it was while Majid was first in Geneva making his report that his uncle got fired and Majid was abruptly promoted to head the Health Ministry. He was immediately faced with the most serious decision a person in that position could make: whether to call off the hajj that year. Every Muslim is commanded to make the pilgrimage once in their lives if they are physically able to do so, and to shut the door on them would have spiritual consequences. Not to mention the financial shortfall. After oil, the hajj was the only real business Saudi Arabia had. With reported cases of MERS diminishing, Majid finally declared that only the elderly and those suffering from chronic diseases should avoid making the pilgrimage. It turned out to be the right call, although one Spanish woman was diagnosed with the disease after she returned to her country. It could have been otherwise, Majid knew. He was lucky.
Although they had kept up as colleagues over the years, Henry had never been in the kingdom before, and he had only stereotypical images of the place in his mind—sand, women in black, fantasy palaces. When he landed in Jeddah, he was escorted to the luxurious royal terminal. There were veiled women—princesses, he supposed—in the lounge, smoking hookahs and looking bored. They gave him a curious look. He was an intruder, neither Arab nor royal and clearly not a celebrity.
A group of men entered in long white thobes, like a flotilla of swans. They were big men, fit, handsome, a perfectly matched set, each of them with identically trimmed black beards and the traditional red-checkered headscarf. The cordon they formed enclosed another man, similarly dressed but wearing a black cloak embroidered with gold trim. It took Henry a moment to recognize his friend: he had never seen him in his native garb, but now Majid really did look the part of a prince. For the first time, Henry imagined that his friend could one day be king.
But now they were hovering over the hillside in the helicopter while one of the cops chased a goat away from the landing zone. Majid adroitly settled the copter on the improvised space between the police Land Cruisers and the encampment. It took Henry a moment to get his legs in working order.
“What happened to your cane?” Majid asked.
“Burned,” Henry said.
Majid looked at him queerly but did not pursue the matter.
Henry noticed a cell tower and a satellite dish. Fortunately, communication wasn’t going to be a problem. In one of the tents he glimpsed an operations center, with closed-circuit video feeds from cameras inside the holy area. He followed Majid into the largest tent. A chandelier hung from the center point, illuminating the oriental rugs and the brilliantly colored quilted walls. There were no chairs, only banquettes against the sides of the tent, leaving a large empty space in the center—representing the desert, Henry supposed. It was chilly inside the tent, and he realized that it was air-conditioned.
Majid sat on the carpeted floor against the banquette, his movements lithe and natural. He motioned for Henry to do the same, then offered a hand when he saw the awkward way in which Henry descended, dropping to one knee and then falling backward onto his butt. Henry missed his steadying cane. He was going to have a hard time living without chairs.
A servant appeared with a long-snouted brass ewer and poured a dollop of hot liquid into a demitasse. “Arab coffee,” Majid explained. “Can you smell?”
Henry inhaled the steam from his cup. “What’s that spice?” he asked.
“Cardamom, cloves, and saffron,” Majid said. “We are addicted to this concoction.” He spoke to the servant in Arabic, and the man rushed out of the tent. In a moment, he returned in the company of a policeman. Majid introduced him as Colonel Hasan al-Shehri—dark and broad-shouldered, with sharp features awarding him an air of a predatory bird. He was in charge of the early-warning surveillance system, which monitored symptoms that might lead to disease outbreaks. More than thirty thousand health workers were at their posts to support the massive number of pilgrims.
“At your service,” the colonel said, when the prince apprised him of Henry’s eminence.
Henry asked whether he had detected epidemic disease among the pilgrims.
“Nothing more than the usual hajj flu,” the colonel said. “There are fewer patients in the infirmary this year. Mostly pneumonia.”
“Deaths?”
“About two thousand so far.”
“They come here to die,” Majid explained. “They see it as a blessing. We try to