‘Politics. It was important for the system to be seen to be working. You were a pawn in a game. Pawns are sacrificed so the queen can triumph. Ask yourself was it right for you to face sanction when a prime minister can give the order to kill tens of thousands and escape scot free?’

‘I’ve done that many times. The only conclusion I’ve come to is the common people get stepped on while the big beasts get away.’ Silva shipped the oars. They were a little way out from the jetty and the boat coasted in. ‘Could you?’

Fairchild reached for the jetty as they slowed. ‘They haven’t caught the terrorists who killed your mother, have they?’

‘No.’ Silva pulled the painter from the front of the boat and tied it off. ‘But I’m sure they will. It’s just a matter of time.’

‘You sound quite sanguine about it.’

‘Look, if I was on a tour and I got the chance to slot the bastards, I would.’ Silva lifted the oars from the rowlocks and stowed them in the boat. She stepped out onto the jetty. ‘The problem is, I’m not, and if there’s one thing my father taught me, it’s don’t sweat the stuff that isn’t in your orders because there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ve got to live with the way the world is.’

‘Very noble.’

‘Not at all, it’s simply a matter of survival.’ Silva bent and held the boat as Fairchild stepped out. When he had, she straightened. Tried to conceal her anger and appear gracious. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Fairchild. Give my regards to my father.’

Silva turned and walked down the jetty. She headed across the lawn and round the side of the house. As she walked she heard her father call her name. She ignored him. At the front of the house she took her helmet from the bike and pulled on her leather jacket. As she was putting her gloves on, Fairchild came out of the front door. He’d taken a shortcut through the house. Silva sat astride the motorbike and fired it up. Blipped the throttle.

‘Rebecca!’ Fairchild stood alongside. He shouted above the grunt of the engine. ‘We need to talk!’

‘We just did. Goodbye.’

‘Your mother wasn’t simply a journalist caught in the crossfire.’ Fairchild placed a hand on Silva’s shoulder. ‘The news you’ve been fed isn’t the whole truth.’

‘What?’ Silva shouted too, not able to fully understand Fairchild through the padding of her helmet.