‘The hub of my business,’ Fairchild said, noticing Silva’s interest. ‘My game is security. Protecting business interests or charity projects, supporting governance through the provision of law and order. There are many places in the world where a little stability can go a long way. I seek to provide that stability.’
‘And what about a terrorist attack in Tunisia? How does that fit in?’
‘Through here.’ Fairchild ignored her question and strode on until they reached a heavy wooden door. He pushed the handle down and went through. The room beyond was a cross between a library and a lounge. Tall bookcases towered over a set of armchairs that clustered round a huge fireplace. A window seat looked out onto a terrace. Fairchild gestured at the armchairs. ‘Take a seat. I’ll be back in a mo.’
He returned a minute later with a sheaf of papers under one arm. He put the papers on a low coffee table and settled into an armchair.
‘Who killed my mother?’ Silva said. ‘I don’t believe it was Karen Hope, but I’m prepared to accept she’s mixed up in all this somewhere.’
‘Mixed up?’ Fairchild cocked his head to one side. ‘Oh, I’m afraid “mixed up” is the least of it.’
‘Show me.’ Silva pointed at the fan of documents.
There was a pause before Fairchild spoke. ‘What do you know about Hope?’
‘Not much. She’s a Democrat, but right wing. Her family are involved in the military in some way. She’s the front runner in the race to be president. It seems as if she’s a compromise candidate who can win over the centre ground.’
‘For a young woman, you’re remarkably well informed.’
‘Don’t patronise me.’
‘I’m not.’ Fairchild held up his hands. ‘Most people these days, of all ages, can barely recognise any of our own politicians, let alone those from another country.’
‘Get on with it.’
‘Let’s start with some background.’ Fairchild extracted a sheet from the pile of documents. He slid it across the table. ‘Everything you need to know is in here, but I’ll summarise.’
Silva reached for the piece of paper. There was a picture of Hope at the top. Beneath the smiling face a couple of paragraphs listed Hope’s biographical details and notable achievements.
‘You are right about the military angle. Karen Hope’s father founded what is now Allied American Armaments. By sales it’s the fifth largest arms manufacturer in the US. The family connection helps Karen Hope appeal to a wide voter base, and many Republican voters are going to turn to her at the next election. Just think, recent presidents have been despised by roughly fifty per cent of the population. Karen Hope is different and offers exactly what her name suggests. A rare chance for unity in a divided country.’
‘What is this? American Studies 101?’ Silva shook her head. ‘Can we get back to the point? About how Hope is responsible for the death of my mother?’
‘Of course.’ Fairchild reached for another piece of paper. A printout of a spreadsheet. Columns of figures. Dollar signs. Lots of zeros. ‘How do you think Karen Hope funds her campaign?’
‘Her father?’
‘Right. American Armaments provide a good chunk of money, but here’s the thing: until recently the business was fighting to be profitable and it looked as if the company would go under.’
‘So?’
‘Here.’ Another photograph. A fifty-something man with a Panama hat over glossy blond hair. Perfect teeth bared in a grimace and white skin flushed red with the heat. Next to him a glamorous woman with a slim figure. ‘Brandon Hope, Karen’s brother. The woman beside him is his Italian wife, Pierra. Brandon used to be a diplomat and for several years he was the United States’ top man in Saudi Arabia. He retired from the diplomatic corps a while ago and founded an aid charity which operates from a base in Italy. Of course at some point in the future Brandon or his sister will be expected to head American Armaments, but for now the father remains in charge.’
‘I don’t—’
‘The arms industry has been notorious for kickbacks. Think British Aerospace, now BAE Systems. Remember the allegations concerning huge bribes the company paid to the Saudis?’ Silva nodded and Fairchild continued. ‘Well, Brandon Hope has been exploiting some of the personal connections he built up when he was a diplomat. As a kickback for arms contracts with the Saudi Arabian government worth hundreds of millions, he’s been helping a wealthy Saudi backer distribute cash directly to terrorist groups across the Middle East and North Africa. This is done through his charitable operations in regions where accountability is close to zero. The effect the arms deals had on the bottom line of American Armaments was dramatic and occurred right around the time Karen threw her hat in the ring. Brandon’s plan, I guess, was to ensure Karen would be president when it was time for the father to pass control of the company to his offspring.’
‘Karen Hope can’t have been aware of the link.’
‘You know her, do you? Personally?’ Fairchild reached for the picture of the congresswoman surrounded by cheering supporters. ‘Appearance is everything in politics and Karen Hope has cultivated an image that shows her to be strong but fair, compassionate while at the same time willing to make tough choices. Don’t be fooled though – behind the mask there’s a woman determined to grab power by any means possible. Can you imagine her state of mind when she found out her brother had brokered an arms deal that involved funding terrorists? She’d have known if the information became public she would be swept aside, her political ambitions shattered.’
‘I still don’t believe she was involved.’
‘Let’s go on, then.’ Fairchild paused and took a deep breath before continuing. ‘Brandon
