A Hologram for the King Read Online Free PDF Page B

sea until the trees appeared again. Groups of workers, some in hardhats, some wearing scarves on their heads, huddled under the palms. In the distance, the road ended a few hundred yards from the water, where a handful of buildings stood, looking like old gravestones.
    â€”This is it, basically, Yousef said.
    The desert wind was strong, and the dust came over the street like fog. Still, two men were sweeping the road.
    Yousef pointed and laughed. —This is where the money’s going. They’re sweeping the sand in a desert.

VI.
    T HE ENTIRETY OF the new city thus far comprised three buildings. There was a pastel-pink condominium, which was more or less finished but seemed empty. There was a two-story welcome center, vaguely Mediterranean in style, surrounded by fountains, most of which were dry. And there was a glass office building of about ten stories, squat and square and black. A sign attached to the facade read 7/24/60.
    Yousef was dismissive. —That means they’re open for business every day, every hour, every minute. Which I doubt.
    They parked in front of the low welcome center, located just off the beach. It was adorned with various small domes and minarets. They got out of the car, the heat profound. It was 110 degrees.
    â€”You want to come with? Alan asked.
    Yousef stood before the building, as if deciding if anything within could be worth his time.
    â€”Add it to my bill, Alan said.
    Yousef shrugged. —Could be funny.
    The doors opened outward, automatically, and a man emerged, in a gleaming white thobe.
    â€”Mr. Clay! We have been expecting you. I am Sayed.
    His face was thin, his mustache wide. He had small, laughing eyes.
    â€”I’m sorry you missed the shuttle, he said. I understand the hotel had some trouble waking you.
    â€”I’m sorry to be late, Alan said, his eyes steady.
    Sayed smiled warmly. —The King won’t be coming today, so your tardiness is inconsequential. Will you come inside?
    They entered the building, dark and cool.
    â€”Alan looked around. Is the Reliant team in here, or…
    â€”They’re in the presentation area, Sayed said, waving in the general direction of the beach. His accent was British. All these high-level functionaries in the Kingdom, Alan had been told, had been educated in the Ivy League and U.K. With this guy, Alan guessed St. Andrews.
    â€”But I thought maybe I would give you the tour, Sayed said. Does that hold appeal for you?
    Alan felt like he should at least check in with the team, but did not say so. The tour seemed harmless and was likely quick.
    â€”Sure. Let’s do it.
    â€”Excellent. Some juice?
    Alan nodded. Sayed turned, and another helper handed him a glass of orange juice, which he handed to Alan. The glass was crystal, something like a chalice. Alan took it and followed them through the lobby, full of arches and images of the city-to-be, into a large room where anenormous architectural model, waist-high, dominated.
    â€”This is my associate, Mujaddid, Sayed said, indicating another man, who stood by the wall in a black business suit. Mujaddid was about forty, sturdily built, clean-shaven. He nodded.
    â€”This is the city at full completion, Sayed said.
    Now Mujaddid took over. —Mr. Clay, I give you the dream of King Abdullah.
    The model’s tiny buildings, each as big as a thumb, were all cream-colored, with white roads winding throughout, curving gently. There were skyscrapers, factories and trees, bridges and waterways, thousands of homes.
    Alan had always been a sucker for a model like this, vision like this, a thirty-year plan, something rising from nothing — though his own experiences with bringing such a vision to fruition had not been so successful.
    He’d commissioned a model once. The thought of it brought a twinge of regret. That factory in Budapest was not his idea, but he’d leapt upon the task, thinking it was a step to greater things. But converting a