by Ian Campbell
"£333,333."
"How many people did Freiburg say he thought were at the conference?"
"Didn't he say about 130 to 160?"
"Yes, he did. Divide the dollar amount by 145; what does that give us?" Pat went back to his schoolmaster's role.
"$20,000"
"One last sum; Freiburg said he was issued with $15,000. Divide our $2,900,000 by that figure." Pat obliged.
"193"
"That's it Pat! Do you see? He printed about $3,000,000 in cheques; advertised his conference; divided the amount in dollars by the number of people who turned up and."
"How many turned up?"
"Wake up lad - 193 of course. If fewer than that had arrived, they would each have been given more money to change and vice-versa. It’s beautiful Pat; each of our Americans was given 150 $100 bills to change in a safe period of six days; that's 25 to change each day.., say six or seven transactions. He gives them each a different area of the city to work, so that no one area gets inundated. He opens the Change Alley office and while the Yanks are doing the dirty work, Chummy and his bird sit there waiting for the money to roll in.., and it does roll in. However, they can't control the flow, so although they're ready to pack their bags at the end of the safe period, on the Wednesday after Easter, Chummy knows that an empty office will only arouse suspicion from the Yanks, so.., "
"So," Heath continued, "He nips along to the Mark Street Bureau and hires two temps to do the dirty work, sets up the bank account and arranges for the girls to make the payments to the bank."
"He's even better than that. He arranged for the funds to be transferred from the Provincial Bank to the Belgian bank and probably from there to another," continued Roberts."
"But they would have taken all the money they'd got in hand with them when they left the office. All we're chasing is the tail end of it."
"That's right, chasing our bloody tails and for all we know Chummy never intends to go anywhere near it at all. Would you if you were in his shoes?"
"Might be a lot of money involved?"
What do you think Pat.., £50,000 or £100,000.., would you worry about that if you were in the clear with a million and a half?"
"I see your point chief, but if he's this clever, why are we wasting our time. If he's like you say he is, we're never going to catch him."
"You could be right son, you could just be right." Roberts topped both glasses up.
"I've got a feeling Chummy must have a background in banking or printing.., perhaps both, but if this is only a two man show as I suspect it is, he will have done all the printing himself. What sort of equipment would he need? Perhaps that would be traceable. Let’s phone Forbes and see if he's got any ideas."
Whatever else Roberts thought of his colleague at the Yard, Forbes put in equally long hours, as the phone call proved.
Chapter 24
The Secret Service
"Hello Duncan.., Jim Roberts here. We've just had a thought about Chummy. Would any of your experts at the Yard be able to tell us what printing equipment would be needed to produce the cheques?"
"I could send one of our lads down to you.., a chap called Collins.., knows all there is to know about the forgery side of the business."
"Fine, I thought we might be able to get a lead on Chummy through the equipment."
"When shall I send him over?"
"Now will do fine."
“Are you still at Marlborough Street?"
"Yep.., just tell him to ask for me. I need something tonight - I've got to see the Yanks in the morning at the Embassy and it would be nice to be able to give them something. Any news with the Belgian banks yet?"
"Yes, I had a call from Interpol a little while ago and they've tracked down five ‘possibles’ so far. They're all in Brussels, but they won't be able to see everyone until tomorrow. I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything, meanwhile I'll send Collins over."
"Thanks Dunc.' Bye... "
"Collins arrived within the hour. He was the type of man Roberts referred to as 'all teeth and hair'. His one redeeming quality was that he took his scotch straight. Roberts' assessment of anyone that dared put anything in scotch except more scotch, was that he would have to be a little queer. According to this rule, there were a fair number of them already in that division and Roberts hated them all. He passed Collins some of the cheques which they had found on Freiburg.
"What exactly do you wish to know, guv'?" Collins inquired, studying the cheques intently.
"We need to know what sort of equipment would be needed to print these cheques," said Roberts. "Would it be simple equipment which anyone could handle or would the printer need expert knowledge?"
"You don't want much; I would say, off the record, that these cheques could have been printed on a small web-offset machine and the numbering sequences, which is where the forger usually goes wrong, were possibly done on a hand press." Collins took a small folding pocket magnifier from his jacket pocket and inspected the cheques more closely. "The raised 'intaglio' printing, that's the rough texture of the ink," Collins went on, pointing to the area on the cheques and letting the detectives feel the texture, "was not printed by the normal method. This work is much coarser and a thermoplastic powder has been used to give the effect."
"That one went right over my head Collins; can you put it into English?"
"These cheques have had some of the texture put on them by coating the ink with a fine powder and then being quickly heated and agitated, when the powder was hot enough to melt. It leads me to conclude that the man you are after is a gifted amateur, with a lot of practice."
"Where could he have got the necessary equipment?"
"There must be 50 suppliers nationwide who could have provided him with what he needed." Collins went on," but if I wanted to do it, I'd buy all the equipment second-hand."
"Just how would you go about that?"
"Pick up any issue of Exchange & Mart and you'd find everything you wanted... "
"That easy eh?" queried Roberts.
"I didn't say it was easy. Perhaps buying the equipment would be, but he would still need the expertise to use it and he'd need to know his way around a photographic studio and darkroom as well."
"Why's that?"
"Because, with modern technology, the master engraver has been replaced by a layout artist working with paste-ups and Letraset and process photography."
"Are you telling me Chummy's a photographer as well as a printer?"
"He'd have to be that, if he did it on his own; no other way. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he designed and created the original cheques with art products sold at 10,000 shops up and down the country and none of the purchases would have been in the least strange. I don't see any way you're going to find him through the equipment.., it will be a sheer waste of time trying." Roberts sat back in his chair disconsolately and re-filled the glasses from the bottle.
"Any bright ideas, you two?" Roberts asked of his colleagues, his estimation of 'chummy' just having risen 100%.
"What about the girl, Guv'?" ventured Heath
"You mean the straight-laced, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, Miss Fairbrother? I think we've even less to go on with her. Apart from having a lot of nerve, most secretaries or cashiers could have played her part; No, I'm convinced we should concentrate on Chummy." Roberts sat back and gazed at the ceiling, deep in thought, while the others quietly finished their drinks. Several minutes passed before anyone spoke again.
"I've decided on a course of action." Roberts said, after due deliberation. "I want you, Pat, to go down to Criminal Records and play with their computer. Pull the files on anyone in Chummy's age range with experience in banking or printing or photography. I'm going home, so leave instructions with C.R.O to notify me at home if they find any candidates who show up in two or more categories. Otherwise I'll see you here at ten in the morning, when I come back from the Embassy. Thanks for coming over, Collins; I appreciate it and if you have any thoughts at al
l, let me know. Goodnight you two." Roberts picked up his old, weathered mac from the back of the chair, drained his scotch and left.
Thursday dawned bright for Roberts. The previous evening he had actually arrived home before nine, one of the red letter days of the year as far as his wife was concerned, and, knowing he had done all he could on the case, he had enjoyed a conscience free evening for a change. His mood was suitably euphoric when he made his way to the embassy in Grosvenor Square. The sun was shining, the birds singing and he noticed the first hint of summer drifting in the air. It was a mood which was soon to change.
The first sign of trouble came when he was called to the side of a Daimler Sovereign limousine drawn up outside the embassy. A bowler hatted, umbrella'd, pinstriped man beckoned him to approach closer.
"D.I.Roberts?" inquired another pinstriped effigy from the rear seat of the car, leaning through the window.
"Who wants to know?" The effigy ignored his petulance.
"You are, I believe, Detective Inspector Roberts", said the pinstripe, looking at a file-copy of Roberts head and shoulders photo held in his left hand.
"Yes, I am."
"If you could bear with me for a minute or so Sir, all will be revealed. I believe you are shortly going to enjoy an interview with a representative of the U.S. State department."
"You're remarkably well informed, Mr?"
"It's not necessary for you to know who I am, just let's say that Her Majesty's government have sent me along this morning to hold your hand at the meeting, to make sure nothing untoward is said."
"Untoward? Is this a polite way of telling me to mind my P's and Q's?"
"I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but essentially, 'yes'."
"I don't think you need instructions from me as to what I should like you to do," Roberts commented angrily, for if there was one thing he had never been able to stand, it was being told to keep quiet and take what was coming.
"I assure you Detective Inspector Roberts, there is no need for this attitude and I would advise you to remember that you have only 18 months left before your retirement.., so don't blot your copy book now. I think we'd better go in or we shall be late; just agree to be helpful to them in any way you can, that's all you need do."
The two men walked up the steps to the Embassy together.., the pinstripe jauntily, while Roberts, seething with anger stomped up them. A sergeant-at-arms had them escorted to a smart, luxurious office, somewhere in the depths of the building, where they found several Americans waiting for them. A tall, thin-faced man was the first to speak.
"Good morning gentlemen, thank you for coming. I am Arthur Donaldson, permanent aide to our vice-ambassador here in London and this is Jack Hilton, who is attached to our Treasury Department." He indicated his colleague, who was slightly shorter and sported a nose which must have been broken at some time. The pinstripe introduced Roberts, then himself. His name turned out to be Hathaway.
"Gentlemen, please sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I have asked you here, this morning, because we have a situation developing rapidly in the States, concerning these travelers' cheques. It has all the potential to become a major source of embarrassment to us, because one of our leading international companies is involved."
"You mean American Express," interjected Roberts. Pinstripe glared at him.
"Quite, Mr. Roberts."
"How much progress have you made in this case?" asked Hilton, speaking for the first time.
"Our enquiries are proceeding normally at the moment, if that's what you're asking."
"In other words, you're not making any real headway." The American knew exactly how to put his finger on the vital spot.
"I didn't say that." Replied Roberts.
"Merely an observation," continued Hilton. "From what we can see, you don't have any real hard evidence in this case, do you?"
"We have a fair amount of circumstantial evidence at the moment, but no hard leads. What do you want me to do?"
"What we would very much like you to do, is to turn over all your evidence so far to Mr. Hilton and forget about it," announced Donaldson, all sweetness and light, forever the diplomat.
"Over my dead body," the words seemed to hang in the air as Roberts uttered them. No one commented or even smiled. Roberts knew then, at that precise moment, that the men he was dealing with, were capable of making such arrangements.
"I don't understand gentlemen. I'm the senior investigating officer on this case being handled by the Serious Crime Squad and you want me to lay off. Why?"
"Because you don't have a crime, dear boy," said Pinstripe.
"Of course there's a crime; it's as plain as a pikestaff. I'm investigating a fraud involving something in excess of $2,000,000 which has been fraudulently converted and some clever villain's had it away and is living in clover and laughing up his sleeve at law and order and you expect me to forget about it?"
"There hasn't been a crime Roberts," muttered Pinstripe, "No complaints have been made, have they?"
"None that I know of."
"So you have no victims of this crime. No victims... no complaints. Just a set of curious circumstances."
"And what happens the next time Chummy pulls the same stunt.., what then? Are you going to sweep that under the carpet as well?"
"Let me explain something to you," said Donaldson, "We do not like it any more than you do. Neither does American Express, but let’s look at it on a practical level. No one has been hurt. All the small businesses have been paid out and the only ones out of pocket on the whole deal are American Express, the clearing banks here in London and the Thomas Cook organization. Each of these companies has a contingency fund to cover fraudulent conversion of cheques, travelers' cheques and anything else. They are each willing to cover their share of this loss and are willing to implement new procedures to make it more difficult the next time. With the current loss in cheque fraud last year running at £2,000,000 per day, each of the parties involved is happy that the loss is so small. Therefore, the Treasury Department of the United States and Her Britannic Majesty's Government will be grateful if you, Detective Inspector Roberts, would let your enquiries die a natural death. We can all do without the publicity, both here and in the United States."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, thank you, Detective Inspector Roberts. You may go."
Heath was getting his files on the case up to date when Roberts got back, steaming into the office, nearly taking the door off its hinges. Heath had never seen him in such a temper and kept his head down. The next few minutes seemed like a lifetime as he waited for the storm to abate, as Roberts thrashed his way around the room, sweeping papers of his desk onto the floor, only stopping short of actually breaking up the furniture. Heath was glad there were no other witnesses to see that his chief had finally flipped. He edged his way to the door, unsure of where he was going, but knew he had to get out of the office, not wanting to see the man finally tear himself apart. He was too late.
"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going sergeant; never seen me angry before?" Heath edged over to his desk.
"Perhaps there's something I can help with Sir... something I can do?"
"There's nothing anybody can do; they've taken us off the bloody case," shouted Roberts.
"Who has? Who's taken us off the case?"
"The goddamn Yanks and the Home Office; want the whole thing quietly forgotten, swept under some fucking carpet."
"I take it something bad happened at the Embassy this morning chief?"
"Too bloody true; is there any scotch left?"
Heath retrieved a half-full bottle from the filing cabinet and passed it to his boss who filled him in on the meeting. By the time he had finished, he was a little calmer.
"What are you going to do?" Heath asked him, cautiously.
"I don't see there is anything we can do, Pat, except comply with the request. Any enquiries we make will be frowned on from above and even if we find Chummy, our lords and m
asters don't want him prosecuted, because the publicity might be harmful to the institution's image. I've a good mind to put in my papers."
"Then they'll have won."
"Anyway, we're not finished yet; they might not know about Forbes at the Yard, I think I'll give him a ring." Roberts picked up the phone and dialled Forbes’ number.
"Hello Duncan, Jim Roberts here; any more news?"
"Yes. Interpol think they've found the bank where your man forwarded the money; the Belgae Bank in Brussels."
"That's good news. Anything else?"
"Yes, it seems that one of Interpol's investigating officers had something on the bank manager and pressured him to give some more details on Chummy."
"And?"
"The account was closed a few days ago and all the funds were transferred on Chummy's instructions to the Engelburger Bank in Geneva. However, before you get your hopes up, it was a numbered Swiss account and you know what they're like to deal with."
"Fine, that's great Duncan, but it might be too late."
"What do you mean, too late?" queried Forbes.
"Orders from the Home Office, via the top floor - hands off.., they don't want the publicity."
"You're joking, of course?" commented Forbes incredulously.
"If only I were. Listen Duncan,., do me a big favor and don't stop your enquiries until you're told to and keep me up to date."
"Sure, but why do they want it hushed up?"
"God only knows.., I think they're embarrassed by the whole thing. They say they want the whole thing handled by the U.S Treasury department and I'm expected to hand over my files to them."
"Are you going to?"
"I don't have any choice Duncan - one of the funny men from Whitehall, a man called Hathaway has already reminded me that I've only got 18 months to go before retirement and a pension. You can guess the rest."