The Real World- the Point of Death

by Laurence Todd

  He was nodding, seemingly satisfied with the veracity of what he’d just said.

  “We also know Garlinge’s been using his political contacts to make introductions to some of his senior colleagues in the Tory party as well at Bartolome,” he went on. “He’d be contacted by officials in the Bahraini or Saudi government, or whoever, and he’d meet them at the House and take them to visit whichever minister they wanted to see in either the Defence Ministry or some other Government department. Just for making such introductions, we know Garlinge accepted payments in cash. These were drawn from the Entertainment and Facilitation account and paid out to him under the heading of performance bonus.” He scoffed. “We’ve copies of these accounts, and we can prove he accepted payments. The Bahraini official even submitted a receipt for money he accepted when he met Garlinge, and the accounts give details of what he paid to Garlinge. We’ve checked and there’s no evidence Garlinge ever declared any of the payments he received with the register of MPs’ financial interests either. He accepted substantial undisclosed sums for facilitating business, which weren’t part of his salary, and he didn’t declare them. Sounds like bribery to me.”

  “You’ve got the company’s actual accounts regarding this?”

  He smiled. “Yup, and they’re the real McCoy. We’ve had this confirmed. There’s no way we’d have made any of these allegations unless we were absolutely sure what we knew.”

  If this was true, and the evidence Bartolome claimed to have stood up to independent scrutiny, Charles Garlinge was looking at very real trouble. Bribery was a criminal offence, and all businesses knew it was illegal to utilise it to facilitate business. “And you’ve told Garlinge what you know.”

  “Oh dear Lord, yes.” He laughed out loud. “He went puce when we told him what we have, but he refuses even to acknowledge our material, says it’s all lies, forgeries or something like that. We even offered him the opportunity to meet, take a look at what we have and discuss our claims rationally, but he just became hysterical, calling us traitors and terrorist sympathisers, the crap you’d expect from someone as pompous as him, and threatening us with a defamation suit. It’s obvious we’re on the mark because of the extremity of his response.”

  “What was your response after he stonewalled you?”

  “We simply told him, if he fails to respond inside a given time period, we’ll give copies of everything we have to the press. We’ll also forward it to the Serious Fraud Office, who’ll undoubtedly launch an investigation, and then the fun’ll really begin.” He laughed again. “Whether the press’ll run with it’s another matter, but we’ll make our allegations known to them anyway.”

  “By press, you mean the newspapers?” I already knew Richard Clements was aware of this. I wondered how much more he’d learnt since I’d last spoken to him.

  “Only those we believe would be interested in publishing this information, not those who wouldn’t want to embarrass a Tory government. Papers like the Guardian, the Observer and possibly the Sunday Times would at least give it serious consideration. We’ll give it to the magazine New Focus as well. They’re much more likely to run with it. In fact, I’ve already met with one of their writers to offer him what we know.”

  I didn’t tell him I knew who that was. I could just imagine Clements salivating at the receipt of information like this.

  “And we’ll also be sending copies of what we know to current affairs TV programmes,” he went on. “Someone like Panorama, perhaps. They’ve already done one exposé of corruption in the arms trade and they’d be interested in what we know, especially if it’s known a Tory MP’s involved.” His grin almost split his face in half. “They also did a really good exposure of bribery in the sugar industry not too long ago.”

  “Just to be clear. You’re stating this information was sent to you.”

  “It was sent to us a couple of weeks back,” he confirmed.

  This would have been the week before my wedding, when Clements claimed to have heard something relating to this issue.

  “A substantial A4 envelope addressed to me was delivered one morning, packed full of stuff from Bartolome: quite detailed accounts, letters, minutes of board meetings, stuff like that. There was also a printed note on Bartolome headed notepaper saying something like Hope Armswatch can make use of these. I looked at it and my initial response was what? But, as I said, before we could do anything, we had to have the accounts checked over and verified. When we were told they were genuine, this was when we knew we were on to something.” He paused. “We didn’t ask for this material, and we didn’t seek it out. It was sent to us. I mean, for us this is gold dust, and you can tell how explosive it is just by Garlinge’s reaction to being told what we’re in possession of. We went to Garlinge and asked him to comment, but he refused. Instead, he cries on whoever’s shoulder it was and, lo and behold, up pops Special Branch.” He nodded towards me.

  “Who contacted him?”

  “My assistant, Cassie Anderson. She’s the one who spoke to him, told him what we had and what we knew about him.” Graves started grinning and sipped from a glass of water. “And then he went ballistic.” He laughed. “Threatened us with litigation if we went public, said he’d bankrupt us, bring in the police and MI5 and all that. He said he’d do everything he could to shut us down. He really did go off on one. He’s a real pompous bastard, so I’d have loved to see his face when he was sounding off.”

  He sat quietly for a few seconds.

  “We just want him to come clean,” he said calmly, “because what he did was illegal, as well as against all the rules of conduct for MPs, but, if he doesn’t, we’ll give what we know to the press and the Serious Fraud Office and he’ll have to take his chances in the court of public opinion. We just want this out in the open. We want the public to know just how corrupt the arms industry really is.”

  *

  Telling Graves I’d be in touch again, I left to go talk to Garlinge. I was now very interested in how he’d respond to Armswatch’s allegations that his name featured in minutes implying the usage of corrupt payments, and also to allegations of accepting payments and not declaring them in the register of MPs’ interests. What would he have to say?

  I called his office at Portcullis House and explained Special Branch needed to meet up with him to discuss Armswatch’s allegations against him. He sounded disappointed, saying he’d been hoping to leave for his Hertfordshire constituency within the hour, but was free to talk now if I could come immediately. I agreed and said I was on my way.

  Earlier this morning, when I’d been looking up Graves’ details on the Branch database, I’d also looked up Garlinge’s. He’d been an MP a year, elected in the by-election which’d been triggered after the death of Paul Sampson, and he’d held on to the seat very comfortably. Not that it’d been hard. In an area where an anaemic blood cell wearing a blue rosette could be elected to Parliament, it would be harder not to win. Paul Sampson had also worked for Bartolome Systems, as had his father-in-law, the late Jeremy Godfrey. I wondered how well they all knew each other as Garlinge had worked for Bartolome for several years in a senior management capacity before becoming an MP.

  At the entrance to Portcullis House, by Victoria Embankment, the newly installed updated security screening was in place, bag searches and metal detectors all over the body, but, being a Special Branch detective, I was hurried through and allowed to keep my shoulder weapon. I refused being shown upstairs to the office Charles Garlinge shared with three other Tory backbench MPs. I knew the way; this was not my first visit to Portcullis.

  Garlinge’s office on the second floor was small, brightly lit, very functional and crowded, with each of the four desks piled high with files, laptops and papers, as well as magazines, newspapers and copies of Hansard. Sadly, there was no view of the Thames, just the inner courtyard and the block opposite. I recognised Garlinge from the picture on his file. He stood to greet me as I approached his desk.

  He was fifty-one, a little
shorter than me, hair neatly styled and looking as though it’d been expensively trimmed. He was dressed in a narrow-cut, pinstriped, dark blue suit, pale blue shirt and black tie, and smelt of expensive cologne. Richard Clements would say he was an identikit Tory MP following the same gilded path into Government as generations of others before him: public school, Oxbridge, the army, several years working in senior management for a well-connected business like Bartolome Systems, then morphing almost seamlessly into an MP in one of the three safest Tory seats in Hertfordshire, if not the whole country.

  I introduced myself and showed ID. He put in a call to someone to ask for two teas, and I sat down without waiting to be asked. My phone buzzed whilst he was talking on the intercom. It was Taylor, saying she was going to be late back this evening, so was I available for lunch? I texted I’d get back to her when I finished here.

  As I switched off, Garlinge’s secretary brought in the teas. He waited until she’d given us one each, then, before I could ask any questions, he began.

  “You said you wanted to discuss the claims Armswatch’s made about me. What do you know of my situation so far?”

  It was interesting he’d begun this way. No indignation, no look of hurt pride. He seemed quite calm about my presence.

  “Only what you’ve stated about Armswatch making allegations concerning whatever it is you’re supposed to have done,” I began neutrally, without mentioning I’d just come from Armswatch’s offices. “So what I’d like is for you to start from the beginning; tell me what the situation is here. When did this all begin?”

  He sat forward in his seat. I wasn’t certain if he was looking nervous or smirking. His face was hard to read.

  Ten days ago, he said, he’d been working in this very room and had received a call on his office phone. The caller had introduced herself as Ms Cassie Anderson, representing a group called Armswatch, and she’d started by saying, We know all about Bozetti. She’d then gone on to say she knew where the weapons sold to Bozetti had ended up, and Armswatch knew the End User Certificate, the official document signed by the requisite Government minister authorising weapons to be sold abroad, had been obtained under false pretences. She’d also said she knew money had unlawfully changed hands to ensure this particular deal went through, and it’d been sanctioned at the very top by Bartolome’s board, with moneys being drawn on what she’d referred to as a slush fund. She’d stated Armswatch could prove everything they were claiming because they’d acquired documentary evidence of bribes being paid and received, plus other incriminating documents.

  He stopped there. This wasn’t too dissimilar from what Nick Graves had recently told me. But, whilst I’d been almost impressed with the missionary zeal possessed by Graves when he spoke, Garlinge spoke like this was all an inconvenience he didn’t have the time for.

  “This is all she said?”

  “Isn’t this damning enough?” He looked and sounded concerned.

  “Only if it’s true,” I replied. “Is it?”

  “I refuse to dignify this kind of rubbish with a comment.” He stared straight at me. It was interesting he hadn’t denied anything claimed.

  “If the matter’s deemed sufficiently important to warrant further investigation, you may well have to. Special Branch has already spoken to Armswatch,” – I didn’t say it was me – “and they claim they’ve verifiable evidence of Bartolome’s top management sanctioning the usage of bribery. They’re also claiming you took money and didn’t declare it.”

  “Of course nothing was declared,” he said, sitting forward, “because there was nothing to declare.” His tone was indignant.

  “At this stage the concern is probably with their possession of confidential documentation which could be used to cause potential harm to national security. There’s a bigger picture here, but it’s a separate issue for the moment.” At this point I wasn’t sure this was the case, but I wanted him to open up. “So, the first thing I need to know is, have they got a point when they talk about bribery and corrupt business practices? Because they say they’re proposing to make what they have available to the Serious Fraud Office, as well as the media. If that happens, there’ll quite likely be a major inquiry launched, and you know what that’ll mean. Bartolome does a lot of business with government, and there’ll be all kinds of political and security issues if any government is seen to be condoning corruption.”

  He sat in silent contemplation, looking down at his cluttered desktop for several seconds. I was wondering if he’d even heard what I’d just said. His hands were pressed together at his fingertips and the points of his middle fingers touching his nose, as though he was waiting to receive Holy Communion or praying. If everything Nick Graves had told me was correct, he might well have to pray.

  After several seconds he looked up at me. “May I speak frankly, detective, and without prejudice?”

  I said I’d prefer him to speak frankly, but I emphasised to him I was duty-bound to report all salient details in every investigation the Branch undertook to my superior officer. He nodded, but his facial expression suggested mild disappointment, as though, in some way, I was letting the side down and not playing the game.

  “What do you know about Bartolome Systems, or the arms trade in general?” he asked.

  “Only what I read in the papers,” I replied.

  This wasn’t wholly true. I actually knew quite a bit about Bartolome Systems, but, for the moment, I wasn’t going to let on I did. When I’d been investigating Commander Neville Thornwyn, I’d discovered confidential material belonging to the company had been taken by Paul Sampson, because he was being blackmailed by Thornwyn. I wondered whether this information included details relating to bribery and corruption, and, if so, what did Thornwyn know? Sampson had been planning to give a major interview just before he’d died, and I’d wondered then whether he was silenced because he intended to release such information into the public domain. I might well have to talk to Thornwyn again later.

  “Okay. I’d appreciate you not spreading around what I’m going to tell you.” He looked at me enquiringly.

  I agreed only my superior officer would be told; he’d need to know if the matter was going to be taken further. He accepted my caveat.

  “A little while back, just before the time I left the company after my election to Parliament, Bartolome Systems came very close to going out of business, very close indeed” – he fixed me with a firm stare – “and it was only saved from going under by a Government-sanctioned financial package. It’s a long story how all this happened, but that’s a discussion for another day.” He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “Bartolome Systems, as you may be aware, is a very significant player in the arms industry. We have considerable strategic and political importance in the providing of weaponry and other armaments to the British military, as well as to others inside the NATO alliance.”

  I was intrigued by his use of the pronoun we in talking about the situation, as though he and Bartolome Systems were indivisible. He didn’t even work for the company any longer.

  “The details of the rescue package were never made public because, as you’re probably aware, it’s contrary to European law for any government to rescue companies in the private sector like this, but in the real world, detective, no government in a country like this is going to sit back and allow a firm with the strategic importance of Bartolome Systems to go under.” He stressed this strongly. “That’s just not how the real world works, so some kind of complicated financial package was put together between the Government and the banks to help ensure the company’s survival. Bartolome receives what is dressed up in the accounts to look like a bank loan but is, in actual fact, a sizeable cash injection given with the sole purpose of keeping the firm afloat.”

  I didn’t know any of the specific financial details, but I’d been made aware of Bartolome’s financial predicament and that it had needed to be rescued. I’d learnt this from Richard Clements, who had discovered that Paul Samps
on, before his death, had been involved in a number of suspicious deals in the Middle East because the company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.

  “But being rescued is pointless unless you’re actually doing business to help ensure such a position never arises again,” he went on, “so the company began pursuing orders from other firms and governments. Bartolome has a very considerable market presence and a good working relationship with several clients in the Middle East, including partnerships with national governments, so we focused on that part of the world.”

  “Is this where the issue with Bozetti arose?”

  He pursed his lips and nodded slightly, looking like he was engaging in something deeply contemplative. “Did Armswatch tell Special Branch about Bozetti?”

  “No, you just did.” I smiled. “They’ve said nothing to us about it.”

  He sat quietly for a few seconds.

  “Well, for obvious reasons, I can’t really say too much about this.” He looked apologetic, as though he thought he’d just offended me.

  “Bozetti has to mean something if Armswatch considers it important enough to mention it to you.”

  He didn’t respond for a few moments. I waited for him to decide what to do. After several seconds I thought he needed a prompt.

  “Did weapons end up going someplace other than where the End User Certificate said they would? If not, why would Armswatch be making such a claim? Who or what is Bozetti? Is it a business? A type of weapon?” I could find out, but I needed to hear what he had to say.

  But, again, he was silent for several seconds. Time to focus him.

  “Are you denying there’s any truth at all in Armswatch’s allegations? According to them, they’ve been sent details of you receiving and paying bribes from someone inside the arms trade, and they’re obviously confident enough in what they know to imply they’ll go public with their claims. As far as we’re aware, no one’s suggesting Armswatch has acted unlawfully in obtaining what’s quite likely confidential information.”