the trust of a Saudi prince?
One fortunate thing was that I knew a great deal about him. I knew what kind of man he was, and I knew what he would do in the future.
I got out of the taxi and went into the hotel.
After stopping by the restroom in the lobby to check my appearance one last time, I picked up my bag and headed to the front desk.
“I’m here to see Mr. Asher.”
Apparently they had already been notified, because the employee made a quick call somewhere.
“Would you follow me?”
The top floors with the VIP rooms had their own separate elevator so that their traffic wouldn’t overlap with ordinary guests.
The employee swiped a card key and pressed twenty-six.
When we reached the twenty-sixth floor, the elevator doors opened.
Security was already waiting in front.
The moment I stepped out, I had to submit to a search.
I handed over my bag and phone, then underwent a body search before being escorted onward.
A Saudi man in a thawb was waiting in front of the door at the end of the hallway.
“Are you Han Miru?”
“Yes.”
He looked to be in his mid-twenties.
Since he didn’t have a beard, he seemed younger than he was. He was on the shorter side, but his face was handsome, and there was an air of luxury about him from head to toe.
He had the feel of a young nobleman raised delicately on oil money.
In fact, he came from a Saudi aristocratic family. That meant he was probably one of Prince Rashid’s aides.
He sized me up with a wary expression and eyes. It was obvious he didn’t like what he saw.
He probably thought I was some insect trying to worm my way toward the precious prince.
“Meeting His Highness is a great honor. Please show the utmost courtesy you are capable of.”
“Understood.”
* * *
I followed him inside.
The living room was about the size of a sports field, and beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Seoul’s night skyline spread out in full view.
On one side of the room, a lavish carpet had been laid out, and on it a man in his thirties, dressed in a thawb, was kneeling toward the west, bowing as he recited his prayer.
“La ilaha illa Allah, Muhammadun rasul Allah.”
The reverence in his expression and movements made his devotion to God plain.
Was it prayer time right now?
Muslims were obligated to pray toward Mecca five times a day. That was why luxury hotels frequented by Muslims usually had a dedicated prayer room.
But devout Muslims also prayed whenever they wished, and to prepare for that, they always carried a prayer rug with them.
A moment later, the man finished praying, got to his feet, and rolled up the rug by hand.
He sat down on the sofa, while the young man who had guided me stood a step away at his side.
I greeted him, and now I could study his face properly.
He was thirty-two.
He had a handsome, gentle face. He had lived in New York since childhood and received an American education, and I’d heard he’d studied Arabic separately with a private tutor.
His name was Rashid bin Abu Bakr Al Saud.
He was the son of the current king, Abu Bakr, and more precisely the fifth son born to the king’s third wife among his twelve children.
He was a prince, not the crown prince, and the current crown prince was actually his cousin.
The reason was that Saudi Arabia used a sibling succession system.
In most countries, the throne passed from parent to child. Saudi Arabia was unusual in that the crown was inherited among brothers.
Of course, not every brother could become king.
The current king was Abu Bakr Azar Al Saud.
He was the seventh king of Saudi Arabia and the twenty-fifth son of the founder. Now in his eighties, if he died, the throne would pass to Crown Prince Khalid, the son of his half-brother Sulayman.
Prince Rashid’s current place in the line of succession was twenty-seventh.
By that ranking, the chance of his ever reaching the throne was virtually nonexistent. Even if it happened, it would be fifty years from now.
King Abu Bakr himself had only ascended the throne at the age of eighty. If his half-brother had lived just a few more years, he would have died before ever becoming king.
I bowed slightly and greeted him in English.
“Thank you for making time for me, Prince Rashid. My name is Han Miru.”
He replied in English as well.
“A pleasure to meet you. You know who I am, and this is my secretary, Asher Al Jasim.”
“It’s truly an honor to meet both of you.”
When the greetings were done, he gestured for me to sit across from him. As I lowered myself onto the sofa, I let out a silent sigh of relief.
Thank God he hadn’t told me to kneel on the floor.
In the Thai royal family, there was that absurd custom where anyone in the presence of royalty had to kneel. So wherever they were, the moment a royal appeared, you’d see all the Thai people diligently crawling on the floor.
It sounded ridiculous in the twenty-first century, but it was real.
One of the aides brought me water and tea.
“I heard you founded Continue Capital. You’ve been making some interesting waves in the United States lately.”
The “some interesting waves” probably referred to the Thomas Motors scandal and the acquisition of Snow Crash.
The way he put it made it sound as though he’d developed at least some genuine interest in me.
“So what exactly did you want to meet me about?”
Besides him, there were also aides and security personnel in the room.
“I’d like to speak privately with the prince. Would it be possible to send the others out?”
“I’m not sure what you want to talk about, but is there any real need for that?”
He seemed to be saying that if I had something to say, I should say it right there.
Could I really do that?
I picked up the notepad on the table, wrote something down, folded it, and handed it to him.
“Take a look. If this is acceptable, I’ll just say it outright.”
The moment he unfolded it, Prince Rashid’s expression changed. He stared at the note for a moment, thinking, then gave a small gesture.
Asher rose at once and sent all the aides out of the room. Once they were gone, he closed the door and returned to his seat as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
So he was the most trusted aide, then?
Prince Rashid unfolded the note and handed it back to me.
On the notepad were exactly two sentences.
I believe Your Highness should become the king of Saudi Arabia. For that purpose, I would like to offer you several very important pieces of advice.
Asher, reading it, shouted in shock, “How blasphemous!”
Leaning back on the sofa, Prince Rashid spoke in a cold voice. “That is extremely offensive. Do you understand what you have just done?”
In Saudi Arabia, even speaking about royalty was taboo.
If this had been Saudi Arabia, I would have had nothing to say even if they cut my head off on the spot.
Fortunately, this was Korea. I wouldn’t be punished for something like this. It could become a major diplomatic issue, of course, but... well, that wasn’t my concern.
I lowered my head first and apologized.
“I’m truly sorry if I offended you.”
Then I raised my head and added one more thing.
“But I mean it sincerely. You are the one most suited to the throne, Your Highness.”
* * *
There were many kingdoms on this earth.
Britain, Spain, Norway, Sweden, Japan, Thailand, and so on.
But in these countries, the king existed only under a constitutional monarchy; in practice, their political systems were not all that different from democratic republics.
Saudi Arabia, by contrast, was one of the few absolute monarchies left in the world.
The king’s power was truly unfettered.
Separation of powers? What a joke.
The king oversaw the executive, judicial, and legislative branches, and he also held supreme command of the military. In addition, only members of the royal family could be appointed to high office, including ministerial posts.
It seemed absurd for a country in the twenty-first century to function this way, but right there in the nation’s own name was the answer: Saudi Arabia meant the Arab Kingdom of the House of Saud.
Prince Rashid.
Though most people didn’t know it, he was one of the real power brokers of Saudi Arabia.
Officially, his only title was chairman of the Royal Economic Development Committee, but in practice he controlled the Ministry of Energy and even the Ministry of Defense.
In other words, the nation’s money and its army both moved at his hand.
Even so, he kept himself almost completely out of the public eye, remaining outwardly loyal to the king and crown prince.
But I knew the truth.
Two years from now, Prince Rashid would launch a coup, oust Prince Khalid, and seat himself in the crown prince’s chair.
Then, in place of the aging king, he would effectively seize all of Saudi Arabia’s power and rule the country.
His nickname was Mr. Everything.
It meant exactly what it sounded like: a man who could do anything.
* * *
Prince Rashid looked at me with ice-cold eyes and asked, “What exactly is your intention in saying something like that?”
From here on, I had to choose my words carefully.
Though he wasn’t the crown prince, even now he handled all manner of important and minor affairs with the trust of the king and crown prince. In effect, he was Saudi Arabia’s hidden power broker.
Money and power drew people in like magnets.
He had probably met countless flatterers and schemers already.
One wrong word, and I might be lumped together with them.
And that would be the end of it.
I said calmly, “Because if things continue as they are, the Saudi royal family will be in danger.”
Asher erupted again. “How dare you make such blasphemous remarks!”
Again, if you said something like this in Saudi Arabia, they would cut off your head.
Prince Rashid raised a hand and stopped him.
“I don’t know why a Korean would be concerned about such a thing, but let’s hear you out.”
Unlike Asher, who was glaring at me as if he wanted to tear me apart, there was no visible expression on the prince’s face.
As if he had been waiting for this, I began laying out the points I had prepared.
“As you already know, the cause is falling oil prices. Even now people call this a period of low oil prices, but the rate of decline will only become steeper in the years ahead.”
There were many reasons for the fall in oil prices.
Shale revolution, advances in extraction technology, new oil field discoveries, the expansion of renewable energy, and more.
“If Saudi Arabia doesn’t reform its economic structure as quickly as possible, it will face serious hardship, and public dissatisfaction will turn toward the royal family.”