|
UG2:Spying By Numbers
Part 8 Scilly Boys |
First posted here in 2014/5, this story had only been available on Kindle since 2017. The third & fourth books are also now out.
Heather wasn't far from New Scotland Yard so walked from Thames House when she was done there just after eleven, enjoying the warm day. There were plenty of tourists around but the streets weren't overly busy. The plan was to meet in a café, but Heather's phone rang before she reached it.
"Where are you?"
"I'm just coming onto Victoria Street."
"Okay, can you come round to Broadway House, it's behind NSY, your name will be at the desk."
"Right."
Heather was now used to this type of conversation. There was no point asking for further information over the phone as none would be given.
She arrived at the front desk of Broadway House and showed her MI5 identity card, they apparently knew what it was. Of course, she immediately set off the metal detector.
"Could you empty your bag?"
"I know what it is, it's my Glock." Heather was now wearing a pouch around her waist containing the weapon, she unclipped the bag and put it down.
"My firearms certificate is in my bag, in one of the side pockets."
This took another minute to deal with before she was allowed to pick her weapon up.
"I've noted your record to include you are licensed to carry a weapon, Miss Young. The serial number confirms that we issued it, although it was initially issued to another name."
"That would have been Abigail Adams."
"Yes."
Heather made a mental note, this was a link between two of her identities, her legal name and her professional name.
A few minutes later she was on the fifth floor and in Emily Keane's office, she wasn't alone.
"Good morning Heather, I'd like to introduce you to Assistant Commissioner Harry Godfrey and DI Kevin Edmunds. Of course you know Sophie!"
"Of course Emily, good morning DI Edmunds, Assistant Commissioner." She shook their hands.
"Miss Young, please call me Harry."
"Only if you call me Heather."
"Done. Now Heather, I was very impressed with the way you handled yourself during the investigation, unfortunately the focus of the enquiry shifted and some people close to the enquiry were themselves investigated. It became a little messy."
"Quite."
"I'd therefore be grateful if you could remain in contact with this unit as there may be other work coming your way, if you would like it?"
"Thank you sir, Harry, so long as the Security Service don't mind."
"I wouldn't have thought that would be a problem, Heather, as our work dovetails with theirs rather often."
"If you say so."
"I do, anyway, well done. I'll be off." With that he left.
DI Edmunds was still sat there, Emily now explained why.
"Heather, we have intelligence that an attack will be carried out on our air infrastructure in the next few months. What isn't yet known are the targets or the timing, DI Edmunds will explain."
"Thank you Emily. Heather, it looks like we will be hit sometime in December but as Emily said, the location is unclear. Security around Heathrow, Gatwick and Stansted is already tight but putting additional assets in now will just tip them off."
"Understood but I can't see anywhere that I might be useful, yet."
"Very true but as we identify who's involved then we'll need to analyse their accounts. Right now we have one name, but no location or other details. If you can handle the work, when it starts to come in, then that would be of value to us. Your liaison will remain DI Keane."
"Okay Kevin, I guess it's a 'wait and see' issue now?"
"Correct." He stood, shook hands and left, closing the door behind him.
"Emily, is he for real?"
"Yes, he's certain there is an operation being prepared but information is scarce at the moment."
"I guess I will have to wait. Now, has Sophie told you about the cottage? Are you certain that this is what you both want to do?"
"Yes, Emily," they both replied.
"Is there anything going on between you? Not that it's really my business."
Heather and Sophie looked at each-other. They had grown closer over the past few weeks and Sophie was now much more of a partner than a live-in bodyguard. She elected to answer.
"No, Emily, not as such. We're growing more like sisters so there's a better understanding and indeed some affection but we're not in a relationship."
"Okay, but I do wish you well for the future. No doubt we'll be in touch anyway."
"No doubt, Jenny's confirmed this morning that a secure phone will be installed in the cottage once we have the keys, as well as the other necessary security arrangements."
"You can run to Cornwall but you can't hide, not any more!"
"Maybe the Outer Hebrides would be a better idea?" That earned her a jab in the side from Sophie.
"Emily, I had a small problem downstairs, can we fix it please?"
The weekend was a frantic time. Heather had now been asked to go back to St Mary's Chandlers on Monday, but something else was complicating their lives.
Sophie and Heather had jointly bought the cottage after Sophie had sold her flat. The decision to cement their lives together had been taken early during their recent stay in the Scilly Isles, the sale had been agreed even before they had left the Scilly Isles. That meant urgently arranging to have the contents of her flat brought to Redhill in a hired van, which was now sat outside awaiting the next move.
The had also needed a solicitor, but Helen wasn't available. Jenny had come up with the solution - use anyone! The point here was to be ordinary, not to try to beat the system. Sophie appointed a solicitor to handle the sale of her flat whilst they both found one in Redruth to handle the purchase. Heather remembered the conversation well.
"So this is a holiday home you're buying?"
"No, we're planning to live there."
"You'll still have a London address?"
"No that will be somewhere to stay instead of using a hotel when I have to go into England."
"Oh, too many English say that but really just want a holiday cottage."
"Do they?"
"Yes, for example the centre of St Agnes is dead in the winter, too many empty cottages. It's a real problem."
"I can promise that we'll be Cornish residents, I'm working on a contract in the Scillys at the moment."
"What's your job?"
"A forensic accountant, I will be checking your invoices carefully."
Logistics didn't seem to be one of Heather's greatest strengths.
"Is this a sensible idea, Sophie?"
"I can't see there being a choice, you wanted to go for a swim this morning instead of getting on the road."
"I could cancel Monday?"
"That wouldn't be professional, especially as you agreed to be back there tomorrow without checking with me first."
"I didn't realise ........"
The cushion fight that followed was brief but had the pair giggling soon after.
They left Redhill on Sunday night in the hired van containing a fair chunk of Sophie's furniture, although some things like beds would be bought later. Now that Heather had her driving licence she was ready to have a go on the open road, the only problem was that she'd never driven at night; Sophie took the wheel.
The aim was to reach Penzance, in the far South West of Cornwall, which itself is the most South-Westerly county in England, in time for the morning ferry to St Marys. The journey time was just over five hours but that didn't take account of stops for breaks, toilets, or breakfast. This meant leaving Redhill at ten at night.
They'd reached Andover around eleven o'clock when Sophie suggested Heather took over,
"The steering is a bit heavy and the clutch needs to be treated a bit carefully but it's not too bad. There's a limiter so you can't go over sixty regardless how far down you push the throttle! Just remember, with all that weight in the back that stopping will take longer."
Carefully, Heather put herself in front of the steering wheel, adjusted her seat and checked the mirror. She prepared to pull away and stalled it.
"I said to be careful with the clutch, put the brake on and start again."
Second time around Heather did pull away and her confidence grew. After another hour they swapped around again, this time taking a short break.
By the time they crossed into Cornwall, after running across Dartmoor on the A30, it was just after four in the morning. They decided to keep going to Penzance and to take breakfast there. The ferry was at nine fifteen but they had to check in by eight thirty and avoid school traffic. The easiest way was to park the van in the port when they arrived just before six and take a walk, looking for somewhere to eat.
They drove off the ferry at half eleven and returned to the same guest house they had stayed in a week or so earlier. This time they knew they had to share a twin room, but this was only for a few days so neither objected too loudly. The guest house manager was apologetic and promised extra helpings at breakfast and dinner!
The van was already parked and alarmed, Sophie had added a few extra alarms - just in case. They headed to a pub for lunch, but Heather stayed off the alcohol as she had a meeting to go to.
As they walked out of The Mermaid Inn they found Sgt Marc Taylor, the Island's senior police officer.
"Hello Marc."
"You're back? I thought you had work in London?"
"We did, can we have a chat somewhere?"
"How about a walk down to the harbour?"
A few minutes later they were sat, clear of anyone listening in.
"Firstly Marc, I've resigned as a police officer."
"Oh, what's behind that decision?"
"Two fold, it enables me to do things that I couldn't when I was serving."
"True, but you wouldn't be engaging in illegal activities, would you?"
"No, but I might be around at odd hours for the next few days, in case any of your officers are doing very late or very early patrols."
"Okay, but it sounds like I shouldn't let the team know."
"I'd rather it was that way, if there are any problems then myself or Heather should be able to explain, failing that someone in the Met would ring you."
"The Met, but you resigned?"
"I'm now a Special with a loose brief, still connected to the Counter Terrorist Unit. Officially though I'm a security consultant and I work part-time for Heather."
"This sounds complicated."
"I'm giving you the simple version."
"But why are you telling me?"
"This is a small island and nothing goes on here that you don't hear about, I'd rather you didn't go sniffing but just ask one of us any direct questions you have."
"Fair enough. Please don't do anything stupid whilst you're here, though, I hate filling in reports."
"Sorry to leave you Marc, but I need to see the CEO of St Mary's Chandlers."
"Say hello to Peter for me, he doesn't deserve this hassle."
"That's why I'm back here, to help him sort it out."
"Be careful!"
"Thanks."
Heather hadn't wanted that conversation as it could potentially lead to the Sergeant making enquiries, discrete or otherwise, about her. Sophie, however, had argued that giving Marc enough of the story would be sufficient to keep him satisfied. She wondered about calling Jenny and letting her know but figured nothing about the wider enquiry had been disclosed, she could always include it in a later report.
She walked up to the Chandlers and strolled into the showroom which was littered with yachting and boating supplies, diving and fishing equipment, plus stores of food for those setting off on transatlantic voyages or simply on their round-Britain trip.
She climbed the stairs to Peter Cookson's small office and tapped on the door to get his attention.
"Hello Heather, please close the door and take a seat. I'm really grateful that you could get back here."
"Peter, as I said last time, I really like it on the island so don't mind one bit."
"What about your other clients?"
"I've just finished a major job and was on St Mary's taking a break before looking for something new, you know the rest."
"Well, I'm just pleased you can help us. Anyway, I need to bring you up to date. Firstly, I brought in new controls on cash handling and two people are now required to check cash in or out."
"Good, that's good practice anyway and should have been implemented already."
"As you know, I relied on my managers to apply policies and I had to extend trust."
"Well, it does no harm to confirm that policies are being adhered to. What's your check for the cash handling?"
"I nominate a random member of the staff each day to supervise the cash transfers or payments. They maintain a separate log which lives in my safe."
"Okay, have you checked the identity of all staff members, as I recommended?"
"That was a tough one as some of these guys have worked for the company for thirty or more years."
"I can understand, but we need to verify the identities of some of the boat crews, for example, I'm not convinced their tax and NI arrangements are satisfactory. That's something that Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs would focus on."
"I quite agree, but it hadn't been a problem until recently, the boatmen looked after themselves."
"How about asking each of the boatmen to come up here, I can run a tax and national insurance clinic for them?"
"That sounds like a good idea. You sure you don't want to do it in the harbour?"
"Definitely, much safer here, I can also use your photocopier if necessary."
"Of course."
"When are we going to do this?"
"I have to be in Cornwall on Friday and probably head back to London after the weekend, so we have tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday. How about I be here from four to six every afternoon on those days?"
"That will mean the crew off the diving trips, which get back around then, could be here by five at the latest and the lobster crew could be here any-time before they take the boat out."
"Fine. I might be here a bit earlier on Tuesday to get myself setup, my assistant Sophie will be with me."
"I've not met her yet."
"She doesn't bite, not often anyway."
After dinner Heather suggested she and Sophie took a walk, postulating loudly that they could go to The Bishop & Wolf pub. Once outside the walked down to the beach on the southern side of Hugh Town and sat on the sand.
"I don't know how many of the crew we'll see with this clinic but I couldn't think of anything else."
"If you're not forcing them to see you then there will be less suspicion, plus they will all know about the threat of a visit from the tax man, this was a smuggling town until the recent past, some would say it still is."
"It might be interesting to see who doesn't come up then?"
"Correct, I'll have a think about that. How are you going to play it at the Chandlers?"
"I can use their old accountants office but I'd like a couple of cameras put up, discretely of course."
"I thought you might ask. Now what are we doing tomorrow morning?"
"Do you fancy a boat ride?"
"Sounds like an idea, I must put some cameras in my bag."
"Plenty of photography to be had, I hear."
"Exactly, anyway let's have a beer."
"Well, that was a waste of time."
Sophie spoke as the pair walked from St Mary's Chandlers after two hours of Heather's tax clinic.
"Not quite, we did see three people."
"But one of those was a woman asking why she hadn't had her widow's pension."
"It's a shame, her husband had just been in looking for their cat."
"Of course the third one was the CEO himself who wanted to make sure he wasn't over-paying his own tax."
"Never mind, there's always tomorrow, and the next day."
"Thanks, what's your plan tonight?"
"Falmouth Coastguard told Emily that the Chandler's Boy comes back in around one. The cameras on board will store twenty four hours of video which I can download later, that's assuming they didn't find the cameras."
"Look, my distraction couldn't have been too bad, good enough for you to plant the cameras."
"Falling in?"
"It certainly grabbed their attention."
"True, when did you buy that bikini?"
"Jenny got it for me when I was still at the house, it does tend to hide things well."
"Nobody had a hint you weren't anything other than you appeared. When are you having the boob job, by the way?"
"Don't know, it's not high on the priorities, they're coming along nicely though."
"You are a little ticklish there."
"Hmmm. What else did Falmouth Coastguard say?"
"Changing the subject?"
"Yes."
"Well, apparently the Chandler's Boy usually does a run into Penzance on a Thursday, how about I sail on it?"
"I'm sure Peter could sort that out. I take it you'll need supplies?"
"Something like that."
"I'm hungry Heather, what did you tell the guest house?"
"That we'd eat out."
"Is there an Indian or a Chinese restaurant on the island?"
"Don't think so."
"Damn? It'll have to be pasty and chips again, won't it."
"It's very traditional, you know?"
"I don't think they threw chips down into the tin mines for the miners' lunches."
"Maybe not, but I hope they had a pot of sweet pickle to go with the pasty."
"Get lost Heather!"
On Wednesday morning the pair walked down to the harbour and sat on the sea wall, overlooking Chandlers Boy. Sophie had her laptop out, reading her emails, although it was also downloading the video from four cameras. She'd review it later.
They watched the boat sail at ten that morning, by which time the cameras had been wiped and were recording afresh. Heather had taken the opportunity to talk to come of the crew the previous day and again this morning to make little suggestions about their tax affairs that were worth talking about in depth.
She had also asked about the night crew, did anyone have their phone numbers? It seemed there was a little reticence to give up this information, which was strange considering how small the island was. One name was forthcoming however, the lobster pot captain of Chandlers Boy was identified as Billy Trethgarwyn. Several of his crew were assumed to be his own sons.
Surprisingly little was known of Billy Trethgarwyn, only that he'd worked for the Cookson family for nearly forty years, taken on when Peter Cookson's grandfather ran St Mary's Chandlers. Apparently he didn't have a mobile or even a landline at home but Heather didn't doubt that these enquiries would reach Billy's ears.
Sophie took her laptop back to the van and backed up the hard-drive before uploading the video to a cloud server somewhere on the planet, she hadn't watched it yet but didn't fancy losing any of the data accidentally. Heather, meanwhile, decided to pay a visit to a café close to the St Mary's site of the Five Islands School.
"Coffee please."
"Milk?"
"Yes, thanks."
"Sugar's on the table. Are you that accountant?"
"That's me."
"I hope you don't mind me asking, seeing as you're not from the islands, why are you helping Peter Cookson?"
"I was on holiday here and I didn't like the idea of a long established company going under because the numbers didn't add up."
"But once you leave St Mary's it wouldn't be your concern any more?"
"I don't look at life that way. In any case, I'm only going as far as Redruth when I'm done here so can fly back from Newquay."
That seemed to be sufficient for the café owner, it was clear that suspicion of those from off the Scillys was an uncomfortable bed fellow to the need for tourism and trade from the mainland. Heather knew she was taking a chance here but one way to connect to the island's population was to talk to the mothers of the local students.
Her conversation at the counter had not gone unnoticed, Heather smiled as she sat down by herself. It was a few minutes before a mid-twenties lady slid over to Heather's table.
"Hello." She spoke softly, trying not to be overheard.
"Hi, are you giving tax advice this afternoon?"
"At the Chandlers, yes, when I'll have all of my guides with me, but do you have a question for me now?"
"Well, my husband is one of the boat crew and he is paid his money after tax and NI have been paid but now the revenue are writing to say he hasn't been paying anything."
"That is definitely not right. Can he see me this afternoon?"
"He's frightened to say anything as he might lose his job."
"Why does he think that?"
"It's that manager up there, Steve Daly, he bullies them into accepting whatever he says."
Steve Daly was the human resources manager, responsible for the payroll; he had deliberately avoided Heather on her visits to the company except for the first time when they'd been introduced. Heather decided then and there he was worthy of extra attention, some discrete checks were in progress.
"I'll be back here in the morning if you can bring me his last few wages slips?"
"He doesn't get a wages slip, just an envelope with an amount on it. They all do."
This was very wrong, was Peter Cookson aware?
"I am very concerned, thank you for letting me know about this. If your husband has a change of heart, I'll be there from four until six today and from one to three tomorrow."
"Thanks, I'll let him know."
Heather made her way back to the guest house and found Sophie reviewing the video.
"This is very boring, there's nothing out of the ordinary happening."
The image on the screen was of the open deck, showing lobster pots being hauled up, she switched the window to being up the wheelhouse camera.
"That's Trethgarwyn, the crew are calling him Billy or Cap'n. I have names and faces for most of the night crew now."
"I had a little chat with one of the wives, they're being paid cash with no records of deductions."
"Naughty."
"Exactly, I need to see if Jenny has an answer for me."
She switched on her own laptop and connected the portable encryptor. A minute or so later she was online and checking her emails.
"I have a reply for Steve Daly, he has form for fraud."
"Well, well."
"Here's an interesting bit, Sophie, Chandlers Boy isn't owned by the company, it's owned by Daly and Trethgarwyn. The ownership was transferred in 2012."
"When did Daly join the company?"
"Late 2011."
"And his conviction?"
"Convicted in 2010 and given two years but only served eight months."
"I wonder if Marc knows about him?"
"Do you think Marc would tell you anything?"
"He might, but I'd have to give him a good reason."
"Try it, he's a decent man and you say he's a good copper?"
-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued
Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle
