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Authors: John W O' Sullivan

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BOOK: A Little Bit on the Side
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‘I think there’s something funny going on here Jack, but I can’t for the life of me make out what it is.’

On the desk in front of Jack he spread out copies of invoices issued to customers over a period of six months. These he had divided into two piles, one large and one smaller, but still containing a good many invoices.

‘If you look at these,’ he said, indicating the larger pile, ‘You’ll see that on all of them there is a description, sometimes summarised but more generally in detail, of the holiday or travel facilities that have been provided.’

Jack flipped through the invoices in the larger pile. All included some reference to rail, train or flight travel, to the nature and cost of hotel accommodation at the destination, or perhaps gave cruise details. A few were for holidays at run-of-the-mill destinations on one of the Costas or a similar resort, but most seemed to be long-haul holidays to pretty classy, up-market destinations and hotels. Jack noted in passing references to ‘no expense spared’ individually guided safaris in South Africa, a ten-week Canberra cruise in stateroom accommodation, and a Sherpa-guided climbing expedition in the Himalayas.

‘Do themselves proud, don’t they Jack?’ said Tony. ‘Got to be pretty well breeched to book your holidays with this outfit. But now have a look at these invoices.’

Jack turned to the smaller pile and quickly flipped through them. Not a reference anywhere on the invoices to flights, cruises, hotels, safaris or indeed to holiday travel of any sort, just a few bland and totally unin-formative lines. ‘Consultation and advice on improving business model,’ and ‘provision of administrative and advisory service’ were two favourites amongst the various phrases adopted, none of which were services the company actually provided.

‘Well they must have some other documents of their own for whatever these really relate to,’ said Jack. ‘So let’s have a rake around.’

From a reference number on one of the invoices they soon found their way to a rank of box files containing not only the documents they were looking for, but all the correspondence between the firm and its clients. With the information from the box files it took them only a few moments to establish that all the invoices were for precisely the same sort of holiday or travel arrangements, only on the invoices in the small pile those arrangements had been deliberately misdescribed.

‘Time for a natter with the boss do you think?’ said Tony.

Jack nodded, and asked one of the clerks to see if Stevens, one of the two directors, could come in and spare them a few moments. When he arrived Jack referred him to the two piles of copy invoices, and pointed out the differences in the descriptions of the services provided.

‘From what we have seen in your own documents and correspondence, it seems that the only thing distinguishing the two piles is what I would call the calculated ambiguity, or rather misdescription, of the wording on the smaller pile of invoices. Can you tell us what that is all about?’

‘It was done if a client requested it.’

‘Didn’t that seem odd to you?’

‘It did, but if that was what the client wanted I wasn’t going to turn away good business.’

‘Did any of your clients say why they wanted their holiday arrangements to be described in such misleading and ambiguous terms on the invoices — without any reference to the holiday arrangements at all?’

‘No.’

‘Did you not think to ask them, or wonder why?’

‘No. That was their business. It didn’t seem to me that there was anything particularly wrong in obliging them. If I didn’t, then probably someone else would.’

‘And can you say when you were first asked to provide an invoice in this form.’

‘I would say not more than four, perhaps five years ago.’

When they were again alone Tony looked at Jack with a wry smile.

‘Well I’ve been at this game almost thirty years, but it’s the first time I’ve met a scam like this. The bugger’s lying of course. He knows as well as you and I why his clients want them like this, and it looks as though there must be scores of them. I’m not surprised they get plenty of business.’

Jack couldn’t have agreed more. Most accountants who came across such invoices would have absolutely no immediate reason to suspect that they were for anything other than proper business expenditure, and the few who queried them would almost certainly quite readily accept whatever codged-up explanation was offered to them. It was, as Tony said, ‘A very nice little scam: half-price holidays subsidised by you, me and the bloke next door.’

As the company kept its records for six years before disposing of them, they began at once to examine and extract all the dodgy invoices for those six years. This they would normally have continued to do together, but Tony had another appointment which meant that he had to leave by early afternoon.

Left to himself Jack carried on alone for almost three hours, with the work taking longer than expected, and he was just winding up and getting together the books, invoices and papers that he intended to take away to complete the analysis at leisure when Stevens put his head round the door.

‘I wonder if you could spare me a few moments before you leave Mr Manning.’

‘Surely,’ said Jack. ‘Just let me finish strapping this pile of documents together … Right, fire away.’

‘This is an unusual situation for me as you can imagine Mr Manning, and I think I now understand why it is that you are so interested in those particular invoices.’

He paused, but as Jack said nothing was obliged to speak again.

‘I find it rather difficult to know how to proceed … I wonder if I could ask you, do you have any sort of scope for compromise in your proceedings?’

‘I’m not sure I understand you Mr Stevens. What exactly do you mean by compromise?’

Stevens had clearly been hoping for something a little more helpful than that, and paused again as though casting about for the right form of words.

‘Well the truth of the matter is that among the invoices that interest you there are several for just one concern where I would rather things didn’t go any further, and I wondered if there was any way in which that might be achieved. I am ignorant in such matters of course, and wondered if you could assist … It would be worth quite a lot to me.’

By now Jack had absolutely no doubt what was going on. The bugger was propositioning him, but was nervous about coming right out with it. It was something the group occasionally talked about when they got together for a beer or two, and no one could recall having ever received even the faintest hint of a proposal to buy them off with a generous quid pro quo. A tribute to the known incorruptibility of the service it would seem: always assuming that they were all honest in their replies.

A week earlier and Jack would have had no doubt about his response, but his drink-fuelled tirade in the Shagger had driven the thin end of a wedge of insurrection into his soul. He hesitated, and then decided to let Stevens run on just a little further.

‘And which invoices in particular are you interested in?’

‘If I can just run through those you have extracted I will pull them out for you,’ said Stevens.

After a few moments sorting through the invoices he’d selected those he wanted, and handed them to Jack who looked through them.

‘All for Campion Holdings and Investments,’ said Jack. ‘What’s so special about them?’

‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not say. It’s a personal connection and I don’t want to betray any confidences. I can, however, give you an assurance, if that means anything to you, that it does not impinge in any way on my own taxation affairs or those of my company.’

Jack knew that he was already treading a very fine line. His response so far left him uncommitted, just an investigator’s natural curiosity: unwise perhaps, but nothing more. Any further, however, and it might be difficult to draw back. He knew nothing of the mysterious Campion connection, and didn’t trust Stevens to tell him the truth even if he questioned him further. It was something he needed to investigate himself. Until he had done so, and considered his own position more carefully Stevens would have to wait.

‘I’ve nothing further to say at this time Mr Stevens, and you might be wise to say nothing more yourself. When I have had the opportunity to examine in more detail the documents and records that I am taking away with me I will telephone you. We will then meet again and talk further. Do you understand?’

Stevens thought he understood correctly what was being said, and realised that in any event he had little option but to go along with the proposal. To be obstructive at that stage would simply be to throw away any chance of ultimate success.

‘I’ll wait to hear from you then Mr Manning, and hope that it won’t take too long to bring this whole matter to a conclusion that is beneficial to both of us.’

Now you’re getting a bit bolder thought Jack, and then, assisted by a couple of Stevens’ clerks, he carried out to his car the documents and box files that he needed to examine further, before driving away, first to drop them off at the office, and then to make what would be a late return to Barton.

As he left the city and headed west on the country roads to home Jack was in an unusually reflective mood. He realised with some surprise that he had felt no sense of moral outrage that Stevens should have seen him as a man who might readily be suborned.

And why not? Weren’t they all at it? It just depended on your weapon of choice. Tax fraud here, insider dealing there. Dividend stripping for Jack, money laundering for Jill. Blind trusts, revolving doors: all at arm’s length of course, no undue or improper influence. Or good, honest, down-to-earth corruption like Poulson and Maudling. Just a little bit of greasing here and there to keep the wheels of commerce turning. If the Chancellor’s at it, why not me? Just need to be careful and not too greedy.

A malefactor’s creed, he thought, surprised at how readily he justified his actions to himself — and all without a twinge of conscience. Was it really that easy to slip over the line? To smile and be a villain, and having done it once, do it again, and again? For the moment it was no more than an interesting academic exercise, but he mulled the idea over many times before he arrived home, and comforted himself with a whisky and the thought that he hadn’t committed himself finally. There was no rush, wait till he’d dug a little further into the Campion business, and then make up his mind. He said, and would say, nothing to Kate.

Back in his office the following morning, with no weakening in his resolve to carry the matter a little further, Jack assembled the Stevens’ records on his desk and side table, and then stopped to consider how he should best proceed. Although not yet committed to what would be a seriously criminal act (he was realistic enough to see it plainly in those terms), it seemed to him prudent to proceed as though he were, but what in practical terms did that mean? In his official activities it had been his practice always to work with half-an-eye on the worst possible scenario.

It took no imagination to see what that might be in the case of his little bit of private enterprise, and with that in mind it seemed to him that the one prerequisite was that he should, as far as he possibly could, be able to disclaim all knowledge of, or connection with, the Campion side of the equation. That meant avoiding paper trails, and keeping all personal contact to a minimum and to such as could, wherever possible, be justified as being on legitimate official business.

This presented him with a problem. If he was going to burn his bridges then he needed to know as much about the Campion connection as he could. The only way to do so with any certainty would be to ask the district to let him have the Campion tax file on loan, and that would mean that there would be a record of his request. It would establish a connection of sorts, but he felt that he had no option. Unless things went seriously awry it would mean nothing to anyone.

Turning to the Scott Stevens’ records he had brought away with him, Jack’s first step was to extract from them every invoice, document or piece of correspondence relating to the Campion connection. These he placed in a folder and locked in a drawer of his desk. Apart from himself these had also been seen by Tony, but only in passing and as part of a larger collection, so he was unlikely to remember them.

Next he called in Charlie Thomas his clerical assistant, passed over to him the remaining copy sales invoices and other records covering six years, and told him to sort out all those invoices that contained no reference to travel or holidays, link them with the documents and correspondence he would find in the box files, and then assemble them in chronological order. Thomas returned the work to him a few days later.

‘Bloody marvellous scam they’ve got going here Mr Manning. Almost a pity to spoil it. Old boys’ network I suppose: Masons, Rotary Club, Round Table, something like that. You scratch my back; I’ll fix your holiday expenses. Oh we do see life.’

‘God you’re more of a bloody cynic than I am Charlie. Where on earth were you brought up? More respect for your masters and betters please.’

When Thomas spread out on Jack’s desk the papers he’d been working on, the full extent to which Stevens would go to please his customers could be clearly seen.

For the first two of the six years all the invoices seemed on the face of it to be in order, and not until shortly after the start of the third year did the first suspect one appear. From then on the numbers grew steadily as the news of the very special service Stevens was willing to provide filtered through the chosen in the business community.

When the final sort had been completed Jack found that he was left with two hundred and forty seven invoices, covering almost four years, and representing in total thirty-eight firms each of which was benefiting from the fraud, some just once, but others many times, and if they were doing that, what else were they doing? Most were to be found within fifty miles or so of Wol-verton, with a sprinkling outside, plus a couple of rogue items from the west of England. Jack wondered what on earth the link might be there.

BOOK: A Little Bit on the Side
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