A Little Bit on the Side (14 page)

Only when he turned to the list of passengers for the fourth or fifth time, having just browsed through his notes and the Stevens correspondence with Martindale’s accountants, did the pieces fall into place. After the names of Sir Marcus and Vincent (with wives) he could now identify James Thornycroft, senior partner in the accountancy firm acting for Campion, Nigel Parkinson, Sir Marcus’s agent and William Haverford Chairman of the local party, each accompanied by his wife. Now he saw that the yacht charter operation began to make sense: it was Vincent greasing the wheels of the local political machine.

Jack now felt himself to be as fully prepared as he could be, and telephoned Stevens to arrange a meeting for the following week in Jack’s office, on an afternoon which he had arranged to be completely clear of other business. It was a novel situation he was in, but he didn’t think it called for a radically different approach. If Martindale was this desperate, then as Jack was himself putting so much at risk he intended to take an uncompromising line and go for all he could get. And this time, he thought, the settlement at the end of the day will be money in my pocket, not the Chancellor’s. With that objective in mind, and after a few initial formalities, he opened his campaign.

‘I should explain Mr Stevens that the nature of my occupation has been such that I have grown accustomed to speak plainly, perhaps bluntly, if the need arises, and I thought it might save time and a certain amount of tentative manoeuvring if I were do so now.

You will, I am sure, remember what you had to say at our last meeting, but it may help if I were to refresh your memory. You asked me if I had any scope for compromise in my proceedings, explaining that there were certain copy invoices where you would rather things went no further. You wondered whether there was any way in which I could assist with that, adding that that would be worth quite a lot to you, and, if I remember correctly, that it would be to our mutual benefit.

My interpretation of those comments, please correct me if I am wrong, is that you were proposing to offer me an inducement to ensure that no subsequent action was taken involving those invoices that you subsequently went on to identify.

Put in the starkest terms, you were proposing a little bit of bribery and corruption of an officer of the Crown. Am I correct?’

If Stevens was shocked by Jack’s Blitzkrieg tactics he gave no visible sign of it, but although he offered no instant denial of Jack’s interpretation of his words at their earlier meeting, he was clearly extremely reluctant to confirm it in such specific terms.

‘Come now,’ said Jack. ‘This isn’t MI5. The room isn’t bugged, and if I were seeking to entrap you I wouldn’t go about it this way. Perhaps it would reassure you if I were to say that if my interpretation is correct I’d be interested to hear what it is you are proposing, but first I would like to ask you once again what it is about those particular invoices that so concerns you, or rather your client’

From the very beginning of his career Jack had seen his function as essentially one of role-playing, and frequent practice had schooled him to stand back to assess his performance and its impact on his audience. His present rather unusual situation seemed to him to be no different, and his thoughts were that for a beginner he was playing it bloody cool.

‘You certainly believe in plain words Mr Manning, and I’d like to respond by being equally frank with you about the invoices, but it really is a issue of confidence, and I can only repeat that it’s a personal matter.’

‘Can we turn then to the heart of the affair. Speaking bluntly again, what exactly is the sweetener you have in mind to induce me to betray my trust?’

Stevens was obviously still unhappy with the directness of Jack’s approach.

‘I’d really prefer it if we could avoid talking in quite those terms Mr Manning … If that’s at all possible.’

‘In neutral terms then, what are you offering?’

Dear God, Jack thought, this is getting to sound more and more like a settlement interview. I’ll be talking about penalties and interest next.

‘I have to confess that I still don’t find this easy Mr Manning. It’s not a situation that I used to.’

‘Nor I, I can assure you.’

‘I mean, I have no idea what your interests or preferences are, but I could lay on, shall we say, a very attractive cruise. Two weeks, all expenses met. Yourself and Mrs Manning, if you are married. Or perhaps a two week tour in India. Golden triangle: that sort of thing with top of the market hotels.’

‘Mr Stevens I quite appreciate that we are both feeling our way here, but I don’t think you fully understand my position. God forbid that what we are now considering should ever come to the knowledge of anyone but ourselves and your client, but if it did my job, pension and possibly worse would be in the balance. It wouldn’t go too well for you either, I should add.

I couldn’t possibly consider a holiday or anything else that might link me in any way with you or the activities of your business, however remotely. It would be utter madness and inviting disaster. Nor do I think you have considered, nor perhaps understand, what the cost would be to your client were the fraudulent invoices to be investigated in the district’

‘How do you mean Mr Manning?’

Jack held up the thirteen copy sales invoices.

‘These fraudulent invoices total £14,744, and from the enquiries I have made I can tell you that the evaded tax alone on this little dodge would almost certainly amount to £11,058 … I see that you are surprised, or perhaps have not thought the thing through sufficiently. That I imagine is one of the risks of acting as a go-between as you so obviously are.’

‘But what amounts are we going to be talking about then Mr Manning?’

‘Mr Stevens, I have no idea how much you know of Martindale or what binds you so closely together, the same public school perhaps, but the present circumstances are such that, unlike yourself, I do not feel myself bound by any constraints of confidentiality, so let me put you in the picture on a few matters.’

Here Jack gave Stevens an appropriately edited version of the facts he had established concerning the activities and interests of the Martindales, father and son, as a result of his enquiries in Ashburton, and his review of the invoices and other papers, with particular reference to the identities of the other guests on the yacht.

‘Now as my information seems to indicate that Martindale is a millionaire or better, I know that he would have no difficulty whatsoever in funding a cash settlement with the Revenue in the usual way, even if these invoices are not, as I suspect, his only frauds. So there must be some very special reason why he would want to take the extreme action, via the offices of a friend, of attempting to bribe a taxman

I already know that shortly after our last meeting you informed at least one of your clients, other than Martindale, of my enquiries concerning these fraudulent invoices. I believe that immediately after we first discussed these at our last meeting you telephoned Martindale, and told him what was going on. He then asked you to sound me out and make me an offer … I should, by the way, point out that as things stand, if anything went wrong, he could easily deny any personal involvement leaving you to carry the can.

I believe his reasons for wishing to avoid a revenue investigation are essentially social and political. Were such an investigation to take place it would inevitably involve Martindale’s accountants, and so would come to the attention of the senior partner who was one of the guests on the charter cruise. I imagine he would look on that entertainment and Martindale rather differently were he to know that it was part of an elaborate and substantial tax fraud.

Confidential as such investigations are, income tax offices and accountants’ chambers in a provincial city can be embarrassingly leaky places, and the word can get around in informed circles to those who need to know. This would I imagine include Sir Magnus, his political agent, and the chairman of the local party who were also guests on the cruise. With Sir Magnus a former junior minister at the Treasury and Vincent himself seeking adoption to stand at the next General Election there would, all in all, seem to be plenty of reasons, other than financial, for him to wish to keep the lid on this particular can of worms.’

Of all this Stevens was evidently ignorant, and he paused for a moment as he took it all in.

‘So where do we go from here Mr Manning? I made a proposal earlier on, but you do this sort of thing more than I do … Sorry that’s not right, but you know what I mean.’

‘No apologies called for. We’re both feeling our way. But let me take you back to my starting point. The invoices total £14,744. The tax on that at Martindale’s rate amounts to £11,058. It’s a pretty calculated and deliberate sort of fraud, so even with generous abatement an investigator would be talking about a penalty of around £2,500. Add interest to that and the total amount is pushing £15,000. And that isn’t taking into account the possibility of any other frauds in Martindale’s affairs that an investigation might unearth.

But in addition to that, I also have to consider and put a value upon the risk that I am taking in acceding to your client’s request. In brief I’m putting at risk my career, my pension and possibly prison. I would assess that at an equal amount of £15,000.

So to wrap the whole thing up we’d be talking about £30,000. The social and political benefits to Mr Martindale and any other frauds that he may have engaged in are a bonus, I’ll throw them in for free.’

There was a long pause before Stevens replied.

‘I’ll have to be frank Mr Manning, and admit that I’m now entirely outside my brief. I can’t possibly negotiate at this time around that sort of figure.’

‘I must confess I’m not surprised, but I have to say that proceeding in this way with you acting as broker means further delays, and the longer this affair is drawn out, the more frequently we meet, the greater the risk to me. So when you go back to Martindale tell him that the £30,000 I am proposing is not negotiable: in my opinion it’s a bargain. If he’s not happy with that then I’m quite prepared to let the Revenue enquiries follow their usual course.

Finally as it will be known that you have called here today I will leave on file a note of our meeting. It will not of course record our actual discussions, but will simply be a brief memo to say that I have been questioning you again concerning your part in supplying invoices to your clients in such irregular terms. It will indicate that I made no further progress.

I am, however, prepared to have no further meetings with you on the Martindale matter, although we will have to meet again to conclude the investigation into your own affairs in the usual way. I would ask you to let Mr Martindale know this, and that if he wishes to proceed any further the meeting must be with him, and be confined to the two of us only. For obvious reasons it cannot take place here or at the offices of Campion Holdings and Investments, so I would suggest, at least initially, that it take place at Mr Martindale’s home at a time and place to suit his convenience in the near future.’

Despite his composure during the meeting Jack had from the outset been obsessed with the risk factor in the project he was pursuing, and despite agonising endlessly over the way in which it might be carried forward from this point had not arrived at what he considered to be a completely risk-free solution.

He was determined not to proceed further without meeting and involving Martindale directly, but unlike the operatives in Le Carre’s fiction Jack did not have the luxury of a safe house for his encounter with Martindale. A meeting at Barton was out of the question, booking a hotel room was equally unacceptable as it would mean giving a name and address. As he saw things at that time Martindale’s home was the only option left to him, and he would have to take the chance that Martindale, even more than himself, and for his own reasons, would be anxious to keep those final stages strictly between the two of them. Overall he felt that the risks of this arrangement would be minimal.

‘And if Mr Martindale wishes to proceed as you propose, how is any future meeting to be arranged?’

‘Either you or he can telephone. Say it is personal, but do not give your name. When I answer, simply give the date and time that will be convenient for a meeting and I will be there.’

‘Understood Mr Manning. I hope that it will be possible for you to hear something very soon. I have to confess that this whole business has given me a few sleepless nights.’

The meeting over Jack found it quite impossible to settle to any other work, and finished early for the day. If he had handled the matter coolly during the meeting, he now felt rather more tense than he had expected. In circus terms had he used all the right tradecraft, covered all the angles, kept his hands clean? Was the emotion he felt elation at a workmanlike bit of skulduggery or nervousness at the path to which he was now committed. In either event he needed a drink before he left for home.

To all of Jack’s professional ills, life with Kate and their friends on Barton Hill provided the perfect antidote. They met frequently with Jimmy and Celia either at one of the houses, at the Shagger, or on rare occasions at The Parish Pump for a drink and a meal. For Jack and Kate, with two regular monthly cheques going into their bank account, such little indulgences presented no problem. But from the occasional hints that Jack received he was made aware that trips to The Pump had to be limited as Jimmy and Celia operated on a pretty tight, if untaxed, cash budget.

Having fallen below the Taxman’s radar when they went up to North Uist, their income, said Jimmy, would never be such as to trouble him again. Poor in cash, rich in living, was the way in which he described their life style, and it was this one deficiency that was Jack’s only regret in the relationship, as for him neither Jimmy’s home brews nor the Shagger’s anomalous ales were an adequate substitute for The Pump’s best bitter and Mrs Arscott’s cooking.

Not that the Gillans lived like hermits. They may have been without TV and car, but if the need arose they could always run to a taxi, and if Jimmy wanted a new LP or book he always seemed to get it. Celia too, when off-duty from the smallholding, liked to keep up appearances. It couldn’t all have been barter thought Jack, who wondered if there might have been rather more coming in than they liked to admit, or perhaps a little bit of help from Daddy to Celia.