Cashback

by Duncan James

  ***

  Vaughan was getting nowhere.

  His post-lunch phone call from Bergen, giving him the dates he had wanted, had only added to the mystery. Some of the dates he had been given by GXR exactly matched the dates when the unexplained financial transactions had taken place at the Dutch bank. But so what? The dates from Global Crossroads were of apparently minor blips on their transmission system, which they were unable to identify or trace. They had appeared, to the experts at GXR at least, to indicate attempts at unauthorised access to the banking system, but it had not proved possible to say where the attempts, if that's what they were, had been made, or if they had been successful. They could have been anywhere in the world, and could have been targeted at any one of the thousands of banks that were licensed to operate.

  London was the only clue. It was the London Headquarters of the Dutch bank that had been targeted, and which had been the victim of unauthorised deposits being made, and then withdrawn. It seemed too much of a coincidence for the GXR dates that matched not to be related to the Dutch bank incident, but there was no way of proving it, or of working out their significance. None at all.??

  Full stop.

  There were no other clues whatsoever. There was no trail to be followed up, no apparent motive for the extraordinary transactions, and no obvious link between them and the old lady's account that had been used.

  That reminded him.

  Vaughan rang his predecessor, Paul Bridges, at the Cabinet Office. He might as well not have bothered. Without going into personal details, Vaughan explained that there had been an unexplained incident surrounding an account held by a relation of Denis Hood's, and just wondered if it had been mentioned over their lunch together. It hadn't. Just pleasant chat about old times, old friends, work of course, and inevitably politics, but nothing about any of Denis's relations. Oh, except that his son was doing awfully well. Got a good degree from Oxford and had now set up his own business. Something to do with computers, he thought.

  "While you're on, by the way," Bridges asked Vaughan, "have you heard any rumblings from the banking fraternity in Africa by any chance?"

  "What sort of rumblings?" asked Vaughan.

  "Not sure, really," replied Bridges. "It's just that we're picking up the odd vibe that some African leaders are suggesting that their coffers are being raided in some way. Their personal cash, that is, not public funds."

  "Most of it is public funds that they have mis-appropriated anyway, isn't it?" suggested the Bank of England man. "Foreign aid money, and that sort of thing?"

  "More than likely," agreed Bridges. "Just wondered if you'd heard anything on your net."

  "Can't say I have," replied Vaughan. "I'll let you know if I do."

  "Thanks. And if I hear anything more than rumours, I'll do the same."

  "That would be interesting," said Vaughan. "Especially the dates, if you can get them."

  "I'll bear that in mind," said Bridges.

  And that was that. If only GXR had been able to trace the origin of their wretched operating blips.

  The phone rang, and it was Bill Denning from Global Crossroads.

  "I was just thinking about you," said Vaughan. "Any news?"

  "Not really," replied Bill. "We've been through all the logs again, and there is absolutely nothing to suggest the origin of our hiccoughs, I'm afraid."

  "Could any of them have originated in Africa, by any chance?"

  "Altogether possible," replied Denning. "Or in America or Antarctica or Abyssinia or Afghanistan. I have absolutely no clue, and we have checked again, as you asked."

  "Helpful," said Vaughan, exasperated.

  "Sorry," said Denning, "but we are more than ever convinced that the cause is within your systems rather than ours. We've had a few more, by the way, not counting people drilling through fibre-optic cables in remote places. Thinking you'd ask, I've emailed the dates to you."

  "Helpful," said Vaughan again, but meant it this time.

  As he opened up his mailbox and printed off the new dates, he suddenly remembered what Bridges had said about Hood's son.

  Computers, he had said. And had got a good degree from Oxford.

  He grabbed the phone again, and got through to the Cabinet Office almost at once.

  "Sorry to bother you again so soon," he said, "but I just remembered what you said about Denis Hood's son. Did he by any chance say what subject his son took?"

  "Mathematics," replied Bridges. "Double first."

  "Very interesting," said Vaughan. "Thanks."

  "Don't mention it," replied a mystified Bridges, and hung up.

  Vaughan sat back and thought hard. Was this the link he had been looking for, he wondered?

  Jan Bergen, his opposite number at the Dutch bank, had been quite sure that a complete stranger had been responsible for tampering with Ms. Hood's account, because she had no real friends and Denis Hood was her only immediate relation. He plainly didn't know about her more distant nephew. If he were responsible, then it would explain why Ms. Hood's account had been used rather than any other. It was no accident.

  On the other hand, how could a newly graduated student from Oxford, however brilliant, possibly crack a banking security system that was so totally secure? And even if he had, what was his motive? Putting money in to her account would make some sort of sense, especially in view of her failing health, as it would add to the family's inheritance. So why take it out again, almost immediately?

  Nothing made sense any more.

  Where had the money come from in the first place? Nobody had worked that out, and no bank, to his knowledge, had reported the sudden disappearance of two million pounds. The fact was that no bank would probably notice, since it was such an insignificant sum relative to their daily turnover. It was margin of error stuff, which might not even be discovered during an audit.

  Hang on, a minute!

  What was that Paul Bridges had said about Africa?

  Surely not!

  However bloody clever Mr. sodding Hood's son was, he couldn't possibly have taken cash out of the personal bank accounts of 'African leaders' - that's what Bridges had called them - to put it into his aged Aunt's account.

  Could he?

  And then take it out again? Why would he do that? And where did it go? And, most important of all, how the hell did he do it? It was supposed to be impossible, wasn't it? And what were all these 'blips' that Global Crossroads were detecting?

  The more Vaughan tried to make sense of what was going on, the less sense it all made. He even began to wonder if it was any of his business in the first place. Why should the Bank of England get itself involved in the loss, by a foreign bank, of the paltry sum of two million pounds? He had almost convinced himself that he should forget the whole thing, when his intercom rang. The Governor wanted to see him please, if he had a minute.

  "I won't keep you, Alistair," said the Governor, "but I've had the Chairman of the US Federal Reserve on the phone, wanting to know if I'd heard about the loss by one of their big silicon valley corporations of several hundred million dollars from various accounts round the world. Of course, I hadn't, but I wondered if you'd heard anything."

  Alistair Vaughan tried not to show his concern.

  "No, I haven't as a matter of fact," he replied. "How long ago was this?"

  "I never thought to ask," replied the Governor.

  "It would be interesting to have the dates," said Vaughan casually.

  "I'll ask when I call him back. I said I would let him know when I'd found out if we knew anything."

  The Governor eventually learnt that the money appeared to have been 'siphoned off', as man from the Fed. put it, from various banks in countries where the corporation had major offices, including the UK, Singapore, and Hong Kong, as well as in the US. He passed on the dates, which eventually found their way to Vaughan's office.

  They matched some of those passed on by Bill Denning of GXR.

  Suddenly, Alistair Vaughan realised that
he could no longer pretend that this was none of his business.?

  15. DIPLOMATIC PRESSURE?

  Jim Farlow had been doing rather well, really, in the past month or so. He had studiously been working his way through the lists that Robin Hood had given him, and had managed, during the long hours of his night shift, to get the encryption codes and passwords for almost all the accounts Robin had listed. That left Robin free to access them, and transfer money from them into the two special numbered accounts he had opened in Switzerland. These were building up nicely, as he had hoped, and he would soon be ready to instruct the two banks to start their part of the operation.

  In Oxford, work on developing the new bank security operating system, to replace the one they had compromised so effectively, was nearing completion. Computer Solutions had been formally constituted, and had now settled in its new company office suite in the business park. Sergei Volkov had just started his full-time work at the University, but was still able to spend some time, as a consultant, helping Robin to put the finishing touches to their new computer programme.

  That morning, Robin was using the computer to design the artwork for an advertising campaign he planned for the launch of his newly formed company. Computer graphics had always fascinated him, so he was quite enjoying himself.

  "Just think," he said to Marian, "that at one time I wanted to do this for a living, working in the advertising industry. Now, here I am trying to devise a campaign for my own company."

  "It could be a useful skill to fall back on," said Marian. "We still don't know if this venture of ours is going to work out as we hope."

  "True," Robin agreed. "Much will depend on how we manage to market the new banking operating system, once that's finished."

  "How are the trials going?" asked Marian.

  "Very well, really," replied Robin. "Grudge and I agree that there's probably not a lot more we need to do to the system. Once we're happy with it, we shall need to license the thing in our name, and then get out into the market place with it. Quite honestly, I'm not really sure where to start with that."

  "Perhaps one of the banks you 'borrowed' from, when you put money into your Aunt's account," suggested Marian. "They will have first-hand experience of how vulnerable the old system turned out to be, in spite of everyone thinking it was foolproof."

  "I'm not so sure about that," replied Robin, pensively. "I think I'd really prefer to demonstrate the system's weakness as a new exercise, rather than expose the fact that I've been acting illegally in the past. The last thing I want is to end up in prison!"

  "It's all been properly paid back," protested Marian, "so they can't accuse you of theft. I've kept very precise and accurate records, specially."

  "I know you have, my dear, but the fact is that taking the money in the first place was against the law. I'd much rather stage a proper demonstration somewhere, so that one of the banks can actually see the weaknesses we have managed to expose as we show them how we are able to compromise their security systems. Then we can go on to demonstrate the complete replacement that we have devised, and show them how much more robust it is."

  "Makes a lot of sense, that," said Rupert, who had joined the company on its formation. Rupert knew of Robin's ability to break into banking computer systems, and was helping with the latter stages of the development of the new encrypted operating system, but he had no idea what use Robin was making of his earlier work. Only Marian and Grudge knew the details of that. "We can rehearse the demonstration here until we're happy with it," concluded Rupert, "stopping short of actually getting into a bank's treasury system."

  "That's what I'd prefer," said Robin. "But I can't decide which bank to chose, that's the problem."

  "Why not start at the top," suggested Rupert, "and try to interest the Bank of England itself. They're at the very heart of things in the City."

  "Now that is a good idea," exclaimed Robin. "I knew there was a reason for taking you on!"

  Valya stuck her head round the door.

  "Phone call for you, Robin," she said. "Won't give his name, but he sounds very excited and says he calling from East Africa."

  "That must be Will Bartlett," said Robin. "I was going to ring him later - put him through."

  It was Will, and he was definitely very excited.

  "I don't know what you've been up to, Robin," he said, "but there is all sorts of trouble going on here!"

  "Where are you?" demanded Robin.

  "Bulawayo again," replied Will. "I met up with Bonkers here last night - one of our 'contacts' - know what I mean? - suggested it would be a good idea."

  "So what's going on?" asked Robin.

  "Well, it seems that a lot of very senior people here have suddenly lost a lot of money," explained Will. "According to reports I'm getting, some of them have lost almost everything, and there is no end of grief as a result. One of them, would you believe, is the President himself, and he is mightily displeased. He's having a huge palace-of-a-place built at vast expense, and he suddenly finds he can't pay the bills. Lot's of his cronies are in the same boat, apparently. Not just government ministers and officials, but judges, senior military and all sorts. There's real panic at the top over here, I can tell you!"

  "But it's all money gained from corruption in the first place," Robin pointed out.

  "Perhaps it is," said Will, "but they thought it was secure nonetheless, and now it's suddenly disappearing from their bank accounts like monsoon rain down the storm drains. According to my contacts, some of them have been left penniless, and although a few own commandeered farms requisitioned for them by the war veterans, these are just about worthless now, as you know."

  "What's being said publicly?" asked Robin.

  "Absolutely nothing," replied Will. "So far, there's been nothing in The Herald or the other media, but that's no real surprise as it's all government owned anyway. But there are rumours circulating, and some ministers are putting it about that this is all the work of the UK government, trying to bring the regime down."

  "I suppose the diplomats must know about it, then."

  "I'm sure they must. If I know about it, they must as well. There's even talk about a possible coup or some other attempt to overthrow the government, funded from abroad," said Will, getting quite breathless with excitement.

  "I might have a quiet word with my father's old colleague - you know, the chap who's Defence Attache in Harare who we visited."

  "Be interesting to know what he's heard," commented Will.

  "Can I pass on what you've told me?" enquired Robin.

  "By all means," replied Will. "I'd rather you didn't give my name as the source, though, just in case someone's listening."

  "Understood," agreed Robin. "I'll let you know what he says. And please give me a ring if you hear anything else exciting."

  Robin couldn't immediately get hold of Group Captain Charles Bowman in Harare, for the simple reason that he was himself on the secure 'red' phone to the Head of the Cabinet Office Briefing Room, retired Air Commodore Paul Bridges.

  "I thought I should give you a call, rather than send the usual telegram, as the people here still call them," he said, "because it looks as if we are getting the blame for what at the moment appears to be a major failure of the local banking system. The Ambassador is on to the Foreign Office, and my usual contact in MOD is out, otherwise, I'd call him."

  "What's happening, then?" asked Bridges.

  "All sorts of top people, from the President downwards, are suddenly finding their personal bank accounts have been emptied," explained Bowman. "This is causing considerable anger, and rumours and accusations are flying around, as you can imagine."

  "But most of it was siphoned off from official funds and international aid in the first place, wasn't it?" asked Bridges. "That's why we stopped financial support for the land reform programme."

  "Exactly," agreed Bowman. "And that's why we are now being accused of further skulduggery by emptying their personal coffers, as some sort of reve
nge for evicting white farmers."

  "Couldn't be done, even if we wanted to, could it? Emptying their accounts, I mean?"

  "Of course not," replied Bowman. "It has to be a major banking systems failure somewhere, but that doesn't stop this desperate bunch looking round for a scapegoat. And that's the UK again."

  Bowman went on to brief the COBR man about the individuals that he was aware of who had been affected and who were apparently running around like headless chickens because they could no longer pay their bills. The President himself was incandescent with rage, and, given that he was unpredictable at the best of times, could do anything without notice.

  "Which is why I thought I should give you a bell," concluded the Defence Attache.

  "Why me, specially?" asked Bridges.

  "Well, I remember that you called a meeting to discuss the situation over here not too long ago, while I was at MOD. Squadron Leader Gavin Williams attended on my behalf."

  "You've got a good memory, Charles," said Paul Bridges. "I'll pass on what you've told me straight away, but perhaps you'd follow this up with an e-mail telegram in the usual way so that we've got a proper record in writing of what's going on. And don't hesitate to give me a call again if anything else major happens."

  It was shortly after this that Robin was able to get through to the Group Captain in Harare.

  "I hope you don't mind me ringing you, out of the blue," said Robin, "but I remember when we met a few months ago that you said you were in the business of collecting useful information, and asked us to keep our eyes open for anything interesting."

  "Yes, I do remember that," said Bowman. "Sally ticked me off for asking you to spy on my behalf when you were on holiday!"

  The two of them laughed.

  "As it happens, I had nothing to report then, anyway," said Robin, "but I've just had an excited phone call from a chum of mine in Bulawayo, and I thought you might be interested. I think I mentioned him to you when we met - son of an evicted white farmer?"

  "Indeed I do remember," said the Defence Attache.

  "Well, it was he who rang me," said Robin. "And I do realise that we're on an open line which isn't in the least secure, but I wondered if you'd heard about the reaction of some of the top people where you are to the apparent loss of their personal wealth?"

  "This is extraordinary," exclaimed Bowman. "I have only just put the phone down from talking to London about it. Tell me what your friend said. And don't worry about security - anyone listening in at this end will already know what we're talking about!"

  Robin repeated what Will had told him.

  "Fits in very well with what I've heard, too," said Charles Bowman. "Although rumours of a coup are new to me, I must admit, and a bit worrying."

  "I've asked him to ring me again if he hears anything else interesting, so if you like I'll pass that on, too," offered Robin.

  "Please do," said Charles Bowman. "But, just as a matter of interest, did your friend say how he had come across all this information?"

  "He didn't say, but I think I know anyway," replied Robin Hood. "And if you don't mind, that is not something I will pass on over the phone."

  Robin knew it would be risky to describe Will's network of contacts, in case the Defence Attache's phone was bugged.

  "I'm very interested to know how he came by this information, although I agree you shouldn't discuss it over an open line," said the Group Captain. "Where are you at the moment?"

  "In my office in Oxford," replied Robin.

  There was a slight pause.

  "Two things would be very useful," said the man in Harare. "First of all, I would very much like to talk to your friend directly, either over the phone or face to face. Secondly, to achieve that, it would be very useful if I could talk to you over a secure phone first."

  "Where is there one?" asked Robin Hood.

  "RAF Brize Norton is probably your nearest," said the Group Captain, "but there would be a fuss organising that."

  "I could drive over there, if that would help," offered Robin, "or I could get my contact to give you a ring. Perhaps you could then arrange to meet."

  "That might be a better solution," agreed the Group Captain. "I could then pass on what he has to say over a secure link to London. I would like my contact in the Cabinet Office to know what's going on - I was talking to him, just before you rang. Chap called Paul Bridges. He's a retired Air Commodore, by the way, and knows your father."

  "Well - small world isn't it!" exclaimed Robin. "I'll get back to my contact right away," said Robin. "His name is Will Bartlett, and he's the son of one of the white farmers who has been evicted by the war veterans. But if you do want me to get to a secure phone, I shall be here for the rest of the day."

  "Excellent, thanks. That's very kind of you. Talk to you again soon," said Bowman and hung up.

  Robin began to wonder if perhaps he wasn't getting a bit out of his depth. It was he who had moved all the money about, although nobody knew that at the moment, and hopefully wouldn't find out, either. But it seemed to be causing something of an international storm, which he hadn't anticipated. Evicting the white farmers had given rise to a great deal of bad publicity, but nobody in the world had done anything about it, least of all offered to help the farmers involved. But he had, now, and it was causing a fuss. Perhaps that's why no one else had ever done anything. Well, it was too late now so far as he was concerned. The people who had suffered would be compensated a little, thanks to his efforts, and now it was those who had caused the suffering who were feeling the pain.

  Paul Bridges, in the meantime, had thought to put in another call to Alistair Vaughan, at the Bank of England.

  "Since we last spoke," he said, "I've heard more about the problems in Africa."

  "Interesting," said Vaughan. "I've heard nothing at all on my network."

  "It looks as if there is a major row brewing somewhere," continued Bridges. "One of my contacts in Harare tells me that a lot of very senior people seem to have suddenly lost all or most of their personal wealth, and it's causing a lot of grief, as you can imagine."

  "Any idea what's happened exactly?" asked Vaughan.

  "Not yet," replied his predecessor, in the Cabinet Office. "There seem to be two theories at the moment. One is that the banking system is in some form of melt down - computers packed up or something - and the other is that it's the UK government playing tricks to avenge the plight of the white farmers."

  "Interesting," said Vaughan again. "It's certainly not the banks, so it must be you lot!"

  "It certainly isn't us," responded Bridges. "How do you think we could hack into Zimbabwean banks from here and muck about with people's accounts - even if we thought it was a good idea, in the first place, which it most certainly would not be?"

  "Well, if it was the banking computer systems playing up, we'd know about it all right, and we don't. The first I ever heard of any trouble there was when you mentioned it on the phone the other day," said the man in Threadneedle Street. "I suppose you still don't have any dates for when all this happened, do you?" he asked as an afterthought.

  "None at all," came the reply. "I'm hoping to learn more shortly, so if I get anything that might interest you, I'll let you know."

  Robin managed to get hold of Will quite quickly, and told him of the interest in Whitehall about what he had said.

  "There's been all sorts of talk about trying to set up secure telephone links between us so that we can all talk at once, but I think the easiest thing would be for you to talk to the Defence Attache first, and perhaps try to meet him somewhere quiet," suggested Robin.

  "I can do that if he wants," replied Will. "But what does he want to talk about?"

  "Basically, he wants to know what you know, and how you got to know it, I think," replied Robin. "He needs to be sure that any information he passes on is accurate and well sourced, rather than just tittle-tattle."

  "I can understand that," agreed Will.

  "Tell him about your informa
l network of contacts, and the sort of positions they hold, without giving any names, and that should convince him, as it did me when you first discussed it."

  "I shall certainly not be naming names," said Will, "even to him. They are too valuable to put at risk."

  "Agreed," said Robin. "And whatever else you tell him, keep my name out of it, too, if you don't mind!? He's a friend of my father's, as you know, so I certainly don't want news getting back here about what I've been doing."

  "You can be sure of that," Will reassured him. "If you manage to do what you set out to do, then there are many people here who will want you given a Knighthood, not a bollocking!"

  "I think I've almost done enough now," said Robin. "In view of the fuss which seems to be stirring, I think I'll call a halt to the African operation any day at all. I may try to make a quick visit to see you again, and let you know what's being done."

  "That would be great!" said Will. "We'd love to see you again. But I'd better try to get hold of your chum at the embassy.?? Let me have his phone number."