by Tom Clancy
Dr. Fairchild pointed at the Japanese battle flag. He smiled broadly. “My father kept several souvenirs from the war, including me. He decided to stay in Singapore rather than return to Blighty, and started a small firm, which has since become Dalfan Technologies.”
“Impressive,” Jack said.
“I attended university here, where I met my wife, the mother of my two precious children. She was half Chinese and half Indian. She and I spent the first years of our marriage in London, where I earned my doctorate in electrical engineering, before returning here to start our family.”
Jack had read his wife’s online obituary on the plane ride over. “I’m sorry for your loss. Dr. Fairchild was an accomplished woman.”
“Thank you. I miss her still.”
Paul’s research into Dalfan hadn’t included the personal stuff. He was touched by Fairchild’s grief, an emotion he understood too well.
Yong set his coffee down. “As you can see, we are a proud Singaporean family, but typical of our people. We work hard, obey the laws, take risks, create wealth, pay our taxes. Singapore is successful because it has allowed families and companies like ours to prosper.”
“Sounds a little like the American Dream,” Jack said.
“Or what used to be the American Dream,” Yong said. “Your national debt, government corruption, and massive trade deficits put all of that at risk. The ‘end of history’ has a different meaning for the United States these days.”
Jack understood the reference. He had read Francis Fukuyama’s seminal 1989 article years before at Georgetown. Fukuyama’s thesis was that all of human history was progressing toward a final, culminating idea of liberal democracy that marked the “end” of historical development, and the United States was the epitome of that idea. Fukuyama’s argument seemed unassailable in the 1990s after America won the Cold War. Fascism and communism had been defeated by Western liberal democratic ideals. But America’s challenges and Europe’s crises in the twenty-first century suggested that liberal democracy itself might have seen its best days, at least in the declining West.
“Don’t count us out yet,” Jack said. “My country has a habit of coming back from behind to win.”
“I’m a huge fan of your father,” Dr. Fairchild said. “If anyone can revive the United States, it’s him.”
“I’m a fan, too, sir. But the country is too big for one man to fix all by himself. My father always does what he thinks is best for all Americans. Hopefully, there are enough of us who will do the same and follow his example, no matter what it takes.”
Dr. Fairchild nodded approvingly. “I have great hopes for your country and mine. The West has its problems, but the world as we know it—at least the best parts of it—is Western to the core, even here in Asia.” The Dalfan CEO shot a sideways glance at his son. “Don’t you agree, Yong?”
“No question, Father. But China is undoubtedly on the rise, and America’s influence in Asia is in decline.”
“Do you agree with that statement, Mr. Ryan?” Lian asked.
“The upcoming summit will help shape peace in the region for years to come, I’m sure.”
“A very political answer,” Lian said.
Dr. Fairchild smiled playfully, leaning forward, feigning conspiracy. “Care to share any specifics about the agenda?”
Jack smiled and shrugged. “I don’t have any. I’m just making an educated guess. My father doesn’t talk about financial investments with me and I don’t talk politics with him.”
“I understand.” Dr. Fairchild nodded thoughtfully. He muttered absentmindedly, “Fathers and sons.”
Lian spoke. “We are honored that you and Mr. Brown have come here, and we hope you know how much we want this deal to go through with Marin Aerospace Systems.”
“As a third-party auditor, all I can promise is that we will be as fair and evenhanded in our analysis as we can possibly be.”
“We would expect nothing less,” Yong said. The muscles in his jaw flexed. “My department will make every effort to assist you in your work. But trust me when I say that you will find all of our accounts in order and the financial strength of our company uncontestable.”
“I wasn’t suggesting otherwise,” Jack said, surprised by the sudden hostility. “I apologize if I’ve offended you.”
“Of course you haven’t,” Dr. Fairchild said. “My son runs a tight ship. He’s not used to someone running a gloved finger along the windowsill, looking for dust.”
“Good, because that’s what we’ve been hired to do. Paul will handle the quantitative analysis, and I’ll be checking in with your division heads and asking a lot of questions to help me get a better sense of your operations.”
“Whatever access you need will be provided to you. My son will be your primary contact person for the audit, and my daughter will see to your security needs.”
Jack shrugged. “Security? I thought Singapore was one of the safest cities on the planet.”
Dr. Fairchild tented his fingers in front of his smiling face. “Yes, I suppose it is, isn’t it? Still, precautions are in order.”
“I will also be your tour guide. I imagine you will want to see the sights and get a feel for the city,” Lian said. “You can’t separate our company from our country. The two go together, hand in hand.”
Jack smiled. “We look forward to it.”
Yong shifted in his chair. “Tell me, Mr. Ryan—”
“Please call me Jack. As much as we’ll see each other, there’s no point in being formal.”
“Okay. So tell me, Jack, can you tell us your opinion of Mr. Rhodes and Marin Aerospace Systems?”
“In what regard?”
“Are you of the opinion they still want to go through with the merger?”
“I’m confused. Why would you ask that? If they weren’t interested, we wouldn’t be here, would we?”
“Humor me, please.”
“We’re a neutral third-party examiner. I don’t think my opinion is worth much.”
“But as a neutral third party, you are in the best position to form an unbiased opinion about the two parties in question.”
Jack glanced at Paul. You wanna help me out here?
Paul shrugged. You’re on your own.
Jack dove in. “As far as I can tell, Marin Aerospace is very eager to proceed with the merger. And while our job is to provide a thorough and unbiased analysis of your firm’s net worth and operations, my impression is that Mr. Rhodes is hoping that we will be able to sign off as quickly as possible.”
“That’s good to hear,” Dr. Fairchild said. “When Mr. Rhodes canceled the audit, I was concerned Marin Aerospace was reconsidering their offer.”
“Not at all,” Jack said. He didn’t feel comfortable revealing that Rhodes and his team had simply screwed up.
“Your visit is pro forma. That’s the term of art, I believe,” Yong said.
“As per the contract of intent,” Paul countered. “Signed by both parties.”
“Do you have any questions for us, Mr. Brown?” Dr. Fairchild asked.
“Call me Paul, please. Just one for now. From what I’ve read, your company has been extremely successful. Why do you want a merger with Marin Aerospace? Most companies prefer to remain independent.”
“Beyond the obvious advantages that additional capital will provide, the fact remains that the world marketplace is terribly competitive. We won’t survive for much longer without a strong infusion of liquidity and the global resources that a company like Marin Aerospace can provide.”
Jack watched Yong. The man’s gaze shifted around the room and his mood darkened.
“You don’t fear losing your autonomy as a company?”
“If we’re wiped out by competition, we won’t be autonomous anyway,” Dr. Fairchild said. “The reason why I chose to merge with Marin Aero
space was Senator Rhodes’s promise that we would remain an independent entity under their corporate umbrella.”
“What else would they say?” Yong asked. “You wouldn’t have agreed to the proposal otherwise.”
Dr. Fairchild stiffened in his chair. It was clear to Jack the two men had had this conversation before.
“I trust Weston Rhodes and the board.” He turned to Jack and Paul. “Barring any unforeseen mishaps, the merger will be going through shortly, and that’s my final decision.”
“My understanding is that the agreed-upon stock purchase price is substantially higher than the current market price,” Jack said, trying to drain the tension out of the room. He looked at Yong. “Your family will be very rich.”
Dr. Fairchild nodded. “My legacy to my children. What else is the duty of a father than to provide for his heirs?”
So that’s the real reason you’re doing this, Jack thought. He wondered if Dr. Fairchild had some health issues. Something to look into later.
Lian checked her watch. “Excuse me, Father, but it’s late and our guests are probably tired. I should get them to their residence.”
“Of course. How thoughtless of me.” Dr. Fairchild stood. The others followed suit. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation very much, gentlemen. I hope you’ll be my guest here again soon.”
“We look forward to it. Just as soon as we get our work done.”
The Dalfan CEO smiled. “Excellent.”
16
Lian and Park, her South Korean bodyguard, pulled inside the electric gate and into the driveway of a newly constructed two-story home in a newer and more crowded neighborhood. It was much closer to the Dalfan corporate headquarters near Changi Airport than Dr. Fairchild’s mansion was. The rain had stopped.
Lian’s bodyguard helped Paul and Jack unload and carry their luggage into the foyer.
“It’s a modest house,” Lian said, “but it has all of the modern amenities. We keep it available for visiting guests like you.”
“We’re honored,” Paul said.
Lian pointed at the umbrella stand. “Feel free to use those. It’s monsoon season now, you know.”
Jack had checked the weather before packing, but clearly Paul hadn’t, judging by the stunned look on his face.
“Yes, we know,” Jack said, covering for Paul.
Outside, the home was mostly stucco and glass, with a sloping red-tiled roof—obviously influenced by the architectural style of traditional homes like Dr. Fairchild’s. He had laughingly described the style of his home as “tropical Tudor-Elizabethan.”
Lian gave them a quick tour of the place, including separate bedrooms with private bathrooms, a fully stocked kitchen, satellite television, and high-speed Wi-Fi.
She opened the back door and led them to a detached garage. She activated the automatic garage door opener and handed Jack a set of keys.
“The Audi TT is a company vehicle, completely at your disposal. Of course it has a satellite GPS system, should you need it.” Lian pointed at the far wall, where two bikes were chained up. “Sometimes it’s easier getting around on one of those than driving.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“My father wants you to be comfortable. If you need anything, you have my number. Also, meals will be provided to both of you at the office. Any questions?”
“A hotel would’ve been fine with us.”
“Isn’t this better?”
“Much better, thank you.” And easier for you to keep an eye on us, Jack thought.
“Then we’ll leave you to get settled in. I imagine we’ll see you tomorrow?”
“First thing.”
“Good. We’ll talk about our security arrangements then.”
She didn’t offer her hand, only a curt nod. She and Park marched across the lawn toward a side gate and straight for their vehicle. Jack and Paul headed back into the house.
Paul made a beeline for the kitchen. He found an electric kettle with water and plugged it in. “I need another cup of tea to settle me down before bed.”
“My biological clock is all messed up, too. It’s morning back home right now. We need to get on local time quickly if we want to get any work done.”
“I’m boiling extra water.”
“Sounds good.”
Paul grabbed two cups out of the cupboard and set them on the counter, then limped into the foyer. A luggage zipper zipped open and closed before Paul returned to the kitchen with a box of tea bags. “Chamomile is good to help you sleep.”
“Thanks.”
Paul poured boiling water into the waiting cups.
Jack took a seat. “What did you think of Dr. Gordon Yeoh Fairchild?”
Paul opened up the cupboard doors, doing an inventory. “Nice man, smart. Seems like he really wants this deal to go through.”
“His son wasn’t as keen. I think he’d be just as happy if we got on the plane tomorrow and never came back.”
Paul smiled. “I know the type. He’s defensive because he’s good. In his mind, there’s no need for an external audit because his numbers are perfect and any reports he’s filed are flawless. It’s a good sign, actually. It’s when the accountants are overly cheerful and compliant that you know something’s wrong, because most of the time, there is. There are way too many i’s to dot and t’s to cross, especially on the ledgers of a complex international company like Dalfan.” Paul found a bottle of Glenfiddich single-malt scotch. He pulled it down.
“You’re probably right.”
“I know I’m right.” Paul unscrewed the cap and tipped an ounce into his tea. He pointed the bottle in Jack’s direction. Jack shook his head. No, thanks. “What did you think of Lian, his daughter?”
“Still forming an opinion.” Night had finally fallen. Jack checked his watch. “Let’s hit the ground running tomorrow. We’ll leave here at seven, if that’s okay with you.”
“I’ll be ready.”
—
Lian’s Range Rover was speeding along the tree-lined East Coast Parkway when her cell phone rang. It was Yong.
“Where are you?” Lian asked.
“On my way home. Have you dropped them off?”
“Just a few minutes ago. What do you want?”
“I saw the way you were looking at them, especially Ryan. I’m concerned.”
“You needn’t be.”
“They’re not our friends. These men have been sent to find something wrong with our company. Rhodes sent them to find a way to drive the purchase price of our stock down.”
“Are you certain?”
“Don’t be naive.”
Lian frowned. “They won’t find anything, will they?”
“Of course not. How can you even ask me that? But that doesn’t mean they won’t lie or make something up.”
“Jack and Paul didn’t strike me as liars,” Lian said. “They’re just doing their jobs.”
“Their job is to screw Father out of his money, or worse. Rhodes isn’t stupid. He sends the President’s son to make a big impression. But it’s obvious what he’s up to.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“You don’t have to be. Just keep a close eye on them, especially Ryan. I’ll have someone keeping close tabs on Brown. Let them do their audit, but let’s not give them the chance to cause any trouble for Father. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Besides, we already talked about this. If something were to happen to the President’s son while he was here, there would be hell to pay. And Father would be humiliated.”
“Nothing will happen to Ryan. I’ll keep close to him. You have my word.”
“Thank you, Sister. That’s all I ask.”
—
The bedrooms were upstairs. Paul took the one at the far end of the hall, overlooking the stre
et, Jack the one closest to the stairwell. Paul wouldn’t let Jack help him with his heavy suitcase or duffel as he limped his way up the stairs. Paul was obviously out of shape, but the way he slung the luggage around told Jack that there was still some power left in those flabby arms.
Jack unpacked his suitcase and put his things away, then decided to grab a shower before bed. He felt grimy after traveling in the same clothes for nearly twenty-four hours in closed spaces and breathing recirculated air.
Before stripping down, he decided to do a quick check of the room. He was being paranoid, he knew. But there was something about the way Lian studied him. At first he thought it was because he was the son of the American President. As hard as he tried to hide that fact, it invariably got out. It wasn’t surprising that the head of corporate security would’ve discovered that, but even more likely, Rhodes had told her. He probably thought it was a real coup that Jack Ryan’s son was doing his audit.
The other possibility was that she thought he was a good-looking guy. But she wasn’t throwing off any kind of vibe that led him to believe she was sexually interested in him. Too bad. She was a real looker.
Over the course of the meal he finally figured out that she watched his every move and carefully analyzed his words. She was intensely interested in him, for sure, but in the end, she was just doing her job.
And if he were her and the job were to collect intel on a visitor, he’d bug the joint he put them up in.
Maybe he was being overly cautious, but better safe than sorry. He thought about sharing his concerns with Paul but decided against it. No point in thinking or acting like a spook in front of him, especially if there wasn’t any proof yet. But he didn’t know what kinds of things they’d be discussing regarding their findings at Dalfan, and he didn’t want that information to be shared without his consent.
Jack went to the shower and turned the water on full blast, along with the faucets in the sink. If his rooms were under audio surveillance, the sound of rushing water could defeat all but the very highest grade of noise-reduction software.
