Karim, King of England

by Baz Wade

  “Is it just defamation they’re worried about?” asked Shelley.

  “Primarily defamation, but also information accessed from government computers could be criminal in some circumstances, and hacking into computers to see people’s bank accounts.”

  “So you did that?”

  “Not personally – I got a friend to do it, and I’ve collated the information which is quite damning.”

  “What does it show?”

  “It shows about four members of the Treasury team siphoning off profits into their personal bank accounts in places like Panama in relation to profits derived from hedge funds, while losses were posted to travel disbursements and sundry miscellaneous expenses.”

  “Okay, can I see the evidence?

  “Sure – most of it’s copied onto a couple of discs I’ve brought with me. I’ll show you a couple of examples on my laptop.”

  After about 20 minutes of looking at various bank accounts, ledger entries and e-mails, Shelley declared himself to be satisfied.

  “Yes, I reckon we can run with this – I’ll get something put in the next issue – it’s a pity Paul Foot isn’t still with us, he would have loved to get stuck into this.”

  “Would you get your lawyers to check this out?” enquired Gilmour.

  “Yes we’ll probably run it past them, but whether we take any notice of what they say is another matter!”

  “Fine, that’s what I like to hear – publish and be damned, as they say,” said Gilmour. “By the way, I’ve got some more material in the pipeline from a mate of mine who’s been working in the banking sector – watch this space!”

  True to his word, Shelley put a half page article in the next issue in the “Business News” section – the headline was:

  HEADS WE WIN, TAILS YOU LOSE –

  H M Treasury.

  The article mentioned the names of four Treasury officials apparently caught up in the scam, including dates and amounts involved.

  There would be no hiding place for the culprits – they would be questioned by the Public Accounts Committee of the House of Commons and then by the Police – the former might turn out to be more brutal than the latter.

  At the next Cabinet meeting in Number 10, Smithson remarked:

  “The fallout from this could be serious, Keith.”

  “I’m sorry, Ivan, I was only told part of the story by my civil servants.”

  “Well it’s up to you to find out the rest of the story, preferably not by reading it in the papers. This makes us, or more particularly you, look complacent and cynical, and additionally calls into question your competence.”

  “Well if this was China and I was President, we’d close down Private Eye,” remarked Dyson.

  “Well it isn’t, and you’re not,” Smithson said helpfully – “I’ll stand by you for now as you’ve shown me loyalty in the past, but if this gets too hot to handle you may have to fall on your sword. It looks like Labour and Ibrahim’s lot are limbering up to hit us hard with this.”

  The rest of the Cabinet looked sombre and most managed to nod silently in agreement.

  Sure enough, Ibrahim and Labour’s Shadow Chancellor, Ben Keyes, were dissecting the Private Eye article and scandal generally that night on BBC2’s Newsnight, with the programme’s presenter, Dan Nicholson.

  “It’s the contempt shown for the taxpayer that’s truly shocking and scandalous,” opined Keyes.

  Ibrahim nodded in agreement – Keyes continued “We undertake to clean up government departments so the spivs are rooted out.”

  “There’s no doubt this is criminal behaviour and we are calling for the Police to investigate and arrest the culprits,” said Ibrahim.

  “Don’t you accept that this was perpetrated by corrupt civil servants and their political masters are not to blame?” asked Nicholson.

  “Not for one moment,” said Keyes.

  “The politicians must take responsibility for their teams,” said Ibrahim – “they are supposed to create a culture of integrity and honesty in relation to public money – the first time questions were asked about this, the government spokesman said there was no criminality and left it at that – that’s just not good enough.”

  “Various leading politicians don’t seem to get it,” remarked Keyes, “and it’s likely the Electorate will punish them – and rightly so…”

  12

  In the words of the respected British economist, John Kay, modern banking in the West has represented a union between a utility and a casino.

  The utility side of the business comprised the low risk retail banking sector holding deposits, dealing with money transfers and vanilla lending.

  The sexy casino side of the business comprised investment banking, higher risk lending, trading in futures and other activities involving high risks in return for high returns… or heavy losses.

  The important point is that the old fashioned retail banks could expect to be bailed out by the Government if they failed, whereas the higher risk investment banks could not.

  The legal separation between retail and investment banking had been imposed in the United States by the Glass-Steagall Act of 1933, passed as a consequence of the stock market crash of 1929.

  However, the rot set in again with the repeal in 1999 of the Glass-Steagall Act when President Clinton’s administration caved in to the powerful banking sector and repealed the 1933 Act, thus allowing the banks to carry out retail and investment activities under the same roof.

  To retain an active international banking sector and remain competitive, the UK banking authorities followed suit with the abolition of certain key regulations.

  Ed Ruskin, an Australian working at the Bank of England, knew in broad brush terms most of the above historical and economic facts as a result of his degree course at the LSE.

  However, the narrative he was more personally concerned about related to two dates in Australian history when the British Establishment had, in his view, shafted two relatives of his by killing one and destroying the political career of a second.

  The first date was 1915 when the Gallipoli landings saw his great-grandfather, a Captain in an Australian Infantry Regiment, cut down by Turkish machine guns within five minutes of landing on Turkish soil.

  Gallipoli had been Churchill’s idea while a Minister in the British Government. Churchill was made the scapegoat for the disaster, resigned and duly took his place in the trenches on the Western Front.

  No amount of contrition on the part of Churchill, or any other British politician, could heal the fatal wounds sustained by Captain Ruskin and the thousands of other ANZAC troops who perished in the same campaign, leaving heartbroken family members at home, including the agonised surviving members of the Ruskin family.

  Ed Ruskin’s view was that his great-grandfather and the other dead ANZACs had been murdered thousands of miles away from home by Churchill and the British State to further the dubious objectives of the British war machine and British imperialism.

  The other date etched on the collective memory of the Ruskin family was 1975, when Gough Whitlam’s Labour government was controversially dismissed by the Governor General, the Queen’s representative, after the Liberal dominated Senate blocked the Government’s money bills.

  The subsequent general election saw Labour thrown out and Ed’s father, Chris, then a promising Labour politician, lost his seat.

  Chris never got over this. It seemed like the British Monarch’s rep had behaved in a biased manner, which resulted in a radical Labour government being replaced with a Conservative/Liberal administration.

  Further evidence of British hostility and callousness towards Australians, if more was needed, was Ed’s 2.1 Degree in Economics and Philosophy from the LSE. He reckoned he should have got a First – he saw himself as bright enough to get a First and he’d certainly worked hard.


  In his opinion, he’d been penalised for being radical and having anti-British views.

  He denied he was anti-British – he was just anti-British Establishment.

  However, Ed’s Degree was good enough for him to be taken on as a Graduate trainee at the Bank of England. He showed promise, and after two years was seconded to the Financial Conduct Authority (FCA), still under the umbrella of the Bank.

  Ed’s immediate boss at the FCA was Trevor Morris – they did not get on.

  Ed saw Morris as stuffy, self serving and bureaucratic. Morris had got on by being polite to the right people and filling in forms on time.

  They co-existed for five months and then Ed faced a career threatening crisis of conscience.

  He had jointly, with Morris, conducted an audit of Broad Bridge Bank (BBB), chaired by Sir George Petersham, a leading City luminary and substantial Tory Party donor.

  In Ed’s view, certain aspects of the Bank’s management of financial risk were not kosher and he fully intended to broach the subject with Morris, who would be responsible for signing off the FCA Report.

  Ed was certain there’d been substantial mixing of deposits and investment funds amounting to a clear breach of the guidelines fully re-imposed following the 2008 banking crisis.

  After a day spent rehearsing what he was going to say, when Ed eventually spoke to Morris about the problem, the conversation was as follows:-

  “Trevor, I need to speak to you about BBB.”

  “Okay, fine, fire away.”

  “I think there’s been a clear breach of the guidelines – deposits and investment funds have been mixed – we can’t sign it off as having a clean bill of health.”

  There was a slight pause.

  “Well, for a start, it’s me that does the signing off – you’re just my assistant,” responded Morris. “Secondly, I know what you are alleging and I’ve mentioned the potential problem to George Petersham, who has undertaken to put things right asap. We were at school together and I’ve every reason to trust him, and I’m not prepared to blow the whistle on him.”

  “But you must know it’s not as simple as that – we’ve – you’ve got a responsibility to flag up breaches like this – you don’t have a choice.”

  “I decide if I have a choice or not – not you – and if you rock the boat on this I’ll make sure you get fired, and I’ve got enough clout in this town to ensure you never work in the City again.”

  For 4 seconds Ed stared at Morris open-mouthed – it was then as much as he could do to restrain himself from calling Morris a typical Pommie bastard and decking him then and there.

  “Okay, message received – I’ll let you know later if it’s understood or not…” Ed replied, and left the room.

  That evening, Ed worked late and with the office empty, he decided to see what, if anything, he could discover by snooping discreetly in Morris’s office.

  Morris’s desk was locked, but Ed easily found the key in a receptacle for pens and paper clips between the drawers and the rim of the desk.

  The desk was full of various forms and the usual paraphernalia of an office desk. After about 5 minutes Ed had found nothing of interest and was about to give up, when he noticed a small leather credit card case at the back of the lowest drawer. The case contained, not a credit card, but a UFB Bank debit card complete with international sort code and account number in the name of Trevor D Morris.

  Though UFB’s HQ was in London, it was very much an international bank with a reputation for having active branches in several tax havens including the Cayman Islands and Isle of Man.

  Ed knew he was now on to something as a Bank of England official having a bank account, probably in a tax haven, though not illegal in itself, would be regarded as “irregular” if the Bank of England’s authorities got to hear of it.

  Ed used his phone to take a snapshot of the card and then replaced it where he’d found it.

  For the following few days, Ed was out of the office dealing with another audit.

  He was in for a surprise a week later – he knew something was wrong when the receptionist studiously ignored him when he got in, instead of being her usual friendly self. He soon discovered the reason – his desk had been cleared of all papers and clutter. Such had been deposited in a bin liner and left at the side of the desk, apart from the computer screen and a letter addressed to him which read as follows:-

  Dear Mr Ruskin

  Your contract of employment has been terminated with immediate effect, due to gross and dishonest conduct, being the use of your office telephone to make two long distance phone calls to Australia at a total cost of £45.73 which you have not paid for.

  In any event, this is contrary to the Bank of England’s staff Code of Conduct paragraph 3 sub-section 2.

  We know these calls were made by you as it’s the Bank’s policy to record all calls, as you know.

  The calls were discovered during a routine audit – a copy of the Invoice showing the numbers called is attached to this letter.

  Please do not attempt to access e-mails on your computer any more. The password has been changed and further access will be denied.

  A completed P45 form is enclosed.

  Yours sincerely

  Tracey Trimdale, Head of Human Resources

  Ed realised it was true and that he was snookered. He had intended to pay for the calls but had then forgotten about them. One call was to his parents and the other to a girlfriend.

  The thought of some ferret at the Bank listening to his personal calls upset him more than getting fired.

  He picked up the bin liner and made for the exit without acknowledging anyone or saying any goodbyes.

  As soon as he got out on the street, he phoned his mate, Jeremy Gilmour.

  “Jezza – it’s me, Ed. I’ve got some good news and some bad news – the good news is I’ve got a story for you as I half promised a couple of days ago, the bad news is that I’ve had the boot from the Bank – no doubt they sensed I was onto something. Are you still in touch with that hacker friend of yours? We’re going to need him.”

  The following evening Jeremy Gilmour and Ed Ruskin travelled to Walthamstow on the tube to see the hacker known only as Ahmed.

  “How much do we have to pay this guy?” enquired Ed.

  “It’s £75 a shot – cash – that’s however long it takes. Usually with a Bank Account it’s one or two hours.”

  “What if he can’t get access in two hours?”

  “He will ask for an additional fifty quid and try for another hour. If there’s still no joy he will give up or refer you to his more expensive friend who owns more powerful equipment.”

  Twenty minutes later, Jeremy was introducing Ed to Ahmed, at the latter’s flat, a loft conversion in a Victorian warehouse.

  Jeremy handed Ahmed the £75 cash.

  “Okay, guys, what do we know about the target punter?” asked Ahmed.

  “His name’s Trevor Morris, he’s a Bank of England employee and he’s about fifty.”

  “And his e-mail address?”

  “It’s here.” Ed handed over one of Trevor’s business cards.

  “Fine – any ideas about date of birth?”

  Ed shook his head.

  “Okay, we’ll try the Magistrates Court website. You can often get it if there’s been a speeding fine imposed, failing that we’ll try for a copy Birth Certificate online from Somerset House. I think you’ve got a photo of the debit card?”

  “I’ll e-mail it to you now from my phone.”

  “No, best get a hard copy off your phone – even hackers’ e-mails get hacked sometimes!”

  About 3 minutes later they had a hard copy.

  “Yes, you’re right, this is a Cayman Islands Bank Account – we’re lucky it’s not Swiss – they are next to impossible to hack into as there
are no names, just numbers and the data is encrypted,” commented Ahmed.

  “So why didn’t he choose a Swiss Bank Account?” queried Jeremy.

  “The Swiss Banks are gradually opening up under pressure from various European and other Governments hunting tax evaders,” explained Ed.

  “The Caymans are still relatively private unless, of course, you get hacked – and you don’t get hacked if people don’t know you have an account there.”

  After about an hour Ahmed had produced copies of the last 4 months’ bank statements. There were only 2 or 3 entries per month, but Ed found what he needed – for each of the last 3 months there was an entry of £20,000 shown as being received from GP Enterprises, Isle of Man – described as consultancy fees.

  At home that evening Ed searched the Isle of Man company on line that had made the payments and established that George Petersham was sole Director and 100% shareholder – so it didn’t take a genius to work out that, at the very least, there was a conflict of interest involved in Morris’s receipt of the payments and that, in itself, should be enough for Morris to consider his position at the Bank.

  “Consider his position terminated before it gets any worse,” said Ed, thinking aloud.

  He phoned Jeremy.

  “Jezza – I’ve got what I need – time to organise a meet with that Private Eye dude – what was his name – Shelley?”

  “Correct – I’ll get on the phone to him tomorrow. We have to act quickly as the Election’s fast approaching, or how about cutting a corner and going straight to

  Sheikh at The Sun? He’d lap it up I expect – there’s no love lost between him and Smithson’s Government.”

  “Okay, fine by me – do what you can.”

  By 6.00 pm the following evening, Jeremy and Ed were conferring with Harry, one of the editorial team at The Sun.

  “Our readers are only interested in this kind of thing if public money is being put at risk, which it is, by the look of it,” remarked Harry. “It’s definitely political, as the Bank and FCA are the Chancellor’s responsibility.