CHAPTER FIVE.
After they had arrived at Heathrow and parked the car in the long-term area, Vincent led him to the short term level three, and spotted a blue Rover with CD plates with a Russian flag perched on the mudguard. Crossing over quickly he opened the rear door and bundled Raulf inside.
“Passport please” said the Driver.
Raulf handed it across and the driver had him sign a duplicate form. He then applied the visa to passport and embossed it carefully.
“But when I arrive they will surely have no record.”
“Incorrect, two records exist already. And now the other man if you please.”
Raulf exchanged places with Vincent and the driver went through the same procedure. They both then headed for the air counter where they queued at the ticket counter. Luckily they were early and the queue was short so they soon had their boarding passes.
“I’ve an old school friend here at the terminal, often pop in to see him if I’m passing, his names David Ramsey, I’ll meet you in the departure lounge if that’s OK.”
Vincent nodded and headed for the terminal viewing area.
Raulf then climbed onto an escalator to travel up to the terminal office level, someone brushed his arm, and he turned expecting to see Vincent.
“Mr.Turpin?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Raulf Turpin due to fly to Moscow?”
“Yes, who are you?”
“I’m Sergeant Redman, I have someone who wishes to meet you.”
“I’m sorry Sergeant but I have some business to attend upstairs, perhaps they would ring my office and make an appointment.”
“I must insist Sir.”
“Your warrant card please”.
Redman handed his Special Branch ID to Raulf who nodded and then followed the policeman to a corridor just off the main concourse, where there were rows of offices with various airline names screen-printed on the panels. Redman selected a wooden door, knocked and ushered Raulf into the room. He closed and locked the door and indicated that Raulf should sit before the desk at which an older slightly bold figure sat.
“This is Major Jackson, from the Ministry Mr. Turpin,” Redman then sat on a chair between Raulf and the door.
“In case I wish to leave quickly?” Raulf smiled at the policeman, and nodded at the door
“No you may not leave, certainly not unless I allow it.” Major Jackson tapped a pencil on the desk.
“May I ask what this is all about?”
“I should ask you the same question, Russia’s not normally on your list of destinations, why now?”
“May I ask which ministry you represent Major?”
“No you may not, just answer the bloody question.”
“I’m on an assignment to overview a Russian company for a client.”
“What client?”
“None of your business.”
“Sergeant.”
Raulf felt a sharp blow across his head.
“How dare you,” he turned and rose angrily up, but Redman punched him in the stomach and forced him back into the chair.
“Who is your client?” the Major spat out again.
Raulf remained silent.
“Turpin you will make things hard on yourself, so answer the question now.”
“Like Solicitors and Priests, accountants are justified in keeping their clients to themselves, and is this the Britain I pay taxes for?”
Jackson nodded and Redman kicked Raulf’s chair from under him, sending him sprawling against the desk.
“Search him.” Jackson ordered.
Redman held him down and grabbed Raulf’s coat, then handed it to Jackson who withdrew the wallet and checked inside. Raulf’s business cards cascaded out. In pain on the floor he could still hear the sounds of the wallet being emptied, and thought how he had disposed of the contact card the previous night. Carry nothing to incriminate, Vincent had told him.
‘”His briefcase.”
Redman hoisted it up and Jackson tried the clasp. The security number Turpin.”
“No, that’s private property,” Raulf wheezed.
Redman kicked him and Raulf yelped in pain.
The door crashed open and two airport security men burst in. Redman was thrown against the wall by one of them, while Jackson was pinned to the table.
“How dare you, enter this office.” Jackson glared up to the security man, then looked up to see David Ramsey standing in the doorway.
“No Major, if that is who you are, how dare you use my terminal in this way, and look at the mess you’ve made of one of my customers.”
Redman picked himself up and drew out his warrant card.
“I am from Special Branch and the Major and I are on lawful business.”
“Punching and kicking” Raulf blurted out.
“Can’t have that in here Raulf, give us all a bad name,” David turned to his two men,
“ Throw them out, into the canteen skip.”
“I’ll have you reported to a higher authority.” Jackson sneered.
“Come on Raulf let my lads take care of them, you can sue when you come back, Ok lads into the smelliest bin you can find.”
“OK Boss, “ the security men hauled Redman and Jackson out of the room.
“Sorry about this Raulf, these two just asked for a room from reception, said they were drug busters. Your friend Vincent rang me five minutes ago and said you were in strife. So here I am with my security.”
“They seemed efficient David.”
“Ex SAS, we keep a small anti terror group here, my two will lock them up and do some investigating themselves, contacts all over the place.”
“Thanks anyway.” Raulf picked up his coat and wallet.
“Didn’t know accounting was so troublesome you should have stuck to economics. Where are you off to now?”
“Russia.”
Vincent met them in the main concourse and took Raulf aside.
“I have rung Partridge Cottage, we are to proceed as arranged. Sir Hubert is not happy about the apparent leak, probably came from the Russian Embassy.”
“That driver whom we met?”
“Unlikely as he did show up on time, but a leak from there directly into the ears of the Intelligence Service should set some alarm bells ringing. He’d appreciate the information which your friends security men may obtain as well, so perhaps Mr.Ramsey would ring him with the details?” Vincent handed him a paper with a telephone number.
Raulf repeated the request to David who agreed to find out what he could then ring Sir Hubert. Then shaking hands he and Vincent walked though to Passport Control and the departure lounges.
“Thanks for getting me out of that mess Vincent.”
Vincent grunted, whether in disapproval or appreciation Raulf couldn’t tell.
The eight-hour flight was at least instructive, as Raulf studied the brief of the Russian Company in his case. They had been prepared somewhat superficially, his visit would be to flesh out the environment, check the performance of the people, as well as nose out the problems, if they existed. He was sure that this was a genuine inquiry via Sir Hubert for Lord Jarman the industrialist, not a cardboard front merely superimposed to cover their real purpose.
They landed in a cool grey evening, with a shower of icy September rain to greet them as they left customs and stepped onto Russian soil.
They were met by the trade commissioner from the Embassy who drove them to their hotel, saying as they lifted their cases out of the boot, that he would pick them up tomorrow for their meeting.
Their audit of the company took in four days of solid work, Vincent helped in the overview of the production lines, checking the machinery against the asset list whilst Raulf audited the books, checked out the departmental efficiencies or lack of them as in a few cases. Each day, Errol Dobbs, the trade commissioner, picked them up.
“You’ll be off back home tomorrow then?” Dobbs directed his question as they neared the hotel.
“Two more days I’m afraid.” Raulf was checking through some sheets.
“Oh?”
“We intend to follow up on some of their major suppliers. You often can judge a company by the company they keep.”
“Eh?”
“If the suppliers match up we go home.”
“And if not?”
“We still go home.’
“I’ll bring the car tomorrow then.”
“Thanks for the offer Mr. Dobbs but we’ve hired our own Taxi for the next two days, you’ve been too kind already, and your transport is tax payers money.”
“But.”
“Goodbye and thanks Mr.Dobbs.” Vincent’s hand opened the door and helped Raulf out.
As they watched Dobbs drive away Vincent nodded at its rear. “Too persistent.” He said.