Enemy of the State

IT was just after midnight and Rabat felt largely deserted. Prince Talal bin Musaid stared out at thedensely packed residences built into the hills overlooking the city. His eye was attracted to a human outline ducking into an alley to his right, but through the glass of his Mercedes S-Class it didn't seem real. The layer of dust covering everything, the cracked façades, the ragged laundry hung out to dry none of it had ever been part of his existence. This was the world of the faceless masses. The people he became aware of only when they failed to do his bidding. Four days short of his thirty-ninth birthday, his life had become a blur of private jets, beautiful women, and luxury homes. London, Monaco, Paris, New York they were indistinguishable to him now, existing only to house the opulent nightclubs and shops that he and his companions required. Exclusive places that precious few people knew about and even fewer would ever be admitted to. He could still be coaxed back to Saudi Arabia when family politics demanded, but more and more it was a place to be avoided. A place of bitter memories, betrayals, and reminders of a birthright stolen from him.