A Hologram for the King Read Online Free PDF Page A

tries again. ‘Head on boolevard,’ b-oo-l. ‘Damn!’ he says. He looks around and sees that no one is looking. He nudges the head a little bit with his foot, takes out his pencil again. ‘Head on curb.’”
    â€”That’s good, Yousef said, though he hadn’t laughed.
    They drove in silence for a mile or two. The landscape was flat and blank. Anything built here, an unrelenting desert, was an act of sheer will imposed on territory unsuited for habitation.
    Charlie’s body, when they pulled it from the lake, looked like debris. He was wearing a black windbreaker, and the first thing Alan thought was that it was a pile of leaves wrapped in a tarp. Only his hands were visibly human.
    â€”Do you need anything from me? Alan asked the police.
    They didn’t need anything. They’d seen the whole thing. Fourteen police and firemen watched Charlie Fallon die in that lake over the course of five hours.

V.
    â€”S O WHY ARE YOU going here?
    â€”Where?
    â€”KAEC.
    Yousef pronounced it like cake . Good to know, Alan thought.
    â€”Work, Alan said.
    â€”You in construction?
    â€”No. Why?
    â€”I thought maybe you’d help get it started. There’s nothing happening there. No building at all.
    â€”You’ve been there?
    Alan assumed the answer would be yes. It had to be the biggest thing anywhere near Jeddah. So of course Yousef had seen it.
    â€”No, he said.
    â€”Why not?
    â€”There’s nothing there.
    â€”Not yet, Alan corrected.
    â€”Not ever .
    â€”Not ever ?
    â€”It won’t happen, Yousef said. It’s already dead.
    â€”What? It’s not dead. I’ve been researching this for months. I’m presenting there. They’re full steam ahead.
    Yousef turned to Alan and smiled, a huge grin, monumentally amused. Wait till we get there, he said. He lit another cigarette.
    â€”Full steam ahead? he said. Jesus.
    On cue, a billboard came into view, advertising the development. A family was arranged outside on a deck, an unconvincing sunset behind them. The man was Saudi, a businessman, a cellphone in one hand, a newspaper in the other. The woman, serving breakfast to the husband and two eager children, wore a hijab, a modest blouse and pants. Below the photo was written K ING A BDULLAH E CONOMIC C ITY : O NE M AN’S V ISION , O NE N ATION’S H OPE.
    Alan pointed to it. —You don’t think that’ll happen?
    â€”What do I know? I just know they haven’t done anything yet.
    â€”What about Dubai? That happened.
    â€”This isn’t Dubai.
    â€”It can’t be Dubai?
    â€”It won’t be Dubai. What women want to come here? No one moves to Saudi Arabia if they don’t have to, even with the pink condos by the sea.
    â€”The woman on the billboard seems a step forward, Alan said.
    Yousef sighed. —That’s the idea, they say. Or they don’t say it, but they’re hinting that at KAEC, the women will have more freedoms. That they’ll be able to mix more freely with the men and drive. Thatkind of thing.
    â€”And isn’t that good?
    â€”If it happens, maybe. But it won’t happen. It might have happened at one time, but there’s no more money. Emaar’s a bust. They’re going broke in Dubai. Everything was overvalued and now they’re busted. They owe money all over the planet, and now KAEC’s dead. Everything’s dead. You’ll see. You have any more jokes?
    Alan was alarmed, but tried not to take Yousef’s pronouncement too seriously. He knew there were detractors in Saudi and elsewhere. Emaar, the global developer that built much of Dubai, was in trouble, victim of the bubble, and everyone knew that without King Abdullah’s personal involvement and his own cash, KAEC was in trouble. But of course the King would put his money in. Of course he would ensure that it moved forward. It had his name on it. It was his legacy. King Abdullah’s pride would not