Allure of Deceit
Authors: Susan Froetschel
ALSO BY
SUSAN FROETSCHEL
Fear of Beauty
Published 2015 by Seventh Street Books
®
, an imprint of Prometheus Books
Allure of Deceit
. Copyright © 2015 by Susan Froetschel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopyÂing, reÂcordÂing, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, exÂcept in the case of brief quotations emÂbodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, organizations, products, locales, and events portrayed in this novel either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover image © Emilio Morenatti / AP / Corbis
Cover design by Jacqueline Nasso Cooke
Inquiries should be addressed to
Seventh Street Books
59 John Glenn Drive
Amherst, New York 14228
VOICE: 716-691-0133 ⢠FAX: 716-691-0137
WWW.SEVENTHSTREETBOOKS.COM
19 18 17 16 15 ⢠5 4 3 2 1
The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:
Froetschel, Susan.
Allure of deceit / Susan Froetschel.
pages ; cm
ISBN 978-1-61614-017-5 (softcover) â ISBN 978-1-61614-037-3 (ebook)
1. AmericansâAfghanistanâFiction. 2. Culture conflictâAfghanistanâ Fiction. 3. CharitiesâFiction. I. Title.
PS3556.R59353A82 2015
813'.54âdc23
2014032081
Printed in the United States of America
For my sistersâTerri, Laurie, and Joyce
CONTENTS
PART 1
This is the hell which the guilty called a lie.
âKoran 55:43
CHAPTER 1
Lime, peacock, moss, sea mist, forest, and fernâgowns in every shade of green swirled about the ballroom floor. Aromas of mint and rosemary drifted from all-green centerpieces. Leading policymakers, academics, corporate executives, journalists, and celebrities gathered in small groups, their voices low and earnest, discussing extremists massacring students in Africa, indiscriminate dumping of toxins into waterways and cancer spikes for Asia, the lack of schools and work for refugees scattered throughout the Middle East, and the countless cruelties exacted on impoverished children everywhere.
Everyone in the ballroom had a worthy cause and hoped to attract the attention of the evening's hostess, Lydia Sendry, the woman who controlled GlobalConnect, the world's largest charitable foundation.
Pearl Hanson was nervous, still in disbelief that her tiny organization, based in rural Texas, had received a cherished invitation to the spring event. Conservatives from Texas were not the typical guests of such events hosted by major foundations, designed to match the nation's leading opinion makers with new applicants like Pearl. She pinched her arm once more.
Her group had a track record for training women in rigorous natural family planning. For women with willing partners, the program was about 80 percent effective in providing birth control. For the inevitable mishaps, the group provided a year or two of support for families that could not afford to feed and clothe a newborn. Or adoptions could be arranged.
Pearl Hanson wanted to go global and submitted her proposal to GlobalConnect. The planâhead to Afghanistan and provide training in natural family planning while organizing orphanages as backup.
In the end, GlobalConnect would choose only a fraction of the applicants. The invitation alone marked applicants as global players.
“Be yourself,” Annie Johnson, GlobalConnect's executive director, had advised. “Lydia is warm and easy to talk with. You don't need to say a lot, and she will have loads of questions. Be candid and be prepared.” Annie also confided that Pearl's group was a frontrunner for the first phase of funding, including travel grants for finding local partners.
Pearl waited her turn. Taller than most of the other guests, she observed the woman who controlled the world's most powerful foundation. Lydia Sendry was reserved, sitting in the corner and studying the ballroom. Her soft silvery hair was swept to one side, and a walker was tucked out of the way. From all appearances, Lydia was the gentle grandmother type beloved by family and friends.
But the woman's eyes were neither old nor distracted. Her gaze was intense as applicants and their escorts filed by her table for brief chats. She did not delegate responsibility in distributing hundreds of millions of dollars each year. Only a fraction of the proposals could be funded, and all were approved by the small board led by Lydia.
And when Lydia sat alone, waiting for the next applicant to step forward, her dark eyes darted about, studying the room's occupants in a keen, even wrathful way.
Lydia Sendry wanted to leave behind a better world.
Paul Reichart wandered the ballroom, thinking about the foundation's ridiculous rules. Board members and executive staff had to attend at least one event annually, cheering on the desperate requests for money. Like others, he was uncomfortable, and not because of the formality. Paul was unusual among foundation staff, constantly reminded that he lacked big foundation experience. Snide murmurs followed that the global development director had obtained the job only because of his long ties with the Sendry family.
The grumbling was unfair. Every employee lacked experience because GlobalConnect was so massive, with more assets than any other private foundation in the world. Annie Johnson and the other executives insisted the work of making connections was crucial, that elaborate displays demonstrated powerful connections.
Yet they envied Paul's connections with Lydia.
He couldn't wait for the evening to end and to get on a plane back to Asia. The board approved Paul's working from offices in India and Afghanistan, target nations for the foundation. As development director, he constantly traveled, training new staff and overseeing GlobalConnect programs.
Paul liked to think that Lydia trusted him. He felt lucky to work far from the bureaucracy in New York.
The New York events were phony and conceited. Staff planned every detail, always on the lookout for symbols that reflected high-minded ideals and Lydia's preferences. For example, the staff knew how much Lydia abhorred waste. The meal was vegetarian, with ridiculously delicate portion sizes for the salads, fruit, and grilled vegetables. Top-shelf brands of alcohol flowed freely, one of Lydia's little tests. Decisions about money were constantly being made, despite the celebratory atmosphere, and the smart guests avoided alcoholic beverages. Donors and recipients had to stay sharp, assessing attitudes and the nuances of need, excess, and hurt feelings.
Such attention to detail did not prevent the wrong people from making decisions or the wrong groups from receiving awards.
Paul kept his criticism to himself. Best he stayed far from the States. The executive staff quickly marginalized employees who posed too many questions or suggestions. Paul owed Lydia and her only son everything, and he had no other plans but to dedicate his life to a foundation that almost failed to materialize. More than once, Annie reminded staff that plans for the foundation had not been finalized before the premature death of Michael Sendry, the founder of Photizonet, who was Lydia's son and Paul's best friend. A select few understood Michael's vision, or so she intimated.
If she only knew . . . For Annie, the foundation was wealthy, influential, and adored, and she was a stubborn bulldozer against all criticism.
The evening's speeches had ended, and guests maneuvered about the room. A young man, college-aged and blond, trim in an expensive tuxedo made to fit an athletic build, zigzagged through the crowd, affable as he approached Lydia's table, where a security perimeter protected her from unwanted, unreasonable pleas. The man was too young, too unknown. A member of Lydia's security team, also in tuxedo, leaped forward, issuing a reminder that guests needed an appointment and designated escort to approach Lydia's table.
Like a magician, the intruder waved his hand and released what appeared to be a yellow scarf flowing from his sleeve. A petite woman in a turquoise silk sheath stepped forward and stretched the banner wide, the words in blood red:
Family Planning Saves Lives; Do More at Home, GlobalConnect.
Security ripped the banner away and escorted the young couple from the ballroom, but not before photographers captured the imageâLydia with her head turned, reading the message.
Hiding her fury, Annie excused herself from a small group of executives and headed back to the podium. First, a brisk apology for the interruption from what she described as “the foundation's young and enthusiastic supporters” and then the well-practiced summary of statistics on the millions donated by GlobalConnect to worthy causes over the past year.
Then she paused, ensuring that she had the crowd's attention. “We represent civil society, but our organization is not a democracy,” she said. “Our role has been approved by voters in our democratic society time and time again. They have placed their trust in visionaries of our society to set priorities on needs and provide funding. The late Michael Sendry was among the greatest of these visionaries. His life, cut short, was so full. He innovated tirelessly without complaint and set goals for us. It's his vision we honor every day.”
The audience cheered wildly.
Annie moved close to the microphone and spoke over the applause, her voice strong and firm, to point out how the protests were self-defeating. “As many of you know, GlobalConnect has a unique set of governing policies. Michael emphasized tolerance, compromise. He believed that opponents can work together, and many paths can lead to the same goal. Unseemly demands for funding in one area only prompt GlobalConnect to locate and fund organizations with opposite goals.”