Stan Griffin left home early the next morning, and arrived at the Bank late.
For a change, the train from Surbiton got to Waterloo on time, but Stan could tell something was wrong as soon as he headed for the Underground. Couldn’t get near the escalator for people. It was the infamous Waterloo and City Line - happily known as ‘the drain’ - suffering from the after-effects of one of its periodic points failures. Trains were running again, it seemed, and the crowd was slowly shuffling its way forward as the backlog was cleared, but Stan knew it could be ages before he actually got on a train.
He looked at his watch. Was it worth heading for the surface and waiting for a No.76 bus, he wondered?
Probably not. Whatever he did, he was pretty sure he was going to be late anyway, so he decided to stay where he was.
By the time he got to Threadneedle Street, Jim Farlow had left for home. Damn!
Griffin had a quick word with Farlow’s manager, and, having confirmed that Jim was on a late shift again that evening, decided to stay late and have a word with the man before he logged on for his shift.
When he got home later that morning, Jim rang Robin to pass on the codes for one of the remaining accounts that he had managed to get into the previous night. Robin insisted that he should stop immediately; Jim insisted that he would try another account this evening, if he got the chance.
As it happened, he didn’t.
Jim Farlow was summoned to Griffin’s office the minute he arrived, before he even had time to hang his jacket on the back of his chair, never mind log on to his computer.
“Shan’t keep you a minute,” announced Griffin, “but I just wanted a quick word before you start your shift. We’re doing a bit of informal checking on people who could access other bank’s encryption codes and so on.”
“I had heard,” said Jim.
“There’s been a spate of incidents recently which could indicate that someone, somewhere, is trying to hack into the system, so we’ve been asked to check,” said Griffin. “And since you’re one of those in a position to have a go if you were so minded, I have to speak to you as well as all your computer colleagues.”
“That’s OK,” said Jim.
“You haven’t been fooling around, have you, during your night shifts?” asked Griffin. “Just to pass the time, or something?”
“I’ve got my personal hi-fi if it ever gets quiet,” replied Jim, holding up his wallet of CDs, and not quite answering the question.
“Ah, yes,” said Griffin. “So you haven’t been attempting any hacking, then?”
“No,” replied Farlow. Not attempting - succeeding! he thought to himself.
“That’s good then,” replied Griffin. “What sort of music do you like?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Jim handed over the wallet of CDs, which Stan Griffin thumbed through, casually.
“My daughter’s into this sort of thing,” he said. “One or two here I recognise, but not many.” He passed over ‘Pay-back time’ with barely a glance, and handed the wallet back to Jim.
“You’d better log on, or you’ll be late,” he said. “Sorry to have wasted your time.”
“By the way,” said Griffin, as Jim reached the door. “Without wishing to pry unduly, you don’t come from a wealthy family, do you?” It was more a statement than a question.
“No, I don’t”, replied Jim, wondering why he had been asked.
“I was sorry to hear about your father, by the way,” said Griffin. “What did he do for a living, as a matter of interest?”
“He was a bus driver, as a matter of fact,” replied Jim. “And my mother’s a dinner lady at the local school.”
“Highgate, isn’t it?” asked Griffin.
“That’s where I live,” replied Farlow. “My Mum and Dad had a struggle to put me through university.”
“I can understand that,” replied Griffin.
“What’s all this got to do with anything?” asked Farlow.
“Oh, just that someone overheard you telling one of your colleagues in the loo the other day that you didn’t really have to work, as you had plenty in the bank already. So I just wondered, that’s all.”
Jim blushed, and muttered something about “Just a bit of bragging.”
“I see,” said Griffin, and sat down behind his desk, waving Jim away dismissively.
As Farlow shut the door behind him, Stan Griffin reached for his phone and put a call in to Alistair Vaughan.
“Glad you haven’t gone yet,” said Griffin, “but I’ve just had a word with Farlow, and I’m not at all sure that he’s as squeaky-clean as he should be.”
“Why?”
“Just a hunch, really, but he didn’t quite ring true, somehow, and seemed a bit cagey. Shifty, almost.”
“What do you suggest?” asked Vaughan.
“I think we should have a look at his recent bank transactions, and go through his account,” suggested Griffin. “I might also arrange to monitor his workstation, just to make sure he’s not trying to do anything he shouldn’t be doing.”
“Do it then,” instructed Vaughan, who sat thoughtfully for a few moments.
Eventually, he put a call through to Farlow’s line manager.
“Don’t ask me why I want it,” said Vaughan, “but could you possibly let me have a copy of Farlow’s duty roster for the past, say, six months? I’m particularly interested to know when he’s been on nights.”
“No problem,” replied the manager. “I’ll burn one off right away and get my girl to bring it up to you.”
Vaughan pulled out the list of service interruptions sent to him by Global Crossroads, and compared the two documents.
“Now that’s very interesting indeed,” he muttered to himself.
By no means all the incidents logged by GXR coincided with Farlow being on a night duty, but every time Jim had been on a late shift there had also been what GXR called ‘a blip’. Every time, without exception.
But what about the remaining incidents that suggested someone was trying to hack into the system? Even if Farlow had been amusing himself during the silent hours trying to break down the security system, what about the other blips recorded by GXR? Was he working with someone, perhaps?
Vaughan suddenly remembered that some of the other recorded interruptions had coincided with the mysterious transactions into that woman’s account at the Dutch bank - what was her name? Ah, yes - Gladys Hood, - that was it. Ms. Gladys Hood, who has the nephew with an Oxford double first in mathematics, and who has set up his own computer business.
And wasn’t Farlow also a recent graduate from Oxford?
This was getting interesting.
Vaughan wondered if Farlow and Hood had been at Oxford together. He would find out. That would be too much of a coincidence, but it wouldn’t prove anything. In fact, Vaughan wasn’t at all sure what there was to prove. No obvious fraud had come to light yet, and there was no evidence, apart from circumstantial, that anyone had been tampering with the banking industry’s security systems. The Global Crossroads records simply showed the briefest possible interruptions to their service that could have been caused by someone attempting to hack into the system. But they could equally have been caused by something else.
What had Denning told him? They were minor blips on their transmission system, which they were unable to identify or trace. They had appeared, but only ‘appeared’ to the experts at GXR, to indicate attempts at unauthorised access to the banking system, but it was impossible to say where the attempts had been made, if that’s what they were, or if they had been successful.
So Vaughan had no crime, and therefore no motive, and nothing to prove. But he was suddenly very keen to know about Farlow’s bank account.
***
Robin Hood and his colleagues at Computer Solutions were working very hard. The company had expanded fast, with new staff taken on and new projects being developed, as well as the beginnings of work coming in from quite large companies who had problems with their computer networks. Most of these problems turned out to have been caused by members of staff, who either didn’t fully understand how the system worked, or, who, in some cases, had let in viruses through using the Internet.
In fact, Robin’s little company had grown so fast, that it had already been split into two divisions, one dealing with computer maintenance and repair, and the other with the development of new products. A small admin and marketing section, led by Marian, served both parts of the company.
Their most important project, the new banking cryptographic operating system, had been completed and registered in the company’s name. Under Rupert’s guidance, they had planned and rehearsed a presentation to demonstrate both the vulnerability of the old system, and the robustness of their new one. They were about to contact the Bank of England to try to arrange a presentation there, when Robin took a call from Jim Farlow.
“I need to see you urgently,” said Jim, who sounded quite upset.
“Anything wrong?” asked Robin.
“I’ll tell you when we met,” replied Jim. “Apart from anything else, I’ve got a CD that I must give you.”
Robin noted an urgency in Jim’s voice. “When and where do you suggest?” he asked his friend.
“What about that restaurant at the airport hotel where we met before?” suggested Jim.
“OK. When?”
“Lunch tomorrow?” asked Farlow.
“See you there at 12.30,” said Robin, and put the phone down with a worried look on his face.
“What’s up?” asked Marian.
“That was Jim, in a bit of a state. He wants to get rid of our programme CD in a hurry. I’m meeting him for lunch at Heathrow tomorrow, as if I didn’t have enough to do.”
“We haven’t heard from him since he did one of the last three accounts on our list at the end of last week,” Marian reminded him.
“He said then that he wanted to do one more, but he didn’t phone through any details for us,” commented Robin. “I wonder what’s happened.”
“It’s a pity we can’t meet Jim at the airport and then go straight on to meet Will in Nairobi, but that’s all fixed for next week,” said Marian.
“We won’t change our plans now, even if there was time,” said Robin. “But suddenly we seem to have a lot to do all at once, and I really am keen to get on with marketing our new banking system. Hopefully, Rupert will have that fixed up by the time we get back from Kenya.”
“Hopefully, too, we shall be able to go back to Africa for a break some time soon,” said Marian.
Jim was already in the hotel restaurant when Robin arrived.
“It’s good of you to come over,” said Jim. “Sorry about the short notice, but I just had to see you urgently.”
“Whatever’s wrong?” asked Robin. “You look awful. Let’s have a glass of wine and then we can talk without being interrupted, before we order lunch.”
Jim slipped the CD across the table as their drinks arrived. Robin quickly looked at it. It was, as he had suspected, ‘Pay-back time’ by The Tellers.
“You’ve made good use of this,” said Robin. “Thanks.”
“Rather better than you think, actually,” said Jim.
“What do you mean?”
Jim paused.
“I’ve been very foolish, and have let you down badly, I’m afraid,” said a shamefaced Jim Farlow. “While I was accessing all the accounts you wanted, I couldn’t resist creaming off a bit for myself, I’m afraid.”
“Jim, what are you saying,” demanded Robin.
“I’ve been using that programme to help myself to other people’s money, I’m ashamed to admit,” said Jim. “Not a lot, but that doesn’t alter the fact that I was wrong to do it. It’s in several special accounts I opened, and now I’ve been caught. I’ve been sacked from the bank, and I’m to be charged with fraud and theft and God knows what.”
Robin was speechless.
“You don’t need to worry about any part of your operation,” Jim reassured him. “I’ve made sure that nothing can be traced to you, and now you have the programme disc, thank the Lord. It’s a relief to get rid of it, I can tell you. Nobody will ever be able to find out how I did it now you have the disc.”
“But why,” asked an incredulous Robin. “Why on earth did you do it, Jim?”
“I’ve never had any money. Neither have my parents. My father was a bus driver until he died, and my mother works as a dinner lady,” explained Jim. “It was a hell of a struggle for them to get me through university, which is why I hardly ever went out while I was there. But I wanted to reward them in some way - or at least, reward my mother now that dad’s gone.”
“I could have helped, if only you’d said.”
“Kind of you, Robin, but I could never have brought myself to ask you for favours. And then you presented me with a perfect opportunity to help my parents, in the same way that you are helping other people in dire straights.”
“What happens now?” asked Robin.
“I’m on Police bail,” explained Jim quietly. “I shall plead guilty, and tell them where the money is, and where it came from, but not how I got it, of course. Except that I shan’t tell them about quite all of it. I still want to be able to help my Mum while I’m inside - probably eight years, they think.” Jim was damp-eyed.
“We’ll keep in touch, I promise,” said Robin, quite at a loss. “And you must say if I can help - anything.”
Jim Farlow finished his glass of wine, and stood up, holding out his hand.
“I hope you won’t mind if I don’t stop for lunch,” he said. “Lost my appetite.”
The two friends shook hands, and Jim turned to leave.
***
Robin was back at Heathrow a few days later, with Marian this time, on their way to Montreau. Marian had put together a carefully planned itinerary, the main aim of which was to have final meetings with the two Swiss banks. They then planned to go on to Nairobi, to meet Will and Bonkers.
It was Will who had suggested the Nairobi rendezvous, as the situation in Zimbabwe was still a little tense and nobody was quite sure what might happen next. But Robin was keen to see them, if only to brief them first hand on the financial arrangements he had made on their behalf. He wasn’t keen for them to learn about their settlements from the bank before he’d had a chance to talk to them both himself.
In Montreau, they stayed at the Royal Plaza Hotel, as they had on their previous visit, since it was centrally placed for their meetings, and certainly very comfortable. Robin had also been hinting that he might like another trip on one of the old lake steamers if there was time. If not, their room had a balcony overlooking the lake, so he would at least be able to see them go by on their regular, scheduled, journeys.
The couple had built a spare day into their itinerary, as they were both still struggling to get to grips with the news about Jim Farlow. In any case, they hadn’t really had a day off to relax for weeks. But it was immediately obvious that Jim was no longer able to play any further part in their plans, so there was no point in delaying any longer the activation of the next stage of their plan, which was for the two Swiss banks to start distributing the money they had accumulated over recent months. Appalling though Jim’s behaviour had been, he had at least almost completed his part in the operation before being found out. Robin was quite sure, too, that none of Jim’s illegal activities could be traced back to them.
“I have the programme disc that he used and then cleverly disguised,” he had explained to Valya and Grudge, “and Jim has assured me that he has not taken a copy of it. He would have been an even bigger fool to have done that as well.”
“What worries me about it all,” said Grudge, “is that if he can get caught, then so can we.”
“I don’t think so, for several reasons,” Robin reassured them. “First of all, he aroused suspicion himself by chattering to a colleague in the loo - probably after a good lunch somewhere. Then he had been stupid enough to put the cash he had illegally transferred direct into accounts in his own name. Our transactions have been through several banks before ending up in the Swiss accounts, which are not in our name, and the deposits have been made in many different currencies. Finally, the banks in Montreau have no real idea who Marian and I are. One thinks we are representing the Zimbabwean Government, and the other believes we are acting on behalf of a giant American business corporation.”
“I just hope you’re right, that’s all,” said Valya.
“There are two final precautions which I shall take when we’re at the Swiss banks this time,” added Robin. “First of all, I shall transfer responsibility for the future operation of the accounts - in one case, to the Justice for Farmers organisation, and in the other to the bank itself. They can handle the Russian operation from their branch in Moscow. Once I’ve arranged that, I shall ask for my name to be removed from any record of earlier meetings, and for any letters of credit or introduction that I presented to them at our initial meetings to be returned to me. I hope they will be able to comply with all that, but even if not, their reputation for secrecy should be sufficient to safeguard against our ever being identified.”
“My main concern,” said Grudge, “is that we plan to present the new banking operating system to The Bank of England - the very place where Jim Farlow was employed. Surely it would be sensible in view of what has happened to pick another bank, don’t you think? They are bound to be suspicious that we are somehow implicated in what Jim has been doing.”
“Personally,” replied Robin, “I think the risk is minimal. If they do discover that Jim and I were at University together, so what? He has never worked for Computer Solutions, has he, and there is nothing to link what he has been up to with what we have been doing. I still believe it makes sense for us to pitch our marketing at the top, particularly now they have first hand experience of the vulnerability of their present system, thanks to Jim.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Valya.
“I hope you’re right,” said Grudge, emphatically.
“Remember this, too,” said Robin. “Rupert will be making all the arrangements for us to make the presentation, and playing a major role in delivering it to the bank people, whoever they chose to be there. Rupert doesn’t know about Jim and what he’s done, so if they should mention it, it will be a total and genuine surprise to him. I will be there, of course, with Marian in support, working the view foils and flip-charts and so on, and we shall have to pretend to be surprised if they should mention Jim’s activities to us. But since he is now the subject of a criminal investigation, they probably won’t. I guess the most they might do is ask if we ever met him while we were at Oxford, and of course we can say that we did. I don’t believe there is any way they can link Jim’s activities to any of us.”
It was eventually agreed that they should stick to their original plan, and that Rupert would try to fix up their meeting in Threadneedle Street while Robin and Marian were finally sorting things out in Switzerland.
They started with a visit to Monsieur Gilbert, who was at his unctuous best when they were ushered into his office.
“My dear Lady FitzWalter,” he gushed, kissing her hand, “how very nice to meet you again. And you too, sir, of course. Please make yourselves as comfortable as you can in my humble office. May I offer you coffee, or perhaps something a little stronger?”
“Coffee would be nice, thank you,” replied Marian, struggling to choke down a fit of the giggles.
Coffee was quickly served, with much flourish, and M. Gilbert eventually stopped fussing and settled behind his large desk.
“Now tell me,” he said, “just how may I help you this morning? I must confide in you that, before you arrived, I permitted myself a look at your account, and I have to say that I was very pleasantly surprised to note the healthy balance - very pleasantly surprised indeed, if I may be so bold. Beyond my wildest expectations when you first opened the account, I have to admit. So how may I help you this morning?” he repeated with a smile.
“You will recall,” began Robin, “that I explained how most of the victims of the land reclamation policy in Zimbabwe, if I may call it that, were soon to receive compensation, and that, for obvious reasons, the authorities in Zimbabwe were keen to avoid the publicity that would otherwise surround the making of such a change in their policy. Third parties were therefore being employed to put their plan into operation, and it was in this respect that I sought your help. You will also recall, I’m sure, that I told you of my wish that the compensation should flow through this bank.”
Monsieur Gilbert sat back in his swivel chair and nodded. “I also remember that you indicated that you may wish to pass control of the account to a third party once all the deposits had been made.”
“Quite correct,” replied Robin. “The deposits have all now been made, so future growth of the account will depend entirely on the earnings from your own investment portfolio. I intend to pass ownership of the numbered account to the organisation I mentioned, Justice for Farmers, and I shall be going from here to Africa to make the necessary arrangements. I would be glad if you would draw up any paperwork you wish them have, so that I can take it with me.”
“I can easily arrange that,” replied M. Gilbert. “I shall obviously need the signature of their principal, but once the transfer is in place, I can arrange for the lump sum payments to be made to the individual members, and for annuity interest to be paid in accordance with our earlier agreement. It should be quite unnecessary for me ever to contact the organisation, as we shall deal direct with each of the members, whose details you have provided.”
“Excellent,” said Robin. “There are two other things I would like you to do, if you would. First of all, for reasons of security and confidentiality, I wish all references to myself to be deleted from your records, so far as that is possible. You have on your files, for instance, letters of introduction and references which I brought with me for our first meeting, as well as my visiting card, all of which I would like returned while I am here. Secondly, I believe a substantial reduction in your charges is now called for, not least because of your obvious surprise and delight at the amount which has now been put on deposit with you, and from which you will earn far greater interest than you had first envisaged.”
The two men eventually agreed the new administrative charges to be raised against the account, by which time M. Gilbert’s secretary had retrieved the papers that Robin had asked to be returned to him. Finally, they settled on a date when payments would begin to the fifteen hundred or so members of Justice for Farmers.
“You will need to know,” said Robin, “that the Chief Executive of Justice for Farmers is Mr. Wilfred de Burgh.”
“Thank you,” replied the Bank Manager, “I was about to ask, as some of the documents you will need to take with you will need to bear his name. I shall need his signature on a few of them, which he should return to me, but I will assemble a portfolio of documents for him, with full instructions, so you will no longer need to worry about the operation of this account, Mr. Hood.”
Robin and Marian, who had been taking copious notes, stood to leave.
“When will you have this portfolio ready for us?” asked Marian. “We plan to leave in two days time.”
“I shall have them delivered to your Hotel - The Royal Plaza again? - tomorrow evening.”
The couple took their leave of Monsieur Gilbert, who returned to his swivel chair as the door closed, and rubbed his hands in glee, thinking of what he might do with the handsome commission he was now due.
Their meeting the next day with Monsieur Renoir followed much the same lines, but without the informality they had noticed on their first visit to the bank. It was also a quicker meeting, as there were no papers to collect or negotiations to be completed. Robin began to remind M. Renoir of the background to the account that he had opened.
“I refreshed my memory before you arrived,” interrupted Renoir, “and I remember that you represent a large American business that wishes to pay compensation to some Russian mathematicians, but without attracting undue attention to itself.”
“Absolutely right,” agreed Robin.
“And I take it that the account you opened now contains all the deposits you mentioned when you were first here?”
“Right again,” replied Robin.
“I must confess,” admitted M. Renoir, “that the account balance is considerably larger than I anticipated, so that is good news for the beneficiaries n’est pas?”
“Indeed,” said Robin.
“So now the account is complete, and we have the names of those who will benefit from the capital sum to be paid and the subsequent annuity payments, you wish me to transfer the operation of the account to our Moscow office, is that so?” enquired M. Renoir.
“That is exactly what I would like you to do Monsieur Renoir,” replied Robin. “I also want nothing further to do with the account personally, so would welcome the deletion of my name from your records, s’il vous plais.”
“Certainly, monsieur. I shall personally see to the destruction of any documents containing your name. However, although you may now leave the operation of this account and the future annuity payments in the hands of this bank with complete confidence, it would be sensible to have a contact in the event of any problems occurring,” suggest M. Renoir.
Robin and Grudge had anticipated this. “In case of such a need, you should contact Sergei Volkov, who provided the list of names which I passed to you earlier. He is now a Professor of Mathematics at Oxford University and one of the beneficiaries,” explained Robin, who passed across Grudge’s address.
On their return to the Royal Plaza, Robin and Marian went to the bar opposite reception, and ordered champagne.
“I think we’ve done just about all we need to do,” said Marian. “And I think we have achieved all we initially set out to do, as well, which is very rewarding.”
“Not only that,” agreed Robin, “but it’s going to be the devil’s own job to identify us with anything that we’ve done. I think we’ve covered our tracks as best we can, and I’m sure the secrecy with which Swiss banks pride themselves will be added security for us.”
“All we need to do now is wait for the papers from Monsieur Gilbert, and take them to Nairobi,” said Marian.
“I particularly want to be able to tell Will and Bonkers what we’ve laid on for them, and for Will’s father, so agreeing for the bank to take responsibility for everything next week gives us ample time to do that,” said Robin.
“It will be nice to see them both again,” said Marian, “and it’s great that they’ve been able to persuade Wilfred de Burgh to meet us in Nairobi, too. It will save a lot of travelling.”
“And once he’s got the papers from Gilbert, we shall have nothing further to do with this little exercise at,” said Robin.
“It really will be quite a relief, in a way,” sighed Marian. “We shall be able to get on with our own lives again, and not worry too much about other people’s.”
“I’ll drink to that,” replied Robin, raising his glass.
***
They travelled to Nairobi by the same route they took the first time - to Zurich by train, and then, after an overnight stop, a direct flight early the next morning. They arrived on time, early in the evening, and went straight to the New Stanley Hotel, where they had first met Will Bartlett and Bwonqa Mbele, and where they had arranged to meet them again, for dinner. It was a happy reunion, although Will was obviously worried by the turn of events in Harare.
“I’ve been in touch with your chum at the Embassy quite a lot,” said Will, “although I wouldn’t want too many people to know about it.”
“What’s going on, then?” asked Marian. “We’ve seen nothing in the papers.”
“Neither have the people who live in Harare,” replied Will. “The State controls the media, so The Herald only prints what the Government wants it to print. But there’s a lot of anxiety about the place, and some of the rumours that are flying around are beginning to cause rumblings of unrest.”
“It really could turn nasty at any time,” added Bonkers. “I’ve been working, part time and just for something to do, at the Cafe Afrique in the Cresta Oasis Hotel, so I pick up plenty of gossip, and most people are worried about the immediate future.”
“Everyone seems to have heard about the top brass losing their money in some mysterious way,” said Will, “in spite of there being nothing official.”
“And everyone’s worried about what they are going to do about it,” added Bonkers, “and whether their own money is safe.”
Robin knew that it was, so far as his activities were concerned, but said nothing.
“According to what I can gather,” said Will, “the President is thrashing around all over the place, trying to blame everyone in sight, à.”
“And some who aren’t,” interrupted Bonkers, “like the UK Government.”
“à quite,” said Will. “And he’s particularly keen to get his cash back, since he’s having his own new palatial residence built ready for his retirement, and can’t pay the bills. I don’t think even he would op