She pushed herself up from the ground, sat upright and looked round. At the roof eaves there was a small gap where the rafters met the wall. A patch of blue sky and a smudge of cloud.
How long had she been here? She rubbed her head. Just a few hours, or had she been unconscious for longer? It didn’t really matter. Nobody knew where she was and nobody was coming to rescue her. Sean had always been an unlikely knight in shining armour, and now his armour was tarnished.
Silva stood, feeling dizziness and a sharp pain in her forehead. She took a moment to recover and then walked round the room, examining every inch. The door was of heavy boards, bolted through. There was no handle on her side, nor did there seem to be any sign of a lock or hinges. She figured the door must open inwards, which if the room was for animals made sense. She gave the door a tentative push, but it was solid and immovable.
The only other thing of interest was the water pipe. The piping looked substantial, but the fixings holding it to the wall had corroded. Silva reckoned she could pull the pipe free and use a length of it as a weapon.
She was about to test the strength of the wall fixings when bolts clattered on the door. Silva stepped back into the corner of the room as the door swung open.
‘You’re awake.’ Greg Mavers stepped into the room. Close behind came the two men who’d been with Mavers at her father’s house. One held a pistol while the other carried an iron bar and a length of rope. Mavers waved a hand at the room. ‘I’m sorry the surroundings aren’t up to much, but there you go.’
‘This can’t work. There’s too much of a trail. Too many people know.’
‘Oh but they don’t, Rebecca. Not the damaging stuff. They know about a few arms deals and some money which may or may not have come from various unsavoury sources. They don’t know about the rest of it.’ Mavers moved a finger to his right eye. Scratched something. ‘The problem is, you do know everything.’
‘And I’ve told others. If I disappear it will all come out.’
‘Then I’ll need to know the names of the people you’ve told.’
‘I won’t talk.’
‘You will. You must have had enough training to know that not talking isn’t an option. It doesn’t take much for people to spill the beans. I should know, I’m ex-CIA. Been there, done that. So if you thought you were dealing with some pen-pushing diplomat, then I’m afraid you’re mistaken.’
‘You won’t know if I’m lying or not.’
‘Let me explain.’ Mavers tilted his head at the man with the iron bar and rope. ‘We’ll need to investigate everyone you say you’ve told. So lie if you wish, but it’s not going to be pleasant for those you finger because we’ll have to interrogate each and every one of them.’
‘Well, I haven’t told anyone.’
‘You’ve changed your tune, but if that’s true then good. The problem is we need to be sure. The iron bar will help. We can beat you with it. We can break your fingers or smash your kneecaps. We can do other things. Think what it would feel like with that piece of metal inside you. Especially if we heat it up. At the end, we’ll know if you’re telling the truth or not.’
‘You’re going to kill me.’
‘You’re an assassin, Rebecca. You killed Lashirah al Haddad. Sure, you denied it earlier, but I don’t believe you.’ Mavers moved forward. ‘Our friends in Saudi Arabia would like you turned over to them, but I won’t hear of it. Their methods make ours look positively benign. To be honest I’d like nothing better than for you to be taken to the US to face trial, but the issue with that is your mouth. Far better you simply disappear.’
‘Don’t you think there’ll be questions asked? First my mother, then Neil Milligan, then me? Too much of a coincidence.’
‘There are questions asked about the moon landings, about Elvis Presley, about 9/11. Compared to those world events your death will be but a footnote. I really don’t think anyone will be interested.’ Mavers stepped back towards the door, careful not to turn his back. ‘Now, think very carefully about what you are going to tell us when we return, OK?’
Mavers slipped out the door and the two men followed. The door swung shut, the bolts clunked across and the light swung gently in the draught.
Chapter Thirty-One
Holm slept in his own bed for the first time in days, but the following morning he was back in the office with Javed. The lad fired up his computer and his fingers hovered over the keys.
‘If I do a search it will be logged,’ Javed said. ‘The Spider probably has a screen on her wall showing what each of us is googling. Cheap flights, gnocchi recipes, ripped abs, that sort of thing.’
Holm eased himself into his chair. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could keep this quiet anyway. ‘Just do it,’ he said. ‘RAF Wittering.’
Within in a few seconds Javed had found a Financial Times article detailing a trade summit that had taken place at the airbase. A huge arms deal had been signed off by the secretary of state for defence, and a top Saudi diplomat had attended along with the US deputy ambassador and several senior military figures from the UK and American military. There’d been a ceremonial handover of the first tranche of arms and the shipment included surface-to-air missiles and other air defence equipment. Afterwards there’d been a reception hosted by Allied American Armaments.
‘Surface-to-air missiles,’ Javed said. ‘The thought of Taher getting his hands on a couple of those is chilling.’
‘American Armaments.’ Holm looked at the article. ‘That’s the Hope family, right? The Hope family, as in Karen Hope.’
‘Yes.’ Javed rapped the keyboard and did a fresh search.
Holm leaned in and read more. The
