Cashback

by Duncan James

  ***

  Gill and Marian had intended to set of early, so that they would have no problems with parking. Guildford was always a busy town, but especially so on a Saturday. It suited Robin, too, as he always liked to be on the river early if he could, to catch the morning hatch if there was to be one. He had slept like a log, what with all the stress of the past few weeks, and a good dinner with one of Denis's better wines, but he was away from the house just after eight, hamper in the boot, and his rod and tackle on the back seat of the Mini. Denis was left to wash up after breakfast, a hurried affair of croissant and coffee, and then to mow the lawns. Digger had been hoping for a long walk with rabbits to chase, like the good old days, and was not too pleased to be left at home when everyone else was out and about. Later, perhaps, or tomorrow. He was actually well enough trained to be taken fishing sometimes, but Robin knew that there would be cows in the fields on this beat, and that would be tempting providence. Besides, he wanted to enjoy his fishing without having to worry about what his dog was up to.

  When he got to Fullerton, he opened the gate of the field that bordered onto the river, and drove carefully across it so as not to damage his low-slung car on the deep potholes, which he knew lay under the long grass. He was relieved to see that the herd of cows which usually grazed there was way over the far side of the field under the shade of an old tree. He wasn't sure he altogether trusted cows, although they appeared docile enough. Frank's car was already parked there, so he quickly changed into his waders and put his rod together. Frank was not too far away, and, as Robin approached, he could see that there was already a decent sized brown trout lying in the wet grass.

  Frank retrieved his fly quickly on seeing Robin approach, and walked towards him.

  "Hope you don't mind me starting before you got here," he shouted. "Couldn't resist trying a Grey Wulff at this chap" - he motioned towards the trout on the bank - "and he took it after only a couple of casts."

  They shook hands warmly. "So good of you to let me join you," said Robin.

  "Not at all," replied the Padre. "It's always nice to have your company on the river. There's a flask of coffee in the car if you'd like one."

  "Not likely," replied Robin. "I've got some catching up to do. I've brought lunch, as Mother said I would."

  "And I've brought the grog!" replied Frank. "I suggest we work the Anton here before lunch, and then try the Test over the road afterwards, if you want. It often fishes better in the afternoon than in the morning, for some reason."

  "Suits me fine," replied Robin. "And there are a couple of things I want to talk over with you over lunch, if I may."

  "So I heard," replied Frank Tucker. "I've guessed that you want me to arrange a wedding - is that right?"

  Robin laughed. "Not yet," he replied, "but perhaps sometime after we've graduated. No - I really have something of a moral dilemma I'd like your views about. But during lunch, if you don't mind. Is that a trout or a grayling under the opposite bank down there?"

  "Ah, I see it. Trout I think. Have a go, and I'll go ahead of you up-stream. I shan't spook the fish, if I can help it, and won't cast a line until fifty yards or so beyond the bridge, so you can follow me up. I suggest we meet up for lunch about twelve thirty."

  Which is what they did.

  Robin's first cast landed a bit too close to the trout, and had soon drifted past it. Fortunately, it was not close enough to frighten it. He managed to put the second cast further upstream of the fish, and the current brought the fly nicely downstream, just to one side of it. The trout turned to watch the fly glide past, but made no attempt to take it. Robin's third cast landed almost on top of the fish with a 'plop', which sent the trout shooting upstream, away from his lie and out of danger. Robin cursed quietly under his breath. Out of practice, he thought.

  And so he worked his way upstream, sometimes casting at visible fish, at other times casting at likely spots where fish could be lying under the bank or on the edge of the weed bed. He occasionally caught sight of Frank, ahead of him, mostly stalking fish from the bank, whereas Robin preferred to wade.

  By lunchtime, when they met up again at the cars, Robin had landed a nice brown trout of about a pound and a half, as well as a couple of small grayling which he had returned.

  "I've had a few grayling as well," said Frank, "but no more trout yet. The grayling can be a bit of a nuisance, darting out at your fly and frightening off any trout you may be trying for. But it's all good sport."

  "And wonderfully relaxing," said Robin, as he wrestled the hamper out of his boot. "You can't really think about anything else while you're fishing, can you? Just what I needed."

  "I hope your mother hasn't gone mad as she usually does with a picnic," said the Padre. "Packs so much food, there's hardly any time left for fishing! Let's have a drink - wine or beer?"

  "A glass of wine would be nice, thanks," replied Robin. "Now, what have we here!"

  "Enough for us and all the swans and ducks on the river, by the look of it!" said Frank as he peered into the basket while struggling with the cork.

  Before long, they were tucking in to chicken legs, sausages, and large chunks of Melton Mowbray pork pie, washed down with a glass of decent red wine.

  "Now," said Frank eventually. "If you don't want me to fix a wedding, what do you want to chat about? Your mother will be disappointed, you know - she's quite sure that's what this is all about! She's very fond of Marian, and from what she has told me, she thinks the girl would make you an excellent wife!"

  Robin grinned. "All in good time," he said. "We've got to graduate first, then have a break - a sort of gap year - then perhaps we'll think about getting married."

  The Padre nodded. "Sounds very sensible to me," he said. "And you will need to have some sort of future career planned out as well, I should think."

  "And that's what I wanted to talk to you about, indirectly," said Robin, as Frank topped up his glass. "As my parents may have told you, I'm a bit of a computer 'geek', as we are called! I'm studying computer science and plan to make my living working in computer development if I can. At first, I had thought that I would go into the advertising industry, as I'm very interested in computer graphics, and it's quite amazing what you can do with them creatively in that area. But the more I've studied at Oxford, the more I've become interested in computer security systems, especially those used in the banking world. Credit and debit cards, for instance, have always seemed to me to be a particularly risky part of the banks' activities, even after the introduction of the chip and PIN system. Getting access to the banks' computer system and its cash simply by shoving a piece of plastic into a hole in the wall just doesn't seem to me to be at all secure, so I set about trying to break down the system and its security safeguards."

  Robin went on to describe how he eventually managed to develop two cards, one of which allowed him to take money from other peoples' accounts, while the other gave him direct access to the cash machine's store of notes and allowed him to withdraw cash without debiting any individual's account.

  Frank listened intently to all this, without commenting or interrupting.

  "Marian and I were able to test the first card simply by withdrawing cash from one another's accounts. We haven't taken money from the accounts of complete strangers, although I am quite sure we could if we tried, but we are determined not to profit directly from this potential fraud, but only from the development of security measures that can prevent it or circumvent it. But the problem is that, in order to develop counter-measures, one has to develop the potential fraud in the first place, just to prove, eventually, that the counter-measure is necessary. Otherwise, one would never sell it to the banks,"

  Frank nodded.

  "The second card I developed, however, allows me to take money direct from the bank. It circumvents the need to tap in a PIN number or any other kind of personal code or information about any individual. So, to test this system, we have had to take cash from the banks, although only small amounts -
so far, a tenner a time from five different banks. Marian, bless her, is keeping meticulous records of every transaction we make, but we can't just walk in to a bank and hand over a ten pound note we've just taken illegally from their machine outside. What we have done up to now is donate the money to charity, but that doesn't alter the fact that it's money which I've nicked."

  "And that's your moral dilemma, is it?" asked Frank.

  "That's only part of it," replied Robin. "It seems clear to me that, if you can get into a bank's computer and take money from it illegally by using a card at their cash machines, then you should also be able to get into the system without a card, using a computer. In general terms, that sort of thing is called 'hacking' - that is, breaking into someone else's computer without their help or knowledge, either out of curiosity, or deliberately to cause harm. It's quite a popular hobby, but can be very serious. Last year, for instance, there were over fifty thousand attempts to break into the US Defence Department's computer system, mostly by youngsters probably, but some of them undoubtedly hostile. So you can see that computer security is big business, and that's the business I want to be in, I think. No doubt lots of people have tried to get into the computers run by the banking world, and I plan to join them. I'm quite sure that it must be possible to do it, and when I have, I can then develop a counter-measure that the banks, hopefully, will want to buy."

  The Padre frowned. "I had no real idea that this sort of thing went on, or the scale of it," he said. "How sad that people with such obvious skills should deliberately mis-use them, rather than put them to good use for the benefit of their fellow men."

  "Sad indeed," agreed Robin.? "But this brings me to my real dilemma."

  He paused to gather his thoughts.

  "Not worth taking dregs home," said Frank, as he poured another glass of wine.

  "The problem simply is this," continued Robin. "I need to be able to find the system's weakness in order to strengthen it, and I need to be able to demonstrate that the system is flawed. Otherwise, it will be like - well - like inventing a cure for which there is no known disease."

  "But you don't know yet whether the system has that weakness," said Frank.

  "Not yet, although I'm almost sure it does. I suspected that the hole-in-the-wall machines were vulnerable, and I have been able to prove that they are. I'm sure, too, that the same flaw must permeate through the whole of the banking systems' computer network. But if I find that weak point, I shall need to be able to move large sums of money about to prove it - and I simply don't have large sums of money of my own to play with."

  "Why do you need large sums?" asked the Padre. "Surely, moving any sum would be enough to convince the banks that they needed to take action?"

  "I doubt it," replied Robin. "Taking a tenner here and there out of their cash machines wouldn't be noticed, and neither will moving ten quid at a time through the computer network. I need to be able to shift sums of money large enough for them to sit up and take notice. But if I do that too soon, using their money, I shall not have had the time to write and develop a programme which will fix the problem, and that's what I shall want them to buy. The only way to avoid them becoming suspicious is to use cash of my own, and I don't have any."

  "What sort of sums are you talking about?" asked Frank.

  "Tens of thousands, I should think," replied Robin.

  "I hope you're not asking me for a loan," said Frank, only half joking.

  "No, of course not," replied Robin with a grin. "But given that I have no choice but to use the banks' money, I needed to talk it through with someone I could trust, and I rather wanted your view about the ethics of it, too."

  "But you will only need to use the banks' money, or your own if you had it, if you succeed in finding this weakness which you believe exists in the banking system."

  "Absolutely," replied Robin.

  "I need to think about all this, young man," said Frank, after a moment. "I certainly couldn't condone theft for a moment, as you would expect, and I'm not at all sure at the moment, either, about taking money 'on loan', so the speak, without authority. That's basically what you have in mind, if I've understood things correctly? What you take, to move around, you or Marian carefully record, so that it can eventually all be restored to its rightful owner. Right?"

  "Absolutely," agreed Robin again.

  "Hmmm. As I said, I need to think about this for a bit. Let's pack up the picnic, and do a bit more fishing."

  "Good idea," said Robin. "I hope you don't mind me seeking your views, but I didn't want at the moment to discuss it with Mum and Dad until I'd talked it over with you."

  "No problem," replied the Padre. "I can't stay too late - I haven't finished my sermon for tomorrow, yet. In fact, you might just have suggested a completely new theme for me!"

  "It's such a pity you can't join us for lunch tomorrow," said Robin.

  "Some people will tell you that Sunday is the only day of the week I do any real work!" replied Frank. "So I just couldn't get away, much I would have wanted to."

  "Good grief - look what I've found!" said Robin as he put the hamper into the boot of his car. "Smoked salmon sandwiches in thin brown bread, with the crusts cut off!"

  "Just like your Mother," said Frank. "We'll have to eat the starter for tea! Let's meet back here at about five, shall we, for a quick cuppa before I shoot off. There's no reason why you shouldn't fish on after I've gone if you want to."

  "I'm sure I shall have had enough by then," said Robin. "And the family will be expecting me home for supper."

  "After that spread, I can't think where you'll put anything else!" said Frank.

  They met again, as planned, having each taken another fish during the afternoon. They chatted animatedly about their day, and Frank asked Robin about Oxford. It wasn't until just as they parted that Frank returned to the subject of their earlier discussion.

  "I've been giving a good deal of thought to your little problem since lunch," he said to Robin. "Which is why I only have one more fish in the bag - I missed two, because I wasn't concentrating!"

  "Sorry about that," said Robin. "I hope I haven't ruined your day for you."

  "Not in the least - it's all been thoroughly enjoyable, and I always welcome your company when fishing," replied Frank. "But my conclusion is that you really should use your own resources in pursuit of your goals, even if you have to borrow, rather than other people's. To do otherwise could not be morally justified. That's probably not what you had hoped to hear, is it?"

  "No," replied Robin, "but it is honestly what I thought you would say."

  Frank nodded. "You're a good lad," he said, "and obviously very bright. I'm sure you'll do what's best and what's right. You must let me know how you get on, and don't hesitate to chat things over again if it helps."

  "Thanks. I will. And thanks for your advice."

  As they prepared to leave, Frank leant out of his car window. "I shan't mention any of this to your father, but I suggest you do so, and soon. Tell him I said so."

  "I was going to anyway," replied Robin.

  "I know, but make sure you tell him I insisted on it. Understand?"

  "Understood," replied Robin, mystified. "And thanks for the fishing, too."

  Frank drove off across the bumpy field in his old Rover, leaving Robin to follow and close the gate on to the road. He drove home deep in thought, having already almost forgotten the day's fishing.

  Robin didn't get the chance to have a quiet word with his father until after lunch the next day. By the time he got back from fishing, the others were about ready to start their salad supper, but he insisted on gutting his two fish ready for the freezer before he changed. The girls had enjoyed their trip to the shops, and were keen to show off their purchases. Robin's mother seemed rather too keen to know how he had got on in his quiet chat with Frank Tucker, and from what Frank had said, Robin guessed why.

  "Since you ask, Mother," said Robin, "Frank was a very patient listener, and gave sensible and
helpful advice, as I had hoped."

  "So what have you decided?" asked Gill, fishing for news of a possible family wedding.

  "We didn't take any decisions," replied Robin. "I just wanted his views about a couple of ethical and moral issues that had occurred to me in relation to some computer work I am trying to develop, and he was very helpful."

  "Oh, is that all," she replied, obviously disappointed. His father looked across at him and winked.

  "If this is your new 'invention' that you've mentioned," said Denis, "then you must tell me all about it sometime."

  "I will. I want to do that, but perhaps we won't bore the others over supper," suggested Robin.

  What with that and washing up afterwards, Digger could see that the chances of a good walk that evening were fast disappearing. He'd helped with cutting the lawns, of course, and had a gentle stroll afterwards, but not the rabbit-hunting sort of tearing about walk he'd been hoping for. And he could tell that there would be visitors tomorrow, judging by all the unusual activity, and the smells, which he didn't altogether like, which had been coming from the kitchen. He ate his supper without much enthusiasm, and went back into the sitting room by the fire, a bit fed up with the way the weekend was turning out.

  A bit later on, Denis said, "Come on Digger, old chap - time for a quick turn round the block before bed. We'll have a decent walk tomorrow," he promised. "You're not in any rush to get back to Oxford are you?" he asked Marian. "I could drag Robin away after lunch, if that's OK, and give the dog a good run while he tells me all about his new project. The Bowmans don't usual stay too long."

  It had been a most enjoyable lunch, and the Bowmans were on good form. Of course, they had been interested to meet Marian and hear all about life at Oxford, but they had also wanted to learn how Denis was getting on now he was a fully signed up member of civvy street, and working at Farnborough. There was also a good deal of reminiscing about old times, which Marian found interesting, particularly as her family did not come from a military background.

  It was Sally Bowman who asked about her family, and what her father did.

  "Actually, I'm adopted," she explained to them. "My parents were both killed in a car crash when I was only an infant, but somehow I manage to survive it. I remember nothing of them, of course, and what I have always regarded as my real parents live near Nottingham. I have, though, decided to keep my proper surname, and not to change it to theirs, in spite of the fact that my adopted father is quite a wealthy local businessman. You may have heard of Sir Richard FitzWalter."

  "Indeed I have," said Charles Bowman. "Very well known, he is, and I believe highly respected in the City."

  "Also utterly charming," added Robin. "He and his wife made me feel immediately at home when I visited them a few months ago."

  "As your parents have, here," said Marian to Robin. "We really must try to organise a get-together sometime. I know they'd love to meet you both," she said to Denis and Gill.

  "Good idea. Perhaps London would be the best place to meet," suggested Denis. "It's probably easy for them to get to, as it is for us, and I could perhaps organise something at the RAF Club."

  "I'm sure they'd love that," said Marian.

  "I gather you saw that old rogue Frank Tucker yesterday?" said Charles to Robin.

  "Yes, I did. We had a great day on the river, fishing," replied Robin. "He was very disappointed he couldn't be here today to meet you again."

  "Such a pity," agreed Gill.

  "I can understand it," said Charles. "Sunday is the only day he ever does any real work!"

  "I hope we shall see you again before you disappear," Denis responded. "You're off quite soon, aren't you?"

  "Couple of months - not long now," replied the Group Captain. "I gather you two are planning a trip to Africa after you graduate?" he asked Robin.

  "We certainly hope to," replied Robin. "But we really haven't had time to make any detailed plans yet."

  "We shall have to get down to that soon, I suppose," said Marian. "But we thought East and South Africa would be good, combining a bit of teaching and a bit of sightseeing on our way round. There are people who can organise that for us, if ever we get round to contacting them."

  "Well, do let me know what you plan and where you will be, and if I can do anything to help with the organisation of your trip, just let me know," said Charles. "We must keep in touch so that perhaps you could visit us during your travels."

  "That would be really good - thank you," replied Robin. "But I'm not sure that Zimbabwe will be on our itinerary, in view of all the problems there."

  "It's certainly not the nicest country in Africa anymore, I'm told, but we would be able to look after you alright if you did decide just to have a quick look at Harare," offered Sally.

  "And I am accredited to Mozambique, Malawi and Zambia as well," added Charles, "so I shall be able to travel about a bit to meet you if necessary. Lusaka is a nice place, but I don't know Maputo or Lilongwe at all yet."

  "Or Harare, come to that," said Sally.

  "The last time I was there it was called Salisbury," grumbled Denis, and they all laughed, as the Bowmans made to leave for home.

  "If it's OK with you two girls," said Denis, when their lunch guests had gone, "Robin and I will take Digger for a walk and a chat, while you stack the dish washer. I want to hear about his latest project."

  Until then, the dog had been stretched out in front of the fire, but he had heard the words 'Digger' and 'walk' in the same sentence, so immediately came to life, and led the way out of the house towards the fields at the back. This was what he had been waiting for!

  Robin and his father ambled across the fields, deep in conversation, while Digger went off in all directions, hunting. Robin went over much the same ground as he had the previous day with Frank Tucker, explaining what it was he planned to attempt and his dilemma about the use of large sums of other people's cash, even if temporarily.

  "It was the moral and ethical issues involved in this project that I needed to take Frank's mind about," explained Robin.

  "Your mother was very disappointed when she heard that, y'know!" said Denis. "She was quite sure you wanted to discuss wedding arrangements with our Padre friend."

  "I rather gathered that, from what Frank said," replied Robin with a grin. "That will come later, I hope, although I haven't even asked Marian yet."

  "It doesn't look to me as if you'll have any problem there," replied his father. "But was Frank any help?"

  "Yes, he was," replied Robin, "although he said very much what I expected him to say, as a man of the cloth. But it was useful, anyway, and enabled me to get my own thoughts straight as well. But he did say something very odd just as we parted."

  "And what was that?" enquired his father.

  "I had already told Frank that I planned to discuss the project with you, but he insisted that I should do so," said Robin, frowning. "So far as I can remember, he said that I should tell you soon, and that I should tell you he said so. And when I said I was going to tell you anyway, he said I was to make sure I told you that he insisted on it. Does that make any sense to you, Dad?"

  Denis Hood looked closely at his son.

  "He gave you no clue why?" he asked.

  "No, none at all. It all seemed very odd to me, almost as if he knew something that I didn't know, but that it was important I told you all about the project as quickly as possible."

  Denis nodded. "I think I understand why he said that. I, too, confided in Frank some short time ago. I hadn't planned to tell you just yet, and Frank agreed that it was probably right not to. But from what he said to you yesterday, it seems he has changed his mind, having heard of your dilemma."

  Denis whistled at Digger, who by now was covered in mud, having unsuccessfully tried to dig out several rabbits from their burrows. He bounded towards the pair, with an almost pleading look on his face. 'Surely it wasn't time to go home already?' he seemed to say.

  "Don't stray too far off," Denis tol
d him, and he tore off again into the hedgerow.

  "So I may as well tell you now, since Frank seems to think I should," continued Denis. He paused to collect his thoughts.

  "It's about my old aunt, Aunt Gladys," said Denis.

  "How is she, by the way? I meant to ask."

  "She's not too bad at the moment," replied Robin's father. "Still in the nursing home, and really remarkably bright considering her age and health. But she concluded a few months ago that she was no longer as mentally alert as she used to be, and she asked me to take power of attorney over her affairs, since she never married and has no children or any other relative. Of course, I agreed," continued Denis, "but I was quite staggered by the wealth the old dear had accumulated. Much of it is still invested in shares or fixed income bonds, but a huge sum - and I mean huge - is deposited in a Dutch bank which operates in this country, and runs an interest-paying current account which is managed either over the phone or over the internet. The interest more than pays for her upkeep in the nursing home, and that is by no means cheap."

  "We always knew she was well of," said Robin. "She used to enjoy playing the stock market, I remember."

  "And played it very well indeed," said Denis. "Never used any sort of financial adviser, took her own decisions, and nine times out of ten made a bomb on everything she touched."

  "So why was Frank keen for you to tell me this?" asked Robin.

  "Because, naturally, I've now seen her will," replied his father. "She has kindly left me quite a handsome legacy, but the bulk of her estate she has left to you, my boy."

  "Good God!" exclaimed Robin.

  "You'll say that when you know how much it is worth," said Denis. "But I shall resist the temptation to tell you that now. That's why I had a word with Frank - to see what his view was about telling you, or whether it was best to let you make your own way in life for as long as Gladys lived. He thought it was, and I agreed."

  The two men had almost completed their circuit of the fields and woodland near the old farmhouse, and were nearly home.

  "What's changed, of course," said Robin's father, "is your possible need for a large sum of money to prove the success of your new development."

  "Now I begin to understand," said Robin.

  "It probably won't be too long before Gladys has to move on, perhaps into a hospice," continued Denis. "There's a good one just outside Farnham, so I shall try to get her settled there when the time comes."

  "I was always very keen on Aunt Gladys, but somehow never felt close to her," said Robin. "She only ever seemed to want to talk about the share market and the stock exchange and that sort of thing, and of course I really didn't understand any of it."

  "The point is, though," continued his father, "that when you do need some capital, it can be made available without you having to use money which is not rightly yours. If and when you get to that stage, we'll talk again, and I'll see what I can arrange with my 'power of attorney' hat on."

  "I just don't know what to say," said Robin emotionally.??

  They ambled on towards the farmhouse, much to the disgust of Digger, who followed reluctantly.

  "I have another dilemma, now," said Robin.

  "Whether to tell Marian?" asked his father.

  "Exactly," replied Robin.

  "I think my advice would be not to tell her yet. She is obviously very fond of you, and that is based on you, as you are now, a student with exams to pass and a business to form and a living to make in some way or other. Don't risk the thought of future wealth tainting that relationship, until you are quite sure it is totally sound and secure."

  "You mean I should be sure she loves me for what I am, not what I have?"

  "Precisely."

  "I shall feel a bit of a cheat, not telling her. We share everything at the moment," said Robin. "She may feel I don't trust her when she does learn about it. Besides, she comes from a wealthy family herself."

  "The right time to tell her is when your aunt passes on, and you know officially the contents of her will. Until then, you are not to know what the future holds, are you?" advised Denis, sagely. "And indeed you don't know, since I haven't told you the sum of money involved."

  "I suppose you're right," said Robin reluctantly.

  Marian came to meet them at the end of the garden, and Digger bounded over to her with great excitement.

  "He's had a great time," said Robin, "but didn't unearth any rabbits!"

  "Now at least I can see how he got his name!" she said, brushing the sandy soil off her jeans.

  Denis paused as he closed the garden gate that led into the fields beyond, and watched his son and Marian, arm in arm, walk towards the house, with the dog prancing excitedly around them. A contented scene, if ever he saw one.

  It was probably best, he thought, that Robin didn't know that he would soon be a millionaire.?

  7. FRIENDS IN NEED?

  Robin and Marian were sitting at a table at The Thorn Tree Cafe in central Nairobi, outside the New Stanley Hotel. Not that they were staying there. That would have been a bit too extravagant - it was a five star hotel, and one of the best in the City, in fact. But they had been to the coffee bar before, for a quiet drink or a snack, and to enjoy the atmosphere. Robin could imagine it in the 'colonial' days, when there would have been rattan chairs on the pavement outside the hotel, rather than the present green plastic ones. In those days, it would have been rather grand, rather expensive, and rather up-market, frequented by white settlers with time and money to spend. It was still quite a centre of social activity, and a good spot from which to observe the bustle of a once grand, but now rather neglected, capital city.

  Their so-called gap year was going fast. After graduating, they had spent a leisurely month at home, planning their trip to Africa and relaxing after the stress of their exams. They had decided to start in Kenya and work their way south, without any particular target in view, apart from seeing as much as they could, without rushing, of an enormous continent. Their only commitments were teaching at a few selected schools and colleges during their trip. Marian was to teach English, and Robin was committed to giving some basic tuition in computer skills at a couple of senior schools and further education colleges.

  Which was why they were in Nairobi. They had been there nearly a month already, undertaking their lecturing commitments. They were enjoying it.

  "I can't get over how tremendously rewarding it is," commented Marian. "We are made so welcome, and the kids listen with such wrapped attention - almost enjoyment. I'm so glad we came."

  Robin sipped his iced coffee. "I can't believe teaching is as easy as this back in the UK," responded Robin, "judging by what you read in the papers about our inner city schools. But here, they actually seem to want to learn."

  "It's interesting that we both find the same attitude. I'm teaching youngsters at Secondary school, and you're lecturing senior pupils at Technical College, but they all seem to have the same hunger for knowledge."

  "We also represent something of a curiosity value as well, don't forget," said Robin. "It's not often they get graduates from Oxford giving them lessons here."

  "I suppose that's true," agreed Marian. "But it's very gratifying, just the same."

  "I'm afraid my lectures about computers have had to be watered down quite a bit," said Robin. "There isn't the same level of basic knowledge as I was expecting, and not so many computers about, either. But all my classes are so keen; I somehow wish we could do more."

  "It must be even more basic, I should think, 'up-country' as they say," pondered Marian.

  "I imagine you're right," agreed Robin. "Some of the village schools don't have computers at all worth speaking about, so I've heard."

  "Perhaps not even much in the way of a reliable electricity supply," suggested Marian.

  "It would be nice to be able to provide one for every school, wouldn't it? It would eventually help the whole country get into the 21st century."

  "There are other countries on this c
ontinent much worse off than this one," said Marian.

  They chatted on, as they always did when together, happy and relaxed in one another's company.

  "I do wish we could stay here, you know," said Marian longingly, looking over her shoulder. "This hotel looks simply wonderful inside. It would give us so much more time to look at all the shops - there are some wonderful things we could take home as gifts for our parents, judging from a quick look at the shops round the corner the other day."

  "Perhaps on the way back at the end of our tour, if you'd really like to," responded Robin. "We could spoil ourselves!"

  "We are already planning to do that at Livingstone," Marian reminded him. "We shouldn't waste money, you know."

  The fact was that they could easily have afforded to stay there if they had really wanted to, as Robin's settlement from Microsoft, plus the income from a couple of other computer programmes he had marketed since, had actually brought him considerable sums of money. And Robin knew that his aunt was to leave him quite well of as well, although he had taken his father's advice and not yet confided in Marian. But they were on their gap year, so they thought it only right to behave like every other back-packer doing the same thing.

  Robin had been lucky so far, but he couldn't be sure how long that would last, or how well he would do in the future. The world of computers was a fast moving one, and it was not enough just to keep up with it. To make a living from it, one had to keep ahead of everyone else.

  Which is why he had determined to complete his degree course, in spite of pressure from Rupert and others.

  "If you can earn good money without a degree," went the argument, "why bother with it. If it was me," said Freddy, not for the first time, "I'd jack it in and get on with life."

  But Robin knew better than that. There was still so much to be learnt, and Oxford was one of the best places to learn it. He had already decided to set up on his own, if he could, and not after all to go into computer graphics in the advertising world, although this would be an interesting fallback if he had to. His tutors had encouraged him as best they could, and now he had a double first, he felt the world was at his feet. Some of the Dons had tried to persuade him to stay on at Oxford and work for a PhD, but he had decided that, for the time being at least, he wanted to get away from academia. And yet, here he was in Africa, teaching eager young Kenyans how computers worked and how to use them.

  A softly spoken young African interrupted Robin's thoughts.??

  "Can I offer you both another coffee? Or perhaps something stronger?"

  Robin and Marian looked up to see a tall, dignified and smartly dressed young African man, with a broad smile, standing at the side of their table. Robin had noticed him hovering near the cafe for some time, and had hoped that the youth was not intent on any trouble. Robin was aware of the high levels of crime in the city. But people often loitered around the Thorn Tree. With its famous acacia thorn tree message board, it was one of Africa's best-known meeting places.

  "I should perhaps introduce myself first," he said, apologetically. "My name is Bwonqa Mbele, and I have had the pleasure of being at all your lectures, sir," he said to Robin.

  The couple noticed how courteous and well spoken he was, and Robin's fears were immediately dispelled

  "Please join us," said Robin, "This is my partner, Marian Maidment," he said, introducing them.

  The young black man solemnly shook her proffered hand and gave a slight bow of his head.

  "If you're sure I'm not interrupting or intruding," he said, "I would very much like to join you for a short while."

  He pulled up a third chair to the table and motioned to the hovering waiter.

  "I must explain myself," he said when they had ordered. "I have been enthralled by your lectures, sir," he continued, "and had so many questions I wanted to ask, but dared not for fear of wasting your time and the time of my fellow students."

  "Never worry about wasting my time," said Robin. "I'm here to help as many of you as I can during my short stay." He looked across at Marian. "I should say 'our' stay," he corrected himself. "Marian and I are both graduates from Oxford, and she is teaching English during our travels in Africa, while I teach about computers."

  "Computers are a mystery to me," said the young African, "although thanks to you, not such a great mystery as they were. But the more I learn of what they can do, the more I wonder if they can really help with a serious problem I face."

  "What sort of problem?" asked Robin.

  "Before I tell you that, sir, I must tell you a little about myself, if I may, otherwise you will not understand my question."

  "Please don't call me sir," pleaded Robin. "You make me feel a hundred years old! And please do tell me how you think I may be able help."

  The waiter arrived with their new drinks, and cleared away the empty glasses.

  "There are three things you should know straight away," said Bwonqa, when the man had left them. "First of all, I am from Zimbabwe, not Kenya. Second, I know nothing about computers or mathematics, because I come from a farming background and had only a basic education at our village church school. I am not a full-time student here, but I heard about your lectures and managed to enrol specially for them. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, the information I seek is to help right a most grievous wrong, and not to commit any crime - without telling you that, you will think I am little better than a modern robber. A good friend of mine is also trying to put right this injustice, but he is at risk of getting on the wrong side of the law in Zimbabwe, and ending up in one of their terrible prisons. If I can find a different solution to this problem, which we share, then I shall help him to avoid that fate at the same time."

  "This sounds quite serious," commented Marian, frowning. "Do tell us more, and I'm sure we will help all we can, providing you are not asking us to break the law."

  Robin nodded. "And you think the answer to this problem rests in computers?" he asked.

  "That's what I hope to learn from you," replied Bwonqa.? "I want to know if the use of computers can help, and if so, how it might be arranged. They say you are a clever man with computers and have already invented things for them. Perhaps you can invent something which will help me and my good friend."

  "Tell us about your friend," suggested Marian.

  "My friend is in Nairobi too," replied Bwonqa, "You shall meet him. But first, let me see if you can help."

  "Go ahead," said Robin, sipping his drink. "I promise not to interrupt."

  The young African took a deep breath, his brow creased in a frown.

  "You will have read about the plight of the white farmers in my country," began Bwonqa. "The Government has plotted to chase them from their land without compensation, and for the land to be given to black people. Many of the new owners are friends or associates of Government Ministers, and almost none of them knows about farming. The result is that the land is producing weeds not crops, and the country has been bankrupted. Millions of people have left for neighbouring countries in an effort to earn a living. Some of the white farmers have stayed in Zimbabwe, in the hope one day of being able to take back possession of their land, but others have also left to start again in other places."

  Bwonqa sighed and shook his head sadly.

  "My own father was a farm Manager on a large and very prosperous farm. The owner, a white farmer whose family had lived and worked in Zimbabwe for generations, was among those evicted. His ancestors had dammed the creek and built an irrigation system for the farm, and had laid the foundations of the village where my family lived, together with the families of all the other farm workers. There were shops, a church, the school where I was educated - everything, and the farm owner, Mr. Bartlett, contributed large sums of money to keep everything going. Now he has gone, so has everything else. The farm is barren, the animals have died or been slaughtered for the pot, and the seed corn eaten rather than having been sown. Not that it would have grown, as the soil is dry and arid since the irrigation system
failed after the pumps were looted, and the new 'war veteran' owners know nothing about farming anyway. Most of them can't even grow enough food from their plots of land to keep themselves fed, and they certainly have no income to buy extra."

  The young man had tears in his eyes as he continued.

  "Before he finally left Zimbabwe, Mr. Bartlett gave the old farmstead and some land around it to my father. My father was an old man, but had spent his life working on the farm, as Mr. Bartlett had done, and indeed as I would have done after leaving school. Not that my father could do anything about taking possession of it, as a local Government Minister from Bulawayo commandeered the place, and moved in and lived there. But my father hoped that, in time, he would be able to claim it legally and perhaps start repairing some of the harm that had been done, to get the farm going again.

  "Last year," continued Bwonqa, "it was learnt that the Minister had decided that he no longer wanted to live in the old house, as he had been given another Government post, so my father gathered together all the legal papers and went to the homestead to claim it for himself. I wasn't with him, but it seems there was a terrible row, and eventually the Minister called for help from the band of 'war veterans', who were always loitering nearby. For some reason, there was a fight, and eventually the men beat my father with sticks and machete. Someone managed to get him to the local clinic, but he died of his injuries."

  The three were silent for a minute.

  "What an appalling story," said Robin.

  "We hear about these things, of course," said Marian, "but I never thought I would hear of such an incident first hand. I am so sorry for you," she said, reaching out across the table to touch the young man's arm.

  "But I am at a loss to work out what you think we can do," said Robin.

  "I shall come to that now," said Bwonqa, composing himself. "Legally speaking, the farmstead and the land around it is now mine, but I dare not try to take possession in case I suffer the same fate as my father. In any case, I have no resources to rebuild the farm, even if I could move in, so that is out of the question for the time being. But Mr. Bartlett, as I said, was evicted from his ancestral home without compensation. The farm was worth millions, and he left to start a new life as best he could with virtually nothing. Most of his possessions have been looted, but I believe he still has considerable sums of money in the bank. The laws of Zimbabwe make it impossible for him to take that money out of the country. I would like to try to return that money to him in some way, and secure proper compensation for him."

  Bwonqa looked appealingly at Robin, who sat in stunned silence.

  "And you think I may be able to help you do that?" he asked, incredulously.

  The young Zimbabwean nodded.

  "In God's name, how?" asked Robin.

  "All that money, and more, rests in Zimbabwe's banks," said Bwonqa. "Either in the exchequer, or in the accounts of the President and his cronies. Banks have computers, and you are good at computers."

  He sat back, waiting for a reaction.

  Robin looked at Marian. She knew what he was thinking. Robin and his friend and potential business partner, Jim Farlow, had already been taking an interest in banking computer systems while they were at Oxford. But this was asking too much, too soon.

  He looked hard at his young and trusting admirer across the table, who was expecting so much of him after suffering at the hands of so much evil. What Bwonqa wanted was plainly illegal, even if it was possible, and Robin knew from what he had said earlier that the man realised that. And yet, he only wanted to right an injustice. In his simple logic, two 'wrongs' could be made to equal a 'right'.

  "I understand exactly what you are asking," said Robin. "And you are right in thinking that it should be possible to break into the banks' computer systems and move the money back to its rightful owner. But it would be illegal. Breaking into other people's computers is called 'hacking', and there are many clever people who mis-use their skills to hack into computers. Some do it for fun; some do it with malicious intent. They all cause considerable disruption one way or the other, and they are all breaking the law."

  He paused. The young man sitting across the table from him was still looking appealingly, almost eagerly, at Robin, as if willing him to say that he could and would help.

  "Breaking into a computer is like breaking into a house or an office," continued Robin. "In the same way that some houses and office buildings have better security systems than others, so do computers. Those used by banks are the most complex and secure you can find. I am afraid that I am not clever enough to do what you asked, even if I thought it was right."

  Both Robin and Marian were upset to see the deep disappointment etched on the young African's face, as he slumped back in his chair.

  "I'm so sorry," said Marian. "But perhaps there is some other way we can help?"

  "I'm sure there must be something we can do," agreed Robin. "Let's talk about it more, and perhaps something will occur to us which you haven't yet thought of."

  "I can see no other way, frankly," said Bwonqa. "Short of mounting a bank robbery, or breaking into the homes of the President and his Ministers, using computers has always seemed to me to be the only way to return this stolen property to its rightful owners."

  "You could be right," agreed Robin, "but even ignoring the legality of that approach, getting into the banks' computers would be fiendishly difficult. They are among the most complex and sophisticated systems ever developed, although I couldn't begin to explain to you how they work, I'm afraid. You will simply have to take my word for it that, like their physical security, the computer security systems used by the banks are nigh on impregnable."

  "But you could try?" pleaded the young man. "I know people who could help - people who work in the Government and who work in banks. They could probably give you information that would help you. Like me," he hesitated, and looked around him. "Like me," he continued, leaning forward and almost whispering, "they hate our Government, and all that it has done to ruin our lovely country, enough to take the risk."

  "It would certainly take a good deal of inside help if it were to be attempted," said Robin. "And I'm not saying that what you ask is impossible - it certainly should be possible, given the time and the skills."

  At that moment, they were interrupted by a shout from across the street, loud enough to be heard above the traffic of Kenyatta Avenue.

  "Bonkers!" bellowed a young man, waving frantically towards them. "Bonkers! I've been looking all over town for you!"

  "That's the friend I was telling you about," grinned the young African. "He has called me that since we were children together on the farm - he never could pronounce my name!"

  Bwonqa Mbele waved the man across the road to join them.

  A rather breathless, but obviously very fit man, dodged his way through the traffic, darted across the pavement, dragged a chair to their table and slumped into it, almost in one continuous movement, grinning broadly.

  "Let me introduce my very best friend," said the young African. "This is Will Bartlett, son of the white farmer I was telling you about, and who I hoped you might also be able to help."

  They shook hands all round, and Will, spotting a passing waiter, shouted "Beer!" and held up four fingers.

  "Cold lager all right?" he asked Robin and Marian. They nodded.

  "Baridi 'Tusker'," he shouted after the man, who frowned and said, "Ndiyo, bwana".

  "For goodness sake, Will," said Bwonqa. "You really must stop behaving like that, and treat people with more courtesy. Your father would never speak like that to a servant."

  "Quite," replied Will. "And look what happened to my father. Perhaps if the white farmers had stood up for themselves a bit better, we wouldn't be in this state now."

  "What has happened to your father?" asked Marian, seeking to change the subject. "Your friend here was telling us about his eviction from the farm."

  "He's in South Africa now with my mother," replied Will, "working on a
friend's vineyard in the Western Cape. They seem happy enough, and have their own small bungalow on the estate, but my father is a broken man, really."

  "I have told them," said Bwonqa, "about the farm and how you have had to leave everything behind. Robin here is a genius with computers, and I was hoping he might be able to help us in some way."

  "And can you?" asked Will.

  "Probably not," replied Robin, and explained why.

  "It would certainly help if you could break into the banking computer systems," said Will, "although from what you say they are virtually impregnable. But although it may seem illegal, taking back from them what the blacks have stolen from you in the first place is certainly not a crime - at least, not in my book."

  "But your way is no better," said Bwonqa.

  "What is your way?" asked Robin.

  "I'm trying to gather together the cash, which I shall then take to my old man in plastic bags and suitcases - whatever."

  Bwonqa turned to Robin. "But that is equally illegal, and not at all practical, only Will cannot see that," he said.

  "It's also proving to be fiendishly difficult," admitted Will. "For a start, most of my father's wealth is - or was - tied up in the farm. He had quite a bit deposited in banks, but the Zimbabwean dollar is virtually worthless anywhere in the world, and with inflation running at about 400%, it's loosing value very quickly. But what I'm trying to do is take the money out through the banks here in Kenya, and transfer it into US dollars. But I know it's illegal to transfer cash out of Zimbabwe, so if I get caught it means big trouble, I'm afraid."

  "Which is why using the bank's computer systems would be so much better," said the young Mbele.

  "Not least because we could then get at other people's deposits as well as my father's," said Will. "I would probably draw the line at taking cash from the Zimbabwe Government, because that would hurt the people who are already struggling to survive there, but I would not hesitate to raid the accounts of some of the bloated politicians, or even the President himself, if I could get at them. Theirs is money gained from corruption and through the ruination of the country."

  "You must be careful not to get caught," said Marian. "Is it worth the risk, bearing in mind how very little you are likely to be able to get hold of?"

  "I think so," replied Will. "At the very least, it's a form of justice being administered. But of course, my father is by no means the only one. There are over four thousand white farmers who have been kicked off their land, and it would be wonderful to be able to help all of them as well. Using computers to move cash around would make that possible."

  "You make it all sound so easy," said Robin. "If only it was. But it isn't, I'm afraid. Breaking into a bank's computer system is as difficult as breaking into the building itself."

  "I really need to do that, as well," said Will, "although I know that isn't a starter! But the fact is that a lot of their wealth isn't in cash, but in diamonds, mostly obtained illegally from Sierra Leone. And you can't move them about with a computer!"

  "Well, at least you're being realistic about something," commented Bwonqa, with a grin.

  "I'm also getting very hungry," said Will. "How about you two? Why don't you join me and Bonkers for supper?"

  "I hadn't noticed how late it was getting," said Marian. "It would be good to join you if you're sure."

  "OK with me," said Robin. "How about you, Bwonqa?"

  "Only on one condition," replied the Zimbabwean. "And that is that you call me Bonkers, like he does!"

  "Right then," said Will. "I could murder a decent chicken piri-piri and frits, and there's a place round the corner that's good, in Banda Street. Not only that, it serves a half decent wine from my father's place, so let's go there."

  "And be nice to the waiters, for once," said Bonkers.

  "Promise!" replied Will, as the four of them set off across the busy street, lined with purple-flowering jacaranda trees.

  "Just as a matter of interest," asked Marian, during their relaxed meal, "why are you two here in Nairobi, and not at home in Zimbabwe?"

  The two looked at one another, as if wondering whether to share a confidence with the two strangers they had so recently befriended.

  "Well," replied Will, "since you ask, we are following someone. Acting as sort of sleuths, if you like."

  "Sounds intriguing," said Robin. "Tell us more!"

  "Who is it? "asked Marian.

  "It's a chap called Dickson Mawimbi," replied Bwonqa. "You won't have heard of him, but he was the local Government Minister in Bulawayo who commandeered the Bartlett's farm."

  "And who was ultimately responsible for the death of Bonkers' father," continued Will. "When he left the farm, he came here, as Zimbabwean Ambassador to Kenya in Nairobi. He's one of the President's favourite lackeys, which is how he came to be 'given' our farm, and why he now has a plum job here."

  "But why have you followed him here?" asked Robin. "You surely can't be seeking some sort of revenge, can you?"

  "Quite honestly, we are at a loss to know how to get justice for all that has happened," said Bonkers, "but when we heard that Mawimbi was to be sent here, we thought that we would follow just in case we found a way of getting our revenge."

  "So we have been following him about," said Will. "We know where he lives, where he works, where he likes to eat out, what car he drives - everything."

  "And we know what his wife does all day - where she shops, where she goes to the bank, who she meets for lunch, and all that," added Bonkers.

  "They haven't been here long, but their life has already developed into a pretty regular pattern," said Will. "Trouble is, we haven't worked out how to disrupt this pattern to any advantage."

  "One thing that had occurred to us," Bonkers went on, "was that we might be able to get at their bank account. His wife goes to the same branch of the Standard Chartered Bank every Thursday to take money out of the cash machine, and although we've been really close, we haven't yet been able to find out what her PIN number is."

  "Not that it would be much use to us if we did discover it, although we do have contacts within the bank. We even thought of trying to rig up some sort of camera to get a picture of her bank card, but that's a bit risky, even for us," said Will.

  "If only you were able to break into the bank's computer system," said Bonkers to Robin, "we could really strip the man clean and pay people back for some of the harm and suffering he has caused. But now we are back to where we started earlier this afternoon," he sighed.

  Robin looked across to Marian, as if trying to judge whether she was thinking along the same lines that he was.

  Marian lent forward. "You said earlier on, Bonkers, that you had contacts within the Government and in the banks. What sort of contacts, exactly?" she asked.

  Once again, Bonkers and Will exchanged glances, as if trying to judge how far they could trust their new friends.

  "Oh, just a few chaps here and there," said Will.

  "I think we should take them into our confidence," said Bonkers.

  "But we know nothing about them," replied Will. "We only met them for the first time a couple of hours ago," he protested. "No offence, of course," he continued, turning to Robin and Marian, "but we need to be a bit careful, that's all. We've already told you about Mawimbi."

  "Quite understand," replied Robin, "and we're not in the least offended. As you say, we need to get to know one another a lot better before we can start sharing too many confidences. We would feel exactly the same."

  "So what we need to do then," said Will, "is get better acquainted, don't you think? How much longer are you going to be in Nairobi?"

  The atmosphere was suddenly more relaxed.

  "Well," said Marian, "only another few weeks, really, until our teaching commitments are completed."

  "Then what will you do? Go on safari, or something?" asked Bonkers.

  "We've done that, "replied Marian. "It was one of the first things we did when we got here - went to the Masai M
ara, and then across to Serengeti in Tanzania and it was truly wonderful."

  "We really are playing things by ear, a bit," went on Robin. "We have a some more teaching sort-of arranged in Zambia and South Africa over the next couple of months, but even that is tentative and could be put off if we wanted. Until then, we're tourists, seeing what we can and relaxing a bit after our years at Oxford."

  "What's top of your agenda?" asked Bonkers.

  "We'd like to see Victoria Falls on our way south," replied Marian.

  "Mosi-Oa-Tunya", said Bonkers. "The smoke that thunders, as the locals say."

  "Certainly well worth a visit," agreed Will, "but sadly I have to say that the Zambian side is probably now better than the Zimbabwean side, although it used to be the other war round."

  "We rather thought we'd spoil ourselves, and have a couple of days at the Royal Livinstone Hotel," said Robin.

  "Wow, that's living!" said Will. "Five star, that is!"

  "But you can walk across into Zimbabwe from there," said Bonkers.

  "We must meet up again before you go," said Will. "We've been thinking ourselves that we ought to head back home at some time, but we've no plans. When will you be free, do you think?"

  "Almost any evening, really," replied Robin.

  "Right then," said Will, standing to leave. "What about a couple of beers again tomorrow? Let's meet again at the Thorn Tree, where we first met today."

  It was to be the start of a long friendship.