Thornwyn

by Laurence Todd

  “You have a nice day.” I left his office.

  Strolling back to the Yard, I wasn’t certain I’d achieved anything from talking to Khaled al-Ebouli, but at least he now knew police were looking into him and his activities, if he’d not already known. I then decided it was time to look into Jeremy Godfrey more closely. I’d been surprised to hear he knew Neville Thornwyn. I was turning over in my mind how they intersected and I was sure I knew.

  Before this, however, there was still Bernie the Buck to consider. He was now reaching the limit of the time period after which he’d have to be either charged or released from custody, and I certainly didn’t want to risk losing him again.

  I drove back to Kentish Town police station. DS Roberts was in his office.

  Without going into specifics or too much detail I explained that Bernie had a connection to a Branch investigation and he was very likely to face serious charges relating to it and, whilst I wasn’t yet in a position to arrest him for the offences concerned as I had a few more inquiries to make, I’d like him detained in custody as there was the very real possibility he’d hide again if he was released.

  “No problem,” Roberts said. He was clearly delighted at the prospect. He said he’d charge him with possession of an offensive weapon and conspiracy to supply and distribute dangerous drugs, and the local magistrates’ court would order him to be remanded in custody for a week.

  I was taken into an interview room to see Bernie. He was already in there, anxiously fidgeting and tapping his fingers on the table, nodding to some piece of music no one but he could hear.

  “How much longer am I gonna be kept here?” he pleaded as I sat.

  “Why’s that, you got somewhere else you’d rather be?” I said nonchalantly. “They really like you here, Bernie, you know that? So much so, they’re going to arrange for you to stay here for another week on an offensive weapons charge.”

  I was being deliberately facetious. I didn’t like Bernie. I held him responsible for Paul Sampson being blackmailed by Neville Thornwyn, and for much of the intense psychological trauma Sampson had endured before taking his own life, because he’d sold Sampson out to save his own neck.

  Bernie looked downcast at the thought of remaining in custody. He’d obviously thought this had been just a routine pull, the kind all working criminals in his position expect once in a while, almost like an occupational hazard. He was now discovering this wasn’t the case.

  “At the moment it’s just this, and someone’ll be in to charge you in a minute when I’ve gone, but it’s gonna get much more serious for you. You’ve admitted receiving stolen documentation from Bartolome Systems, a major defence contractor, and you also burgled a gun shop and took weapons which ended up with a jihadist. I were you, Bernie,” I said, standing up, “I’d learn to read, ’cause you’re gonna get a lot of time to do it.”

  He stared at me like he’d not understood what I’d said. Perhaps he hadn’t.

  “Anyway, this is doing you a favour, mate,” I said airily. “We haven’t found Turley yet, and if he’s after you, like you say he is, you’re safer in custody, aren’t you?”

  He sighed resignedly. “So you say.”

  I left Bernie to his much-deserved misery, told DS Roberts I still owed him a favour and drove back to the Yard.

  I phoned Bartolome’s Berkhamsted site and asked to speak to Jeremy Godfrey. I didn’t fancy a late afternoon drive to Berkhamsted on the off-chance he was there, so I was going to make an appointment to see him. I was put through to his secretary, who informed me Mr Godfrey was not in; he was at the firm’s London office and probably wouldn’t be back in his office today as he had meetings planned whilst in the City. Feeling pleased at not having to battle the early commuter traffic driving out of London, I thanked her for her time and rang off.

  I took a taxi to High Holborn. When we reached Bartolome’s office, I paid the driver and went into reception.

  The same ginger-haired woman with the studs through her nose was behind the desk. The top two buttons of her cream-coloured blouse were undone, revealing her cleavage, and I could see the top edge of a tattoo over her left breast. Wincing at the thought of how painful having a tattoo in that place must have been, I showed ID and asked for Jeremy Godfrey. She replied he was in a meeting with senior managers which wasn’t due to finish for probably another thirty minutes. I said I’d wait and walked across the foyer to where the armchairs were in the corner, under a large ornate mirror with what looked like gold trim all around. There were magazines and newspapers on a small table and I glanced at a copy of Aircraft magazine. It was full of technical specifications and aeronautical facts I couldn’t begin to understand, so I looked at the pictures instead.

  I’d been waiting twenty minutes when the ginger-haired woman approached and asked me to go through to the manager’s office. I walked along the narrow corridor to the office I’d been in on my previous visit. Jeremy Godfrey was sitting where Diane Leander had sat when I’d last called. He looked up.

  “I hope this won’t take long, DS McGraw, I’ve a train to catch.” He glanced at his watch.

  “Depends, doesn’t it?”

  He looked like he didn’t like that answer. I sat down.

  “What did you want to ask me?” he asked.

  “I think I can shed a little light on where your missing documentation might be and who took it.”

  “Oh, really?” He looked pleased. “That’s good news.”

  “Yeah, but before I tell you, I wanna ask you something.” He nodded his assent to this.

  “Why did Edward Priestly leave Bartolome Systems?”

  “Priestly? Is this relevant?”

  “Yes, it is,” I assured him. “He left a good position here to go manage a gun shop, and I’m curious why.”

  He didn’t seem convinced, but he answered the question. “Edward was given the choice of resigning and walking away quietly or else facing prosecution and a likely prison sentence for what he’d done.”

  “Which was what?”

  “Put in layman’s terms, fiddling. He’s a senior accountant and he’d been fiddling expenses and, over the years he worked for Bartolome, he’d milked thousands out of the company. I mean, there’s nothing unusual about claiming slightly more in expenses; most businessmen do it at some point, but what he did went beyond any definition of acceptable theft.”

  Many firms operate a system of acceptable theft; it means firms recognise that pilfering of firm resources occurs but, so long as it stays within mildly acceptable limits, the firm will turn a blind eye. It’s still theft, but firms recognise the impracticality of trying to enforce largely unenforceable rules, so they set limits and depend on the common sense of employees.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Claiming for hotels he never stayed in, taking nonexistent clients to expensive restaurants, booking hire cars and charging them to the company whilst using his own car, things like that. On one occasion we even financed his family’s bloody summer holiday with what he’d bilked us for.” He sounded indignant at the effrontery.

  Bartolome’s board clearly wouldn’t want the shareholders knowing about a top accountant getting away with cheating his employer for as long as it appeared he had, so knowledge concerning this would be restricted to those insiders who had a need to know, which would be a small number. “Who in the company would have known about what he’d done?”

  “Very few; mainly the head accountant and a few directors. That’s about it.”

  “Nobody beyond the company?”

  “Not unless Priestly told them himself.” He was adamant. “How does this have anything to do with the documents we’re missing? Are you saying he took them?”

  “I’m coming to that. I’m asking about Priestly because he’s become involved in something Special Branch is investigating, and he claims he was forced to do what he did because someone was holding the reason he left Bartolome over his head. But you’ve just said nobody outside the compan
y would have known about why he left, and he’s not likely to admit it himself, is he? So someone inside the company either was involved in what he did later or made sure someone outside the company knew his past. You follow?”

  “I’m not sure I do.” He looked puzzled. “What’s Priestly supposed to have done?”

  “For the moment that stays under wraps because there’s national security implications involved. My concern here is how the person Priestly claims was blackmailing him got to know what he’d done to have to leave Bartolome.”

  Godfrey eyed me suspiciously. He had a sense of the way I was thinking and he was beginning to look concerned.

  “The only way this blackmailer’d know is if someone told him,” I stated neutrally. I waited a few moments before continuing, “And the person concerned just happens to be someone of your acquaintance. What a coincidence, eh?”

  “Who’s this, then?”

  “Commander Neville Thornwyn.”

  “Neville?” He sounded surprised. Interesting he’d used his first name.

  I nodded and waited for his reply. He hadn’t replied five seconds later, so I continued.

  “You told Thornwyn about why Priestly left this company, didn’t you, and he used it against Priestly as leverage to get him to do something he wanted done. You denying this?”

  He pursed his lips and looked out the window towards Southampton Row. He breathed out and looked like he didn’t know what to do next. I waited a few more seconds. I was about to ask him something else when he started talking.

  “Neville approached me a few months ago, asked for a reference for Edward Priestly, asked if he was trustworthy and honest, would I feel comfortable recommending him for employ, things like that. He said Edward was being considered for a job and he was doing a background search to check his suitability. I didn’t want information about what he’d done leaking out, so I told him, though I hid some of the excesses of what he’d done and I didn’t give any figures. I generally gave him a good testimonial, probably better than he deserved, truth be told.”

  “Well, Jeremy, Neville, I’m afraid, was bullshitting you. Didn’t it strike you as odd when he asked you for information about Edward Priestly?”

  “No, I’m afraid it didn’t,” he said quietly.

  “I mean, think about it. Since when does a CID commander get involved in doing a routine background check on someone’s suitability for any job that’s not involved in security? That just doesn’t happen. Any inquiries are usually routed through personnel, not through the production director.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “You know why he asked you rather than the human resources department? Because you’d be more likely to tell him what he wanted to know, that’s why. You and him were golfing chums, weren’t you, so he could count on your indiscretion to leak information he had no business knowing.” I wasn’t sparing his feelings.

  He sat silently, barely moving. He was absorbing everything I’d told him over the past few minutes and he didn’t like what he’d heard. I let him stew for a few moments longer.

  “You know what I’m wondering?” I asked. “I’m wondering whether you and Thornwyn were working together on this scheme to get Priestly to act for him. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “What? You think I’ve something going on with Neville Thornwyn to go after Edward Priestly?” He sounded alarmed at my comment.

  “Well, either you’ve been extremely gullible and naïve, giving Thornwyn information he wasn’t entitled to, or you were reckless because you knew or were indifferent to what he was going to do with it, or you’re in it with him. He asked and you gave him what he wanted, knowing what he’d do with it. There’s no other way it can be,” I said with certainty. “Which is it?”

  As I looked at Godfrey I was reminded of Geoffrey Tilling’s comment that Paul Sampson had been told by his father-in-law he’d lose access to his child if he were to come out and declare his homosexuality. I now believed it was true. This would have added to the enormous pressure Sampson had lived under for the last few months of his life. Just one more reason to despise Jeremy Godfrey.

  “Neville Thornwyn’s recent actions have threatened national security; were you aware of that?” I asked. “What he got Priestly to do has done an enormous favour to Islamist terrorism.”

  Godfrey looked at me with a bewildered expression. “What’s Neville done? I saw he’d been convicted of taking bribes and acting corruptly, but how does that threaten national security?”

  “Oh, he’s done more than that, a lot more. Did you know he was also blackmailing your son-in-law?”

  His eyes opened wide in genuine shock, like he’d just seen a ghost.

  “It’s true,” I assured him. “He found out Paul was gay and used it against him when Paul refused to declare himself as homosexual. Thornwyn himself told me this just after he was convicted, and Paul’s partner’s also confirmed it. I don’t know how much he took him for.”

  “Why’d he do this?”

  “Because he could,” I asserted. “Paul Sampson was a sitting duck, wasn’t he? He also had you on his case threatening to kick him off the board unless he chose his wife over his manfriend. You saying you really didn’t know?”

  “Yes, I didn’t realise Paul was being blackmailed,” he said softly.

  “It’s also our belief Thornwyn’s responsible for the loss of the confidential information from this company.”

  Godfrey looked ashen-faced.

  “We think he blackmailed Paul into giving it to someone else who, in turn, passed it over to Thornwyn.” I wasn’t going to name Bernie at this stage. “I’m going to see Thornwyn soon and ask him where he’s stashed it, amongst other things.”

  “Paul gave away top-secret information about the company to a stranger?”

  “Not quite a stranger. You know Thornwyn, don’t you?” Godfrey looked like he was struggling to breathe properly, shaken by what he was hearing. “Paul wouldn’t do that. He’s a loyal company man, for Christ’s sake, he’s not going to allow secret company information to be given away to anyone.” He was trying to sound as though he was convinced of this point.

  “Well, sorry to disabuse you of that notion, but it was definitely Paul. Thornwyn was using a go-between, and this person took the information to London and gave it to him.”

  “Thornwyn,” he muttered as if trying to be sure of the name.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “I’ve had this corroborated by the person Thornwyn used to collect the documents from Paul Sampson.”

  Godfrey closed his eyes for a moment. “This is unbelievable. I thought Neville was my friend. Why would he do this?” He was shaking his head slowly as he spoke, looking at me as if I was meant to agree with him.

  “I used to think he was a police officer, but I’m beginning to doubt that,” I replied cynically. “I’ve no idea why he’d be doing this, but what he’s done has kicked over a hornet’s nest and several people are trying not to be stung.”

  As I spoke I was conscious of the fact Thornwyn was on remand in Belmarsh, having been convicted on a range of offences pertaining to bribery and corruption but not for anything I’d discovered over the past couple of weeks. I resolved to make sure he answered for everything I’d discovered about him.

  “So, what happens now?” Godfrey asked after he’d looked out the window for several seconds.

  “Until I’ve spoken to Thornwyn and ascertained certain facts, there’s nothing I can take you in for. Prima facie, it looks to me like you two are in this thing together. But for the moment all I have are suspicions and coincidences, and I can’t take you in on those.”

  He looked very worried indeed. “You seriously believe I’m part of whatever it is Thornwyn’s supposed to be doing?” His voice sounded strained of sincerity.

  “I believe what facts and evidence tell me.” I stood up. “For the moment there’s nothing else, but after I’ve made some more inquiries and spoken to my boss, you and I will be talking agai
n. Count on it.”

  I looked at him as I was preparing to leave. I didn’t like what I saw. I think I understood at that point precisely why Richard Clements despised people like Jeremy Godfrey.

  “What kind of pressure do you think Paul Sampson was under just before he took his own life?” I asked.

  “How the hell would I know?” he snapped back. “I’m not a bloody psychologist. I don’t know what he was thinking, do I?”

  “If he had come out, would you and his wife have denied him access to his daughter? Are you that much of a homophobe?”

  “That’s a family matter, nothing to do with you.”

  “You think Paul might have been thinking about that when he took all this confidential information and gave it to Neville Thornwyn?” I asked.

  It was apparent from his expression this was something Jeremy Godfrey hadn’t considered. I waited a few moments for a reply, but none was given. I left him to ponder what I’d just said to him.

  It was now late afternoon. I decided to walk back to the Yard. Thinking about all I’d heard from several people, I began putting a scenario together in my mind. I knew how the robbery at Byzantium had occurred; I knew who’d carried it out and with whose help. One of these persons was now in custody and the other in the process of pickling his liver. I now knew the shop manager had been pressured into cooperating by a threat of making known why he’d been required to leave his senior managerial post at Bartolome Systems. I knew who the weapons had been sold on to and by whom, with the seller now dead. I suspected I had a good idea why the recipient of the weapons would have wanted them as well.

  I also knew Thornwyn had been involved in Bartolome Systems losing highly valuable and confidential information relating to the company, possibly by blackmailing Paul Sampson, but I didn’t know what he might have done with it all. I couldn’t understand why he would want this information either. This was something I was going to have to ask him.