by Ian Campbell
"But she was efficient?"
"Smooth as silk."
"How many people were at the conference?"
"Between 130 and 160. I didn't count them."
"Was there any limit to the amount you were given in cheques?" Roberts continued to push the questioning firmly along, knowing that every detail gleaned would give him a better picture of the man he was after.
"Yes. We were told the maximum was $15,000 each "
"What was in it for you?"
"They paid 15% on a commission basis."
"And the cheques you reported stolen. Were they really stolen?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
"Well, you certainly can't plead the fifth over here."
"Why not?"
"Because, my friend, we don't have a written constitution."
"O.K. They weren't stolen. I cashed them in quickly, reported the loss and claimed a replacement set."
"That was risky," observed Roberts.
"Not really. I'd used the O'Hara passport which I'd lifted earlier the same week. The only details they had on me were his."
"And then you got greedy," commented Roberts, the briefest of smiles flickering over his features.
"Yeah... "
"Tell me something Freiburg; you were home and dry with $20,000 in cheques plus your other pickings.., whatever possessed you to go back to the airport and work the queues."
"The work's seasonal.., you make what you can in the high season otherwise It's tough to get by."
"I've heard it all now," Roberts shook his head in disbelief," Do you remember what this couple looked like?"
"I've already told you about the woman; the man was a city gent; pin-stripe suit, glasses, average height and build and a full brown beard."
"Would you recognize either of them if you saw them again?"
"Probably not him, but I'd recognize her fanny anywhere." Heath entered the room.
"Everything sorted Pat?"
"No problems really. We've got him for 12 hours. The governor's doing the paperwork now and will meet us at the gate in 15 minutes." The guard who had entered the cell with Heath, escorted Freiburg away.
"Tell me Pat, you're the one with all the brains.., what’s 160 multiplied by 15,000?"
"Why?"
"Because that's the sort of money involved here." Heath scribbled hurriedly on a piece of paper.
" 2,400,000, Guv'."
"That's in dollars; what's it worth in pounds?"
"1,920,000 at $1.25 to the pound."
The pieces of the jigsaw were gradually coming together. The squad car set the three of them down outside the Bank underground station and they waited briefly for Freiburg to get his bearings. He only hesitated for a moment, before he led them up Cornhill and turned sharply left into Change Alley.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" asked Roberts.
"Yeah. It looked different in daylight, but I'm sure.., there's the nameplate on the wall."
"Alright. Go with Sergeant Heath and show him the office - check to see if there is anyone there." Roberts turned to Heath," I doubt very much that there will be, but if there is, just ask if there'll be someone around in the morning. All we need to know tonight is the location of the office and the layout of the building.., clear?"
“Perfectly," said Heath.
"Pat?"
"Yes Guv'."
"You'd better cuff Mr. Freiburg; we don't want to lose him. I'll wait for you in Cornhill."
"Where's the entrance?" Heath asked the American.
"Just along here on the left," drawled Freiburg," They all look the same in the dark." He had a point.
Everything was just as Freiburg had described it. Freiburg entered first and led the way up to the first floor office - as expected, it was in complete darkness. By the light of a pencil torch, Heath read the nameplate on the door to the office, then, satisfied that he could find out nothing more, he led the American outside and rejoined Roberts in the car at Cornhill.
"How did you get on?" Roberts asked.
"It was just as our friend said. There's even a plaque on the wall outside - it certainly looked genuine to me."
"It's meant to. Anyway, I think we've done enough for tonight; we'll take Mr. Freiburg to dinner before we take him back to his 'hotel'; there are some questions I want to ask him." Roberts turned to his driver,
"Find us a nice secluded restaurant between here and the Scrubs."
The driver obliged and some 20 minutes later, pulled up outside a steak-house, within two miles of the prison itself. Once inside, Roberts waited until they were well into their main course before he questioned the American.
"Mr. Freiburg, I'd like you to tell us everything you can remember about the couple you met at the bank."
"You mean Guyton and Fairbrother?"
"Yes."
"What do you want to know?"
"Well, in your statement you gave us a reasonable physical description, but what about the couple themselves? For example, did they strike you as husband and wife - was there a close relationship between them?"
"Not that I saw. Guyton did all the talking when he addressed everyone at the hotel."
"Did he seem competent when he spoke; did it seem to come naturally to him, or did he get flustered at all?"
"He seemed completely at ease to me; he had all the spiel taped."
"We would say he had the gift of the gab." Roberts permitted himself a rare smile, as he thought of 'chummy' conning 160 Yanks at the same time.
"I'd say he was used to handling a lot of people. He was very professional," added Freiburg.
"Did he use any notes?"
"No. Everything was ad-lib."
"Confident as well." Roberts surmised aloud.
"Definitely. He even took questions from the floor and dealt with them."
"What about the girl, Miss Fairbrother?"
"She handled the running around - worked the photocopier - handed out and collected the questionnaires - that sort of thing."
"Did she speak at all?"
"Not to the conference generally."
"Did you meet her?"
"Only when I handed in my questionnaire and Passport."
"What impression did she give you, apart from her nice 'tush' as I believe you called it?"
"She had class - a real classy broad. Although she wore her hair up, swept back of her face and wore glasses, I bet she knew how to let it down!"
"Quite. Tell me more about their voices. I know it's an unfair question and that we probably all sound the same to you, but did you form any impressions about their accents?"
"You're so right; all you guys do sound the same. To most of us in the States you all sound gay - no offence, but the guy sounded almost American at times."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"What about the words they used... did they seem to have a good command of the language?"
"They both seemed pretty well educated to me."
"What about the time you picked up your supply of cheques from their office - did anything stick in your mind as being out of place?"
"Not really. They were the only ones there apart from the security guards."
"Didn't it seem strange to you that the bank seemed to only have a staff of two?"
"Not at all, really. They explained all that to us at the conference... they were the advanced guard preparing the way for a full scale launch of their bank's services this summer. He told us that Miss Fairbrother would be in charge at the City office. We expected to see her there and we weren't disappointed."
"You mentioned security guards..."
"Yes. There were guards at the conference and at the office in the City."
"I don't suppose you noticed which company they were from?"
"No, I didn't."
"Then I think that about covers it Mr. Freiburg. We'll give you a lift back to the Scrubs now."
"It's not necessary..."
"Don't worry.
.. it's a pleasure. Least we can do for you."
"Now, are you going to keep your part of the bargain?" Freiburg looked almost mournfully at the detectives.
"I'll certainly try to," promised Roberts," I can't tell you very much yet, only that we are limiting the charges to the pick pocketing at the airport."
"But that's all you've got on me in any case!"
"Not at all. We could charge you with the theft of the set of travelers cheques by reporting them lost; fraudulent conversion of the same cheques; making a false report to the police; wasting the time of the police by so doing ; obtaining pecuniary advantage by... "
" O.K. I've got the message."
"I promise you Mr. Freiburg, that Sergeant Heath and myself will do everything in our power to have you deported from our fair shores, although I can't guess how your own State Department will welcome you."
"I suppose you're waiting for me to thank you..."
"Not necessary at all... Pat - see he gets to his 'hotel' all right. I'll make my own way home."
Next morning, Roberts obtained a search warrant for the Change Alley premises and arranged for a 'scene-of-crime-officer' to be available. They dropped in on Forbes on their way to Change Alley.
"How did it go?" Forbes asked, as soon as Roberts put his head round the door.
"Straightforward enough.., he was quite co-operative considering... Mind you, he didn't have a lot of choice."
"Did he tell you how many people were involved and how many dollars they were given?"
"He put the numbers at between 130 and 160 people at the conference and they were each allowed $15,000."
"But that's nearly three million dollars...," commented Forbes incredulously, doing the sum in his head.
"I know. It translates to just under £2,000,000 as well. Nice if you can get away with it! I've got to search the Bank's premises; I'll get in touch as soon as we've checked the office out, although I don't expect to find too much."
Heath, having collected the warrant met up with his chief at the Change Alley location. The rest of the squad was standing by. The numerous exits to Change Alley were already sealed off and all escape routes had been covered. They both knew though, in their bones, that the offices would be empty, a feeling soon borne out by a report from one of the detectives who had been on watch since seven that morning. There had been little movement, except from people who seemed to work in offices in the same block.
Roberts gave the order to move in at eight minutes to ten; sure that no-one could escape the net he had cast. Sergeant Heath led five other officers swiftly into the building. Roberts followed. The door was locked. There were no sounds from within... no signs of any inhabitants whatsoever.
"Sergeant!" Roberts called out.
"Sir..."
"This office looks as if it's alarmed... see if you can rustle-up the caretaker." Before Heath had even moved, the slightly disheveled figure of Spriggs pushed its way through the throng of officers at the office door.
"You'll be wanting me I expect," announced Spriggs. "I'm the janitor. Spriggs is the name."
Roberts looked in the direction of the voice. He saw a man in his late sixties or early seventies, with greying hair and a heavily lined thin face looking at him. He was dressed in a brown lab coat, which he wore almost as a uniform... Roberts detected the air of an old soldier about him... the man was certainly old enough to have fought in the second war. Under the coat the man wore an equally old cardigan, which poked out beyond the coat sleeves. He wore the coat open, reminding Roberts of a scatter-brained chemistry tutor he had had at school many years before. He seemed to Roberts, a lonely man, possibly a widower, but one who hadn't entirely given up keeping himself spick and span as was apparent from his 'short back and sides' haircut and clean shaven face. The man walked with a permanent stoop which made him appear short, although he was probably six foot plus.
"Let him through!" commanded Roberts.
"So you're the caretaker of these offices, Mr. Spriggs." The man nodded.
"Right, Mr. Spriggs; there doesn't seem to be anybody at home today at this office. Could you open it up for us?"
"I don't know about that, Sir. It's a private office."
"We're quite aware of what it is Mr. Spriggs. Can you open up for us or not."
"I'm not sure I should. Perhaps I'd better phone my boss."
"And who would that be Mr. Spriggs?"
"Mr. Tomlinson, at Harvey Properties."
"Go and phone them Mr.Spriggs and while you're on the phone, tell your boss that the sound of breaking wood and glass that he can hear is his office door being broken."
"You wouldn't do that..."
"Wouldn't we? See this..," Roberts took the warrant out of his pocket and waved it in front of Spriggs’ eyes.
"What's that?"
"That, Mr. Spriggs, is all the permission I need to break into these offices.., it's called a Search Warrant. Now, are you going to open up with your keys, or do we have to break the door down?"
"I'll get the keys, Sir." Spriggs shuffled off to his den.
"Pat - Make sure neither he nor the keys gets lost."
The two men returned shortly... Carefully the caretaker unlocked the door. First the Chubb, then the Yale, then he stood back and allowed Roberts to push the door open.
"This way Pat; the rest of you stay where you are." Roberts didn't want evidence being spoilt by several pairs of hands and feet. They moved quickly to the inner office. The place, as expected, was deserted.
"O.K. Pat... let's just have a quick look ourselves before handing it over to the forensic boys."
"What are we looking for chief?"
"Anything would be nice."
They moved around the room in much the same way as professional decorators, starting at the door and working clockwise around the room. At the desk, Roberts inspected each drawer in turn using his biro to pull-open the drawer handles. Only two drawers proved fruitful. The first yielded a box of travelers' cheque wallets, the second, a stack of proposal forms and the little booklets on advice for travelers' cheques. They placed both finds in polythene evidence bags and were on the point of leaving the inner office, when Heath noticed a piece of paper protruding from underneath the desk blotter. He called to his chief, before lifting the blotter.
"What have you found Pat?"
"It looks like a list of some sort... there's about 15 names on it, of which 9 are crossed through; there are some figures listed against each name."
"Did you check the safe, Pat?"
"Locked as we expected."
"Ask the caretaker if he can open it; failing that, get him to ask his boss."
"And if neither of them can open it?"
"Then call in the specialists. It's probably empty, but we have to know and I want to know by the end of the day, one way or another."
They moved into the outer office, searching just as carefully, but found nothing. Roberts posted one man on the door and sent the rest scavenging around the building, to check rubbish bins etc., although he was pretty sure that would find nothing.
"Come on Pat, I think it's time we had another word with the caretaker."
Spriggs didn't seem too happy to see them.
"Mr. Spriggs. There are some questions we'd like answered. "Spriggs nodded." We'd like you to tell us everything about the people in the office upstairs. When did they come?"
"About a month ago I suppose."
"Did they just turn up one day and open for business, or did someone turn up to decorate beforehand?"
"There were some decorators a couple of weekends before."
"Now, I want you to think very carefully before you answer. Were they the same people?"
"Were who the same people?"
"Were the decorators the same people who staffed the office?"
"Don't be silly, they were decorators doin' the decorating."
"How do you know they weren't the same people."
"Mr. Guyton in the office was a gent, a
real gent... so was his lady... no way were they the decorators. Came and introduced themselves to me. Right proper they were."
"I'm sure they were Mr. Spriggs. You just referred to the woman as his lady. Are you saying there was more than just a business relationship between them."
"I couldn't say, really."
"But you did say just that. Sergeant Heath, could you read back your notes on that?"
"Mr. Guyton in the office was a gent, a real gent... so was his lady..." read Heath.
"Well I never saw anything improper between them, but they just seemed comfortable together."
"Thank you Mr. Spriggs... but you're quite sure that they weren't the same people who did the decorating."
"I've already told you that."
"Just making sure. Could you describe each of them for us?"
"Mr. Guyton was a real Gent... "
"I want to know what he looked like Mr. Spriggs... not whether he was kind to old ladies and animals."
"That's just it, he was a real Gent... straight from the City.., pin-stripe suit, bowler hat, the lot.., and he looked comfortable in them clothes, not like some of them do. He spoke like one too.., refined.., but not a snob, mind you; didn't mind speaking to me and didn't talk down to me either."
"What about his physical appearance, Mr. Spriggs?" Inquired Heath.
"Taller than average."
"What's average?" asked Roberts.
"Taller than him." Spriggs pointed to Heath, "and broader too."
"Did you notice any identifying marks on him?"
"You mean did he have any scars?"
"Well did he?"
"Not that I noticed... he seemed perfectly healthy to me."
"Tell me about the way he spoke.., you said he was a real city gent. Did he speak like one?"
"He spoke well.., refined sort of.., like the officers we used to have in the army."
"Was he clean shaven?"
"No, he had a beard.., a full beard, dark brown, the same color as his hair."
"Glasses?"
"Not that I remember."
"Can you tell us anything about the shoes he wore.., did you notice his shoes?"
"Funny you should mention that. Shoes is always what I look at. You can tell a lot about a man from his shoes. His were black, patent leather."
"And what about the woman?"