UG2:Spying By Numbers Part 9 Taxing Issues

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 walked up to St Mary's Chandlers at half past three, following gaggles of school age children from five to sixteen years old. She was deliberately earlier than she needed, the previous day she'd arrived at five to four and just caught a glimpse of Steve Daly exiting the carpark. Today she hoped he would be in his office, she wasn't wrong.

"Hello."

"Oh, you. I was just going."

"Well, I hope you can spare me a minute, could I have a printout of last month's payroll?"

"I can't give that to you."

"Yes you can, Peter Cookson expressly said I could look at anything I needed to."

"I'm saying different." He shut down his computer, locked loose papers in a drawer and stood up.

"Your minute's up and I have somewhere else to be. I think you're wasting your time here, anyway. Good bye."

He walked out, leaving Heather stood in his office. She walked around his desk and sat in the still-warm seat. Reaching into her bag she pulled out a USB device and plugged it in, she then booted the PC and waited for it to load her special system.

Automatically all the documents, spreadsheets, photos, emails and web history were copied, for later review. She then powered down the PC and removed the device, dropping it into her bag. The whole operation had taken under two minutes.

She had just stood when Steve Daly returned.

"I wouldn't bother trying to hack my computer, love, it's got a super strong password."

"I'm not your love, did you come back just to taunt me?"

"No, but I did want to lock my office door before you tried something silly."

"I was leaving, this computer's much too complicated for me." She had reached the doorway.

"See, I've saved you all that wasted effort."

Heather didn't bother to answer, but she walked down to the showroom floor and put her laptop on a desk. Sophie arrived as Daly was exiting the building. There was a shout of an expletive and he stormed back.

"Did one of you do that to my car?"

"Do what?"

"Let my front tyres down."

"Mr Daly, I've been in here the whole time and you went out to your car a few minutes ago before coming back in to goad me, and plainly didn't spot anything wrong that time."

"What about you? Who are you?"

"I'm Miss Young's assistant and you can put that accusatory finger somewhere else."

"Well, did you do that to my car?"

"Which one's your car? I've never seen you before."

Steve Daly stormed back out, reaching for his phone to call the local garage. Sophie just smiled, she had just put the dust cap on the driver's side front wheel when he'd come out of the building the first time. She had managed to remain hidden and took the chance to deflate the front passenger side wheel when he came back in.

"Do you reckon we'll get many takers?"

"No, but I'm gathering what information I can."

"Okay."

It was still only three forty-five so they weren't expecting anyone. A few minutes later they were surprised when Billy Trethgarwyn walked in. He was a man easily in his fifties, heavily bearded with a slight odour of mackerel.

"Hello, you must be Billy."

"And you must be that bird who's poking 'er nose into things."

"I don't have feathers or wings."

"You know what I mean.

"No really, I don't. I'm here because Peter Cookson needs my services."

"I think you should know that there's a ferry at five, your van will be on it."

"Whether or not we're in the van?"

"Yes."

"That's threatening behaviour, Mr Trethgarwyn." Sophie bit her tongue, she shouldn't use police jargon in case it gave her away. Her phone beeped.

"You've been watching too many of those police TV programmes. It was just some advice."

Sophie was monitoring her phone and not paying attention to the annoying captain. She suddenly put it to her lips and said "step away from the vehicle."

A second later there was a loud noise from the town.

"Step away from the vehicle"

She monitored the phone for a few seconds more then put it away.

"Mr Trethgarwyn, I'm afraid your little gang of boys have been scared off."

"What's this trickery of yours?"

"Oh, everybody in London has this. It records video too, I can show you how Billy junior and Scotty are trying to get into the van, have a look." Her phone was back in her hand, Trethgarwyn was out of the door.

It was ten minutes later when Sgt Marc Taylor arrived.

"Hello ladies, I've had a complaint about a very loud talking van that frightened Mrs Denison's pussycat onto the roof and now he won't come down."

"Hello Marc, do you have any idea how silly that sounds?"

"Yes, now please tell me what's going on."

"Billy Trethgarwyn just tried to frighten us into leaving St Mary's this afternoon, two of his boys went to break into our van whilst he was here. I have a few security devices on the van, do you want to see the video of then trying to jemmy the door? I think they left the crowbar there when they ran."

"Do you want to make a complaint?"

"No, I don't think they'll try that again. We're here until Friday, nothing will change that."

After the Scilly Isle's senior police officer had left the showroom, Heather and Sophie resumed doing nothing. One of the salesmen was around, mostly taking phone orders for boats that would be in the harbour the following day but he didn't say one word to them. Peter Cookson, CEO of St Mary's Chandlers eventually returned at five thirty.

"How's it gone?"

"Dead. Can we have a chat in your room? By the way, this is Sophie my assistant."

"Hi Sophie."

"Hello, I understand Chandlers Boy is doing a run into Penzance in the morning."

"Yes, she usually sails around nine, depending on the tide."

"I'd like to sail on her if you don't mind."

"I can't see that being a problem, just let them know in the morning that I've okay'd it."

"Thanks Peter, it'll be useful for me if Sophie observes the crew."

"I can't see how, but then you are here to find those missing pounds."

"Yes. By the way, I had a little run-in with your human resources manager."

"Oh, he was screaming at me on the phone about someone letting down his tyres."

"He accused both of us, that was after he obstructed me when I asked for the payroll data."

"I've told him he should co-operate."

"I know, I was there."

"I'll tell him to give you a copy of the whole lot, presumably you want this year and last year?"

"I think I'd better go back to the 2011-2012 year and everything since."

"Precautionary, I hope?"

"Something like that. We'd best get going,"

"Okay, I'll come down with you and lock up."

They walked back to the guest house but checked the van first, one of the tyres had been partially deflated, Sophie shrugged - if anyone wanted to move the van now then they would have to sort that out first, what an irony. The van could wait until Friday morning.

They ate in the guest house that night, although weren't too pleased when the evening meal was a traditional Cornish pasty, that'll be three days running so far.

After dinner they took a walk down to the harbour, just as Chandlers Boy left its' berth. There was no time to download the video from the four onboard cameras so that would have to be done the following morning. With nothing else to do they headed back so Heather could file an updated report. Sophie grabbed another piece of equipment from the van, a broach camera.

***

The pair were out of the guest house soon after eight and walked straight to the harbour. Chandlers Boy was moored in its' usual spot and members of the crew were loading equipment onboard, some of which had RNLI Lifeboat insignia. Then one of the local lifeboat crew came over and stepped onto the boat.

Whilst Heather sat down, holding Sophie's laptop, Sophie herself walked over and explained to the day captain John Denison that she had Peter Cookson's permission to sail with them.

"He can't give permission, I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I'm the captain therefore I'm legally responsible for this vessel and that means I say who can and who can't sail."

"In that case captain, do I have permission to join you for this trip to Penzance?"

"No, but you can join us for a trip to Newlyn."

"Thanks, isn't that a bit like splitting hairs?"

"Not at all, Penzance and Newlyn are separate harbours that happen to be a few hundred metres apart in St Michael's Bay. We're returning some RNLI equipment to the Penlee Lifeboat Station so the delivery van will meet us there. Welcome aboard."

Heather watched as Chandlers Boy let go and moved off the harbour wall, what had been a little disconcerting was the late appearance of Billy Trethgarwyn Senior just before it sailed; he hadn't asked permission to go aboard.

Heather received a text message from Sophie as the boat disappeared from sight.

The bearded one spotted me and spoke to Capt Denison, bearded one is not happy.

With nothing more to do she packed away Sophie's laptop then walked back to the café near the Five Islands School.

"Hello again, usual?"

"Yes please." Heather had been in this café the previous morning and once on their earlier visit, did that make her a regular?

"There you go, coffee with milk."

"Thank you."

She found a seat by herself and wasn't surprised when the same mother as the previous day approached her table, with a friend.

"Hello again Heather."

"Hi, I didn't get your name yesterday?"

"No. Anyway, both of our men had calls from Steve Daly yesterday accusing the men of talking to you."

"Seeing as I haven't spoken to any of the crew except Billy Trethgarwyn, that couldn't be true."

"That's what we said. He wasn't happy anyway as someone let the tyres down on his car."

"I was there, it was just after school finished yesterday."

"Apparently you asked for the payroll information and he said you couldn't have it."

"That's about it, but that won't stop me for long."

"What's your angle on this?"

"I'm a forensic accountant, I investigate not just the numbers but why things happen. If something is not done very soon the tax investigation teams are going to be all over the company and Mr Daly will almost certainly do a disappearing act."

"That bad?"

"Yes, I'll be at the offices again at three this afternoon if anyone wants to see me."

The delegation walked away, Heather finished her coffee and walked back towards the harbour. The sun was out and the early morning wind had dropped to a gentle breeze; the sea was almost still with just the odd ripple. The crossing to Penzance, she'd been told, was just over three hours on a good day so she'd next expect to hear from Sophie around midday.

Back in their room at the guest house, Heather checked her emails. She'd submitted the previous day's report with trepidation as she'd included the plan to put Sophie on the boat that morning. Jenny's reply couldn't be clearer:

From: Jennifer Osborne
To: Heather Young
Subject: Re: Report 15 October

Heather,

Do not put Sophie on that boat, just observe and report, backup can be in place for next week's run.

Jenny

 
Heather decided that replying to this email right now would be counter-productive so close the laptop and put it away. She now had a few hours to kill before, probably, another wasted session at St Mary's Chandlers. She considered what she knew so far:

Peter Cookson was a good man but far too trusting, he wasn't supervising what was going on around him. The personnel manager was an ex-con with a track record in fraud; he was paying salaries in cash with spurious undeclared deductions. Whose pocket did the so-called deductions go in? Finally, he was registered as the part owner of Chandlers Boy, ostensibly the firm's boat.

The boat was also making some odd runs, using more diesel than normal - diesel paid for by the firm using a credit card.

She started her laptop up again but this time left the encryptor out and used a different sign-in. Peter Cookson had given her the logins for the firm's bank accounts and the credit card when she'd agreed to take on the job so she checked the last few fuel purchases.

The policy was to refuel after each afternoon, in case the boat was needed for a run to the mainland. What was odd was that a refuelling had taken place on Wednesday afternoon as scheduled but again this morning, before Heather and Sophie reached the harbour. The morning refuelling was equal in value to the previous twenty four hours, just how far had she gone?

She rang Falmouth Coastguard and tried to ask about the boat.

"I'm sorry, love, but we can't give that out but we did have an enquiry on the same boat a few days ago."

"Okay, thanks."

"You could always try the AIS?"

"AIS?"

"It's a location and identification beacon that all commercial boats in European waters should now have, although there's no guarantee it's switched on." The coastguard officer told Heather how to access it.

Heather looked and indeed found Chandlers Boy but where had it been the previous night? She couldn't access that without paying for the website - free access only went so far. A few minutes later, signing on using her business email address, she could see the previous day's travels, sort of.

There were gaps in the coverage as the boat strayed from receiver stations but it looked like there was a receiver on the Bishop Rock lighthouse, several miles south-west of the Scillys. Heather knew, however, that the lobster pots were found at several sites between St Mary's and St Agnus, the island just to the south of where she was now.

The only reason to go past Bishop Rock was to access the shipping lanes, but there was no way she could try to work out which ship might have slowed to drop something, or someone, off. This could be done later. She turned her attention back to where Chandlers Boy was right now and saw it had almost reached Land's End.

Sophie must have been within reach of her mobile network as a text arrived.

Not happy with the bearded one, he's up to something. Been told we're going to Newlyn.

Maybe Jenny had been correct in telling her to wait, but it was far too late to deal with that now. Heather sent a text back.

Okay, let me know when arrive. Following on AIS.

It wasn't far past eleven but Heather fancied some lunch, she also figured that turning up at the chandlers a little early wasn't a bad idea, it would at least pass the time whilst she waited for Sophie's return. Heather strolled into the centre of town and visited a bakery, picking up a filled roll and a cake before walking to the harbour to eat. She spotted Scotty Trethgarwyn and Billy Trethgarwyn Junior heading the other way, towards the guest house, but they hadn't seen Heather. She decided to follow.

Sgt Marc Taylor crossed her path and saw concern on Heather's face.

"What's the matter?"

"Those Trethgarwyn boys are heading towards our van again, I'm following."

"I'll come with you."

From a distance they could see the boys dipping down near the front of the van, but there was no time for the police officer to call for backup. He signalled for Heather to wait whilst he walked around the far side, she held back as asked but unzipped her belt bag.

Suddenly Marc had Scotty in his hands and was telling Billy Junior to stand up and wait to be arrested. Billy had no such idea but pulled a wooden baton from his jacket, then started to walk towards Heather. She didn't hesitate and pulled her weapon from the pouch.

"Stop or I will shoot."

"Ha ha!" He continued.

She fired, deliberately aiming to his left. He dropped.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Protecting myself, Marc."

"That is an illegal weapon."

"No, I have a licence for it. Can we deal with these two then I can get you the paperwork."

"I should arrest you here and now, but you can't get off the island so we'll walk this pair back to the police station. You come along with me, but put that away."

He pulled Billy Junior to his feet and cuffed him, the lad was whimpering.

The police station was only two hundred yards away and they were met by one of Sgt Taylor's officers before they reached the back door.

"Book these in for going equipped, we'll handle any other offences when I've dealt with a different problem. By the way, they might need some clean underpants."

"That woman, she's dangerous!"

"She missed, be grateful." He turned to Heather.

"Come with me Miss Young." She wasn't Heather now.

They were sat in one of the interview rooms and Marc had asked Heather to remove the weapon, then to take the magazine out. He made a note of the serial number. Next she showed him her firearms permit.

"This is a Met Police permit, issued to only Police Officers."

"I'm not a police officer, but it was issued by them to me, let me show you my warrant."

This took him by surprise, for many reasons. Firstly he'd never seen a Special Warrant but realised it was probably a genuine document, of greater concern was why an accountant was armed and carrying a 'get out of jail free' card.

"Explain yourself."

"I am an accountant, I'm just working for a government department as well."

"Which."

"I'd rather not say."

"A bloody spook then."

She smiled.

"I'll take that as a yes, why the weapon?"

"In the past twelve weeks, or so, there have been at least four direct attempts on my life. Sophie was until last week my bodyguard."

"Is she armed?"

Heather nodded.

"Bloody hell, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you'd feel obliged to report it to HQ and Plymouth Special Branch don't like us very much."

"Anything to do with an incident on The Barbican a few weeks back?"

"Yes."

"You have put me in a very difficult position by discharging this weapon in the street."

"It was that or end up in an air ambulance heading for a hospital on the mainland."

Her phone beeped.

Bearded one just had a call, proves he does have a phone. He's very upset.

"Sophie's on Chandlers Boy, Billy Trethgarwyn Senior is also there, it looks like he's just been told what happened. She's in danger."

"I'll get a unit to them, where are they heading?"

"Newlyn."

He went back to the custody desk and picked up a phone, explaining that an ex Met Police officer was in danger on the boat. This did not seem to rank as urgent in the control room.

"She's armed."

That did the trick.

The next news came ten minutes later when the phone in custody rang, the duty officer handed Marc the handset, he spoke briefly then returned to Heather.

"The armed response unit wasn't far away, they've arrested your friend. Apparently she was creating havoc on the boat."

"That's not Sophie's style, you know she was Diplomatic and Royalty Protection Squad before she joined Counter Terrorism?"

"Yes, but I didn't know she was in Counter Terrorism, is that what this is about?"

"I can't say."

"Bloody woman, this is my island and there's an operation running that I'm being kept in the dark about?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Who's running it?"

"MI5 and SO15."

"Jesus. Does anyone in Devon and Cornwall Constabulary know about this?"

"No, we're just intelligence gathering."

The phone rang again, Marc returned after a minute.

"She has concussion and is on her way to Treliske Hospital near Truro."

"I need to get there."

"I'm not done with you yet."

"Sod that, I need a helicopter."

"Just how deep are your pockets?"

"Deep enough, can you phone the airport?"

Sgt Marc Taylor was now in two minds, he appreciated that a former colleague was on her way to hospital with concussion but also had an unresolved firearms issue to deal with. Sat in two of his cells were Billy Junior and Scotty, sons of Captain Billy Trethgarwyn.

"How am I going to handle this? The moment these two go in front of a magistrate they'll complain you shot at them without provocation."

"Then let them go."

"What about the criminal damage to your van?"

"They haven't done anything serious yet and I suspect they'll not try again having been scared off once and arrested on the second attempt."

"Won't that make you a target?"

"Perhaps, but I'm used to that having had a price put on my head and an RPG through my hospital ward window."

"I remember that, it was you?"

"Yes, I'd left there the day before thankfully. I was also rescued by the SAS last month."

"Look, Wonder Woman, I think that the sooner you're out of my station the safer I'll feel."

"If that's what it takes? Now, how about that helicopter?"

St Mary's Airport was only ten minutes away by police car. March told her it was unusual because the airport was owned and operated by the Scilly Isles Council, at a time when many local authorities have sold municipal airports to raise capital or closed the site to build housing.

The regular helicopter service to the mainland had closed in 2012 so there were no longer any helicopters for hire based at St Mary's. The airport had, however, passed on the request to a helicopter firm based at Newquay Airport. That chopper was now ten minutes off the Scillys.

"Please be careful, Heather."

"I will Marc. I care deeply for Sophie."

The helicopter took Heather directly to Treliske Hospital before returning to its' Newquay base. Heather did not get a friendly welcome in the accident and emergency department.

"I'm afraid we can't tell you anything."

"She is my assistant and we've just bought a house together in Redruth, if that doesn't qualify then I don't know what does."

"It's not that, the police have asked that access is restricted."

"In that case, get me the senior police officer."

"Sorry."

Heather walked outside and pulled her phone out.

"Emily, we have an issue......"

A few minutes later an inspector from Devon and Cornwall Constabulary found her.

"Miss Young?"

"Yes."

"Could you come with me?"

"If it's not to see DS Grieve then the answer is no."

"DS Grieve?"

"Yes, Sophie is DS Grieve."

"She didn't say."

"And her firearms licence doesn't have that printed on it? Her warrant should also be in her bag."

"Oh."

"So, you didn't do your job, or ask appropriate questions, fully identify the patient, allow someone with knowledge to see her and waited until a call from the Met Police counter terrorism unit lands at your HQ and scares certain people into thinking with their heads instead of their arses?"

"If you'll come with me, we'll go to Ms Grieve."

Heather found Sophie sat up on a bed with two officers standing guard, both armed.

"Put the guns away boys."

"Who are you?"

"Here's my warrant, have you found Sophie's yet? Inspector, you'd best explain."

"Ms Grieve, I am de-arresting you, now that certain issues have been explained."

"Thank you, but you could have just asked why I was found on the quayside in Newlyn semi-concious?"

"But you didn't declare yourself as a police officer and you were found with a firearm."

"And with a full licence, but nobody asked. Where is my weapon?"

One of the armed officers spoke, "in our vehicle."

"In that case," suggested Heather, "how about you run us to St Mawgan so I can have a helicopter take us back to St Mary's."

"I think that can be arranged, but don't you want to make a complaint against the boat crew?" Queried the inspector.

"No, we have bigger things to deal with, much bigger."

"I need to make certain the senior officer in St Mary's knows about the firearms."

"He already knows, Inspector, perhaps we can have a chat in the car, are you busy for the next hour or so?"

***

Heather and Sophie had gained a few other passengers when they stepped off the helicopter at quarter past two, taking a taxi back to the guest house. Sophie set about checking the video from overnight, whilst the video from her broach camera was being transferred onto Heather's laptop.

Heather fast-forwarded to just before the boat docked, what was clear was that Captain Denison had distracted Sophie just before Trethgarwyn hit her, knocking her to the floor. The camera continued to record whilst she was down, dazed. Judging by the way the background engine noise dropped very soon after this incident they must have come alongside in Newlyn Harbour.

A face appeared who was not one of the crew and who hadn't featured in any previous video, he was heard asking in stilted English.

"The woman, we get rid of her?"

Denison answers. "No, I have better plan to discredit her and her girlfriend." There's then an image of the unknown man and Trethgarwyn moving a large locked box.

Soon after, Sophie is carried off the boat and dropped on the quayside. There's a shot of the unknown man getting into a van that's waiting, as it departs it passes the incoming police vehicle. The broach continues to record audio although Sophie is laying in the wrong direction for any useful video to be captured.

"What's up with her?"

"She went berserk, hit several of us before she knocked herself out."

"We have a report that she's armed."

"Oh." That was clearly news to the crew.

Heather rewound to a point a few minutes before she was hit and saved everything until just before the comment about her being armed, then burnt that to a DVD. Sophie, meanwhile, had swallowed a couple of analgesics and declared herself ready for the next stage of their operation.

"If you're sure?"

They walked up to St Mary's Chandlers, arriving there just after three.

"There you are, you're late!"

"Hello Peter, we had a small problem." She noticed twelve women stood there.

"They're all here to see you about their husbands' pay."

"Is Steve Daly here?"

"No."

"Oh well, that can wait another day. I have a video here that you'll want to watch, Sophie will explain it - if it needs any explaining."

She turned to the assembled ladies.

"I wish I had good news for you but I have found clear evidence of fraud concerning your husbands' pay. That will be a matter for the police and the courts. Unfortunately it does not end there and one or more of the boat crews will probably lose their jobs. However, as St Mary's Chandlers does not own the boat, your argument is not with Peter Cookson."

That generated a fair deal of questions until the CEO of St Mary's Chandlers returned from his office, he quickly caught up with the issue of boat ownership.

"I thought I did own the boat?"

"According to the registry it's jointly owned by Steve Daly and Billy Trethgarwyn and has been for over two years."

"Having just seen two of my captains participate in an assault, I'm wondering what else I don't know about." He hadn't noticed the extra passenger and Sophie hadn't pointed him out, did Peter Cookson really know 'his' crews?

With reference to the two captains all the women started talking, rounding on John Denison's wife, Hazel. The CEO then realized something didn't make sense.

"You said that video was made this morning?"

"Yes."

"But the boat's not back yet."

"Correct, they also threw me off the boat, I was concussed, then arrested, and taken to hospital where Heather found me."

"Which hospital?"

"Treliske."

"That's twenty five miles from Penzance."

"Yes."

"How did you get back?"

"By helicopter."

Steve Daly chose that moment to walk in and expressed surprise when he saw Sophie.

"How did you get back?"

Peter Cookson didn't miss that. "Steve, explain yourself."

"Ermm, she was here yesterday."

"I know what you meant. Clear your desk, you're sacked."

"You can't do that, I have rights."

"Yes I can, and I just did, fraud is a sackable offence."

The former personnel manager was on his way up the stairs, "well, I wiped my PC this morning so you won't gain anything."

Heather smiled but said nothing. A new voice arrived.

"I'm a bit late to this party, there was some trouble in the harbour. Good afternoon Miss Young, Miss Grieve, everyone. Where's Steve Daly?"

A few pointed up to the management offices. Sgt Marc Taylor walked up there and was heard to interrupt Steve Daly who was stuffing documents into a shredder, jamming it.

"You're under arrest ...."

It took another minute before Marc Taylor rejoined the gathering on the shop floor, escorting his target who was now handcuffed.

"Please don't go into his office until it has been checked. Other officers will be here shortly."

Peter Cookson was now very concerned, "what do you know and where does this leave me?"

"It is highly likely that ownership of your boat was obtained fraudulently so your solicitor should contact the Maritime and Coastguard Agency in Cardiff and ask them to check the transfer documentation. Now, several of your crew have been involved in smuggling and I have evidence of that. Lastly, your personnel manager has been pocketing the income tax and national insurance deductions from the boat crews' salaries. That would mean that those crew would now owe several thousand pounds for unpaid tax and national insurance over the past two or three tax years."

That drew a gasp from the wives present.

Peter Cookson was now at the end of his tether. "As of now all of the crew are laid off and will have to apply to rejoin the crew if I win back ownership of MY boat. If any have been involved in violence or smuggling then you can expect no favours from myself and will have to deal with the Revenue by yourself."

That created uproar, the scene was turning ugly.

"Quiet!"

The police inspector who had accompanied Heather and Sophie on the chopper ride had now arrived.

"All of the boat crew are under arrest and will be interviewed shortly, although it is likely that they will be transported to Penzance. Mr Cookson, we need to discuss your boat."

-----------------------------------------------------------
To be continued

Unaccounted Gains Books 3 & 4 are also available on Kindle