A Little Bit on the Side (18 page)

He found himself increasingly troubled by such doubts, and in particular the thought that perhaps Martindale might in some way be able to turn the tables on him, and get away scot-free leaving him to carry the can. He went over the ground time and time again, and simply couldn’t see how that would be possible. But Martindale clearly had friends in high places, and who knew what strings he might be able to pull behind the scenes. Visions of the Board’s Investigating Officer, or worse, arose with each unexpected knock at his door: or perhaps such callers wouldn’t even bother to knock.

Distracted from his current work-in-hand by such troubling visions, he was suddenly struck by the chilling thought that locked away in the drawer of his desk he had the very evidence that could be used to destroy him: his Campion folder containing not only the invoices, but the notes and photocopies from his Ashburton researches.

All the other Stevens’ invoices had long ago been acted on and registered for investigation, either by the group or in the district. If allegations of corruption were being prepared against him, the inference that could be drawn from the documents in his Campion folder and his failure to act on them was all too clear: that he was holding them for his own nefarious purposes.

Jack, normally so calm and collected in pursuing his investigation work, was panicked into action. Taking the folder from the drawer, he sealed the contents into a large envelope, wrote a prominent note on the back, ‘To he held for JM until collected,’ and addressed it to Jimmy. He would telephone him when he got home to let him know that it would be arriving, and to ask him to keep it safe until he asked for it. He left the office at once, and despatched the envelope by registered post.

Access to revenue buildings during Jack’s early days in the late fifties and throughout the sixties had been fairly relaxed, and people came and went without too much attention being paid to them, but such easygoing attitudes came to an end in 1973 with the arrival of the IRA bombing campaign in England. Security checks were imposed; combination locks fitted to doors, and in the Midlands immediately following the Birmingham bombings in 1974 tension was high. False alarms leading to building evacuations were not uncommon then, and Jack had not long returned from half-an-hour’s absence following such an evacuation when his telephone rang.

‘Sorry to trouble you Mr Manning,’ said the receptionist, ‘I have a caller who says it is personal, but declines to give his name. Are you willing to take his call?’

At that moment Martindale was the last thing on Jack’s mind, and he’d been on the point of refusing the call when recollection of his little private enterprise flooded back, and his heart sank as it did so. He was getting cold feet, and could he have turned back the clock to Stevens’ first tentative enquiry about his scope for discretion he would have done so, but forward or back, the risks were much the same now.

‘Put the call through please.’

‘Am I speaking to Mr Manning?’

‘You are.’

‘Next Wednesday the 15
^th
at eleven o’clock, if that is convenient.’

‘It is, and I will be there.’

It hadn’t taken many words, he thought, to set up his little conspiracy, for that he now realised would be one of the charges should the affair ever come to light. Conspiracy to defraud: more serious than the simple offence of fraud, he knew, and punishable by up to ten years’ imprisonment.

Despite the fact that contact had at last been made, his misgivings, once they had arisen, could not be shaken off. Was all now well, or was he walking into a trap by proceeding with his meeting with Martindale? And in particular had he been wise to meet him at his home? Memories of his reading of the latest Le Carre came flooding back to him. Now he was worried whether the room they met in would be bugged. If it was then surely he’d be handing Martindale the opportunity for a stalemate: to record their discussions, and then simply say, ‘If I don’t pay and you act on the invoices, then I’ll reveal the recording, and you’ll be clobbered too.’ But would he? That would implicate him too in the bribery. It was all getting far too bloody complicated, thought Jack, but he could see no other option than to press on.

The meeting, in any event, was only the first part of a two-stage operation. If things went as planned and Martindale agreed to pay the £30,000, the problem then arose as to how that might be safely and securely achieved, although Jack felt reasonably content with the plan he had in mind to resolve that particular difficulty.

On the appointed day, and well in advance of the agreed time to allow him an opportunity to relax with a coffee and his paper, Jack was in Ashburton and ready for his assignation, but with no intention of proceeding with the meeting in Martindale’s house as originally proposed.

He’d found in his early days in the job that as the time for any particularly demanding or confrontational encounter drew close, he was sometimes troubled by a form of nervous indigestion that at its worst could be almost disabling, and as he walked towards the front door of Martindale’s impressive establishment, he was disturbed to feel an incipient stirring of his gut below his belt.

Beneath the front portico he paused, took a deep breath, reminded himself that Martindale had as much to be nervous about as he did, and rang the bell. Its summons was answered immediately by the sound of footsteps approaching from the back of the house.

Jack had no difficulty in recognising Martindale from the photographs he had seen: not tall, but a little above average height, clean-shaven, with fair hair combed sleekly back, good-looking, but with slightly fleshy features that suggested a possible overindulgence with the good things of life. There was the briefest of pauses as each made his initial assessment of the other.

‘Mr Manning I assume. Please come in.’

His tone was not hostile, but neither was it welcoming, and he did not offer his hand.

‘I won’t if you don’t mind … I don’t wish to offend, and I’m reluctant to alter what has already been arranged for our meeting, but I would prefer our discussions to take place outside the house. I noticed some pleasant public gardens with seats just a little way off, or if you prefer there is a quiet coffee house a couple of streets away.’

‘I can assure you that we will be quite alone in the house and will not be disturbed, if that is what is troubling you Mr Manning.’

‘Understood, but my occupation has taught me to take nothing for granted, and the subject of our discussions is such that I feel I need to be ultra cautious. Absolutely no reflection on yourself, I would add, and no great inconvenience either I assume.’

From Martindale’s delay in replying, Jack had the feeling that he might be going to take exception to the proposal, so he quickly added, ‘I assume you do still wish to proceed on the basis of my discussions with Mr Stevens, and would add that I will not be in a position to make myself available at any other time. It’s all a matter of the degree of risk I can afford to take to oblige you in this matter.’

Jack was already beginning to feel a little more relaxed, and not merely relaxed, but quite pleased with the calm, but positive and direct nature of his opening gambit.

‘Very well, if that is how you want it. Give me a moment to fetch a coat, and I’ll be with you.’

Returning with his coat, he closed the door behind him, took a look at the sky, and said, ‘I think we’ll make it the coffee house.’

The five minutes it took them to get to the coffee house they walked in silence. Martindale had evidently decided that it was not an occasion that called for the conventional pleasantries or small talk, and Jack was indifferent whether they spoke or not. He’d played the game too long not to have developed a hide quite thick enough to shrug off awkward silences or any hostility that Martindale might be nursing.

The coffee house was not busy, and they had no difficulty in finding a table towards the back where they could talk without being overheard. Ordering two cups of the same indifferent coffee that he had left almost untouched earlier in the morning, Jack sat facing Martindale, and felt that the onus was probably on him to open the discussion.

‘I assume that Mr Stevens will have given you a full account of my last meeting with him, which as you will know was inconclusive for reasons he will have made clear to you. If, however, there are any aspects of our discussions that you would like me to explain further I will be happy to do so, otherwise I think the ball is in your court.’

‘Thank you Mr Manning. I gather from Mr Stevens that you pride yourself on your plain speaking, so perhaps you will understand if I am equally blunt, and say that I feel very strongly that you have been pretty free in the assumptions you make about my personal circumstances and political intentions.

Putting that to one side, however, it seems to me that you are demanding an inordinately large amount to resolve this matter. £30,000 is a sum that I could not make readily available, and seems to be quite out of proportion to the circumstances: significantly more than your gross annual salary for a couple of years or more, if my few researches are correct.’

Jack listened to this with a certain amount of satisfaction, and a feeling that perhaps he had the measure of his man: public school no doubt. He had that air of smug self-assurance the privilege bought, but seemed not to be very sharp. A lower second at best if he went to university, and unlikely to advance very far in the Westminster arena where subtlety and crafty tact were at a premium.

His position was weak, and the initial bit of bluster served only to weaken it, and should have been resisted. It was inevitable that he had to offer some show of resistance to the amount proposed, and his financial position certainly had to be given some consideration, but a reference to Jack’s ‘demands’ and salary simply handed the initiative to Jack to make the most of what was already a strong position.

‘Mr Martindale, let me make one thing absolutely clear. I am demanding nothing. May I remind you that it was you yourself, through your go-between, who approached me and asked if anything could be done to assist you in what seems to me to have the potential to be a very embarrassing situation financially, socially and politically. If I have got that wrong, just say so and I will leave now. It’s no skin off my nose.

As far as the amount of £30,000 is concerned my gross salary is of absolutely no relevance, but yours certainly is, and from what I have seen of your taxation file I can’t believe that you’re likely to be too hard-pressed financially. Mr Stevens will, I hope, have explained to you how I arrived at half of that figure, based upon tax on the fraudulent invoices, plus interest and penalties. The other half reflects the value of the very real risks that I am taking in assisting you in this way. As I said to Mr Stevens, the social and political advantages I throw in as a bonus.

I would emphasise too that it is only the fraudulent invoices that have been taken into account in my calculations, whereas long experience has led me to conclude that where this type of fraud exists there will almost certainly be others. Only you know the answer to that, and whether the accounts of your business would stand up to the scrutiny of a detailed investigation, which would of course include an investigation into your own personal finances and those of your wife.

I repeat, it’s a matter of indifference to me whether we proceed or not. If we do, then I’m looking for a return that is commensurate with the risk I am taking and the amount you are saving. If we don’t, then the investigation of the fraud and your business affairs will proceed. You can take your chance either in the district or in my branch, and you will see then what the demands of the Revenue might be when it is over.’

Jack knew he was playing a more aggressive game here than his position warranted. The delay in pursuing the Campion fraud was now such that if an investigation was belatedly undertaken it was not beyond the bounds of possibility that an explanation for his procrastination might be sought, something that he would rather avoid.

In the event, as was clear from Martindale’s next comment, Jack would have nothing to worry about on that score. Martindale had realised his mistake in trying to challenge the size of the settlement (for that was how Jack now saw it — a settlement as in every other investigation, but this time to his benefit) and thrown in the towel.

‘And if I agree to proceed on the basis of your £30,000, what are your views on timing for payment. I don’t tend to keep an amount like £30,000 available in loose change at any time.’

‘Look Mr Martindale,’ said Jack. ‘Any delay and all contact with yourself increases the risk to me, and in that sense to you also. You may not have the ability to write a personal cheque for £30,000 right now, but I can’t believe that you can’t arrange it pretty rapidly. Let’s get it over with. We’ll both sleep the better for it.’

‘And how would you wish payment to be made, and what guarantee would I have that those invoices will never again see the light of day?’

Jack had identified the dangers associated with payment as the nub of the matter from the very outset, and given them considerable thought. His overriding objective, as it had always been, was to distance himself as far as possible from any provable connection with Martin-dale and his affairs. Accepting payment by cheque would therefore be utter folly.

Payment by cash was equally unacceptable. Notes could be marked and so traced, but it was not so much that, as the corrosive effect on money of the country’s roaring inflation. True it had fallen below its peak of over twenty percent, but it was still well into double figures. If that continued £30,000 stashed away would be worth precious little in ten or fifteen years’ time.

Jack thought in such bourgeois terms because the truth of the matter was that he did not need the money, did not want the money: at least not to spend at that time. Cars, fast or slow, bored him: nor was he interested in the flashy, louche world of the fleshpots. His disillusion with his work aside, what he had and the life he led suited him very well. He and Kate managed quite nicely and to spare on what they earned, and he’d seen and read of more than enough crime capers that came to grief from a lack of restraint in handling the ill-gotten gains to resist any temptations in that direction.