Chapter 40
Oman
The man stood at the high, broad window and spent a few moments gazing pensively at the view. From the house, the landscaped gardens of the Al Bu Said residence sloped gently down towards the sea. Palm trees swayed in the Indian Ocean breeze. He could see the light dappling the water like liquid gold around the gleaming white hull of the family’s superyacht, moored in its private marina in the distance. It was a late afternoon in November, but the sun was warm through the bulletproof glass of the window.
What a way to live, the man thought. He drank in the spectacular view for a few moments longer before dragging himself away. Dreams were all very well. But it wasn’t his view, and such opulence would remain infinitely beyond his reach if he lived to be a thousand years old. Not everyone could be born into such unimaginable wealth. Maybe that was just as well.
Turning to look back at the rest of the big room, he faced the darker reality of the situation.
And what a way to die, he thought, shaking his head sadly. Their money had done them no good in the end.
Most physical signs of the brutal quadruple murder were long gone, erased since the forensic team had finished their work. The bodies of Hussein Al Bu Said, his wife Najila, and their two children – Chakir, twelve, and seven-year-old Salma – had been housed in a mortuary at the family’s privately owned hospital in Salalah until they
