by Duncan James
***
Lunch at the RAF Club in Piccadilly, where Denis Hood met Paul Bridges, was a far more relaxed affair than lunch at Simpson's in the Strand, where Jan Bergen met Alistair Vaughan from the Bank of England.
For one thing, Denis and Paul were old friends and colleagues, whereas Bergen and Vaughan had only met a couple of times before, and then only over official business. This was business, too, in a way, although both men knew that it was to be an informal, almost 'off the record' meeting. Bergen's Dutch bank was obviously not one of the UK's 'big five' banks, but since it was trading in the UK it had to abide by the same rules and regulations, laid down by the Bank of England and other City financial regulatory bodies, that applied to any other bank. Bergen and his London office Chairman knew they had to toe the fiscal line, and that eventually they would have to file an official report to the Bank of England about the mysterious episode of Ms. Hood's account, but they had accepted that it would be sensible to raise it informally first. Although the Head of Computer Services had offered to meet his opposite number in Threadneedle Street to discuss it, they had eventually agreed that the security aspects of the case would probably be a better starting point.
So Jan Bergen had been put in to open the batting, so to speak, and hoped that his limited acquaintance with Vaughan would be enough to get a feel for how the issue should be taken forward formally at a later date.
Certainly, Vaughan had greeted him warmly enough, and they soon relaxed into conversation on all sorts of subjects, both personal and professional. Eventually, Alistair Vaughan raised the object of their meeting.
"I gather you wanted to discuss a security issue that's bothering you," he said.
"Well yes I did, if you don't mind," replied Bergen. "An altogether extraordinary thing has happen to one of our accounts, and I would welcome your view, informally of course. I believe we shall eventually be required to report it to you formally, but I wanted to take your mind on it first in case you had any idea what else we might do to try to solve the mystery before we tell you about it officially."
Bergen succinctly outlined the events surrounding the account held by Ms. Gladys Hood, of whom nobody had heard until she suddenly inherited two million pounds, only to lose it again just as suddenly.
"All we know about the transactions," admitted Bergen, "is that they both took place through the clearing system via the Internet, but we have absolutely no idea where the money came from to get into the BACS, or where it went to afterwards."
Vaughan frowned. "I find that difficult to believe."
"So do we," agreed Bergen. "But it's happened, and it happened to us. We use the same basic computer security and cryptography system that all the major banks use, by the way."
"Tell me about the checks you've carried out," demanded Vaughan.
Jan Bergen did so. "Apart from all the technical and security checks we could possibly think of, I have also interviewed Ms. Hood's nephew, earlier today as a matter of fact, who happens to have power of attorney over her affairs. He has been through all the paperwork about her estate, and between us we went through her account again. He seems as bemused by the whole affair as we are. We are also checking key staff who just could have been responsible, although so far we have drawn a blank there, too. I can tell you that the Chairman wasn't best amused when we told him that he had been included in that little exercise, but he eventually agreed that it was the best thing to do. You know, there are two particularly odd things about all this," he added.
"Only two?" queried Vaughan.
"I agree that the whole thing is bizarre," said Bergen, "but the fact is that any motive totally escapes me. Someone has put money into the account of a complete stranger, we assume, rather than his or her own account, only to remove it again days later. You would know better than I, with your background, but that doesn't seem rational or sensible or the work of a felon, if you ask me."
"I tend to agree," said the ex-Fraud Squad chief. "What's the second thing?"
"The money involved," stated Bergen. "A nice round figure, with no odd shillings and pence attached, so it obviously isn't a dividend of any sort. But why two million, rather than two thousand or some other figure? And why deposit it in one dollop and remove it in two? It beats me, the whole thing."
"Very odd," agreed Vaughan, still frowning. He sipped his claret, thoughtfully.
"Tell me," he asked Bergen. "Why do you assume this to be the work of a complete stranger? Why can't it be a friend or relation of Ms. Hood?"
"For one thing, Denis Hood, her nephew, is the only immediate relative she has, and I'm sure it's not him playing around, even though he does have power of attorney. If he were going to put two million quid into her account by some means so as to enhance his legacy, he'd have left it there. And according to him, she has no real friends, either. She's been in a nursing home for some time, and is now in a hospice."
"What's Denis Hood's background?" asked Vaughan.
"Retired RAF Group Captain, now working in the aviation industry," replied Bergen. "Seems beyond reproach, to me. As a matter of interest, he's even now lunching with your predecessor at the RAF Club - knows him well, apparently."
"Small world," said Vaughan. "Perhaps I'll give Paul Bridges a ring later, to see if this particular subject came up."
"Any idea what else we might do, before we submit a formal report?" asked Bergen. "I suppose we shall have to, having 'lost' two million pounds."
"Yes, I'm afraid you will eventually," replied Vaughan, "but not yet if you don't mind. I'd like to do a bit more digging myself first."
"My Chairman, for understandable reasons, is keen to draw a line under this case as soon as possible," said Bergen. "Not least because he has agreed to pay the Hoods interest on the deposit until we do so."
"I'll let you know as soon as possible, then," replied Vaughan. He paused for a moment.
"I suppose by any chance you don't happen to have the dates with you when these transactions took place?" he asked.
"I'm afraid not," replied Jan Bergen, mystified, "but I can soon get them for you if you want them. Are they important?"
"Probably not," replied Alistair Vaughan. "But I had a call the other day from a contact at Global Crossroads - you know, the people who run the secure Internet switching service - and they have apparently had more than a few blips on the system recently. The sort they get from their intrusion detection system when hackers are trying to get in to it," he explained.
"And you think there could be a connection?" queried Bergen.
"It might just be worth checking out," replied Vaughan. "The system automatically switches between servers when there is a threat of some interruption, and then reverts to the normal links when the threat has passed. They can quite often find out who is responsible, or where they are operating from, but in some recent cases, there seems to have been no clue at all."
He paused briefly, and looked at Bergen as if judging whether or not he could trust the man.
"No clue at all," he added eventually, "except, that is, that in each case the transactions were made over the Internet, and appeared to be coming through the clearing system, although it was plainly outside interference of some sort."
"How very odd," agreed Bergen.
"Exactly," said Vaughan. "I'd just like to check your dates against theirs, that's all. Just in case. It would just be too much of a coincidence if they matched."
"It probably wouldn't get us any closer to tracing the source of the two million quid though, would it?"
"Probably not," said Vaughan again. "To be honest, it isn't the sums of money that interest me so much as the fact that they appear to be unauthorised transactions. So I'd still like to have the dates, if I may."
"I'll phone them through to you later today," promised Bergen.
He did, and some of them matched exactly.