Latent Hazard

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  ‘Ha, ha. No. They were former students. That’s where they got their PhDs, their doctorates,’ replied Kate. ‘It would be helpful to know when they were there, the names of their close friends, the titles of their PhD theses, etc. See if there’s anyone who studied with them still living in London. I’ll ask the commissioner to smooth your path,’ said Kate.

  Emma, on the ball as ever, found the vice chancellor’s address and that of the administration department. She walked over to the printer, collected the sheet and passed it to Jeremy.

  ‘Who’s coming with me and which car can I borrow, please?’ he asked Kate.

  ‘Oops, I forgot to chat to John from the Special Branch,’ replied Kate. She picked up the phone. ‘Hi John,’ she said in a friendly tone, ‘would you have a spare moment? I need some help, please. We’ve unearthed something that has a direct bearing on the Bishopsgate bombing. I could do with a seasoned brain to give Jeremy Welby, our MI5 friend, a hand. Yes . . . Yes, I know you’re very busy and dislike spooks.’

  She paused and listened. ‘Yes, I appreciate everyone thinks it’s going to hit the fan. We’ve come up with an angle which may open up a whole new dimension. I need your input and not that of a sidekick, please. Fantastic, thanks. Jeremy’s on his way down to the car park. Is your car there? Excellent. He knows where you’re going and will brief you on the way. I owe you.’

  Kate looked across to Jeremy. ‘Your chauffeur awaits downstairs. Detective Chief Inspector John Dowsing has volunteered to drive you and to work with you. He can be a bit of a gruff bugger, but he’s got a great nose for information and has a good sense of humour once you get to know him.’ She smiled. ‘One other thing, Jeremy. Rafi reckons that time is of the essence. Please keep in touch. Don’t take no for an answer and if possible be back asap.’

  Jeremy nodded and left.

  ‘Let’s see what we can dig up and reconvene at, say, 5 p.m.,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll book a slot with David and the commissioner for later this evening. They’re keen to be kept up to date and we need their goodwill.’

  ‘This Rainer Spencer & Mitchell lot keeps a low profile for a firm of chartered accountants,’ observed Emma. ‘It’s only got eighteen mentions on Google, the sum total of which is next to nothing. It makes me think that they’re either very secretive or look after a very select client base.’

  ‘That could fit in nicely with the activities of AGVC,’ commented Rafi.

  Emma got into the Companies House online database.

  Rafi wondered what their searches would reveal – for all British companies, there are pieces of information that have to be put into the public domain: the name and address of each director, each shareholder and the company secretary; its accounts and a register of all properties with a legal charge over them, all of which have to be filed at Companies House.

  It transpired that PREH and AGVC were the acronyms for Prime Real Estate Holdings, and Acorn Growth Venture Capital. Emma downloaded the .pdf files for their accounts, annual returns and mortgage register, and printed them out.

  None of names of the directors except for Dr Basel Talal looked familiar to Rafi, though he noted that Talal was a director of both companies. The company secretary wasn’t a person but a company – CGF Company Secretaries Ltd.

  Rafi called across to Emma. ‘We’ve got another company to look at: a specialist company secretarial business.’ In less than ten minutes Emma had downloaded the documents, printed them and passed them to Rafi.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ she enquired.

  ‘Anything would do!’ he replied cheerfully. ‘First of all, let’s see whether CGF Company Secretaries Ltd is involved with the property company PREH. Look at this! It is!’

  ‘Who are the directors of CGF Company Secretaries?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Christopher Rainer, George Spencer, and Frank Mitchell.’ Emma beamed. ‘Well I’d be damned; we have Messrs Rainer Spencer & Mitchell operating in another guise.’

  ‘Emma,’ said Rafi. ‘I’ve found next to nothing on the venture capital company – AGVC. It seems as if they and the companies they have invested in are very low profile. I’ve had a thought – what if all the companies that AGVC has funded use the same company secretary to look after their corporate paperwork? It’s a long shot, but it would enable them to keep an eye on their investments, and they are next door.’

  ‘Yep. It’s worth a try,’ said Emma.

  ‘Could you use your influence and get Companies House to give us a list of all the companies for whom CGF is the company secretary?’ Rafi asked.

  ‘And we could include any other companies that Basel Talal and his fellow directors are involved in,’ said Emma.

  She was on to Companies House straight away.

  It was just after 3 p.m. Rafi wondered why he kept looking at the clock. It was as if his subconscious sensed they were working to a strict deadline.

  Emma was speaking to a helpful data manager at Companies House.

  ‘I’m glad there shouldn’t be any problems.’ She switched on the speakerphone. ‘How long will it take?’

  ‘Usually seventy-two hours to process such a request.’

  ‘What? Seventy-two hours?’

  ‘Yes and could you please put your request in writing?’

  ‘Couldn’t you do it quicker? Time is of the essence at this end – we need the information as of now!’ asked Emma.

  Silence.

  ‘As I said, please put it in writing and I’ll ring you to discuss how quickly we could get this done.’

  ‘Your fax number, please?’

  Emma put a hand over the phone and called across to Kate, ‘Could you put some headed paper in the printer tray, please?’ Meanwhile Emma’s fingers were flying over her keyboard. Typing, cutting and pasting the information into a letter.

  ‘Could I have your name and address, please?’

  ‘Arnold Owen, Manager, Data Handling, Companies House, Crown Way, Cardiff.’

  ‘Yes . . . Excellent.’ Seconds later the printer whirred. ‘Kate, be a darling,’ said Emma. ‘Sign the letter and fax it off.’

  ‘OK, Mr Owen, I’d be grateful if you’d go over to your fax machine and collect the fax that’s coming out. Thank you,’ said Emma.

  Less than a minute later Mr Owen was back on the phone. ‘Thank you; I have your wish list in my hand.’

  ‘Mr Owen, I’ve got a favour to ask: my boss is leaning on me and I’m against a deadline of er . . . this evening. I’m sorry, were you about to go home?’ asked Emma. ‘We could do with your help.’

  ‘Could I let you have the information first thing tomorrow morning?’

  ‘I’m afraid that may be too late. We could do with your help now. Please, don’t hang up.’

  The phone went dead.

  ‘Oh bugger I lost him. I bet the little sod has just gone home early.’ Emma was furious.

  ‘I’ll need to pull rank,’ she continued. ‘Is the boss in?’

  ‘No. He’ll be back at 4-ish – in twenty minutes – I think,’ said Kate.

  Emma got up to vent her frustration on someone or something. As she was going out of the door, her phone rang. She scampered back to her desk. It was the Welsh tones of Mr Owen on the other end. Emma sat down, visibly relieved.

  ‘How nice to hear from you, Mr Owen.’

  ‘Please call me Arnold. Sorry to have hung up; I needed to make a call. I was meant to be taking my granddaughter out for a birthday treat. I’ve arranged to be at her party later. Now, about that information you need . . .’

  ‘You’d make a good policeman,’ said Emma.

  ‘Funny you should say that; three years ago I took early retirement after twenty-five years of service.’

  ‘In strictest confidence, could you please do a search for companies which use CGF Company Secretaries?’ requested Emma. ‘And then pull off copies of the accounts, annual returns and mortgage registers for the companies that show up on this list. And lastly, could you do the same for Basel Talal and
his co-directors in AGVC?’

  She thought she heard a muffled ‘Oh hell, why today?’ at the other end.

  ‘If you let me have your email address, I’ll start pushing things through the system at my end. Probably best if I send the files through in batches as and when I have them. It’ll give you something to work on sooner rather than later,’ said Arnold.

  ‘By the way,’ said Emma, ‘when you’re next in London do drop in to say hello. I owe you a drink, or make that a lunch with your granddaughter.’

  Kate came off the phone and walked over to the printer to gather up the paper that had been billowing out of it for the past few minutes. The tax office had emailed through most of the requested information on the venture capital company, PREH, and the partnership of Rainer Spencer & Mitchell, and were now working on CGF Company Secretaries. The material contained a summary of their business activities, their accounts and such bank account details as they had. MI5 had also been busy and had sent through what they had on Basel Talal and his co-directors, and had placed the partners of Rainer Spencer & Mitchell under surveillance.

  At 4.13 p.m. the first email came through from Arnold. It comprised a list of twenty-seven companies that used CGF Company Secretaries. ‘Oh flaming heck!’ said Emma. ‘We’re suckers for punishment. When we said we wanted information to get our teeth into we didn’t bargain on this amount. This is bloody unreal.’

  This was followed a few minutes later by the name of one further company where Dr Talal was a director.

  Arnold came on the phone to Emma. The speakerphone was switched on. ‘Were you expecting so many companies?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no!’

  ‘Well I’ve some good news for you. If one whittles out the dormant companies and those which have as yet to trade, it reduces the numbers to ten for CGF Company Secretaries and one for the directors. Oh, and could I ask a favour?’ said Arnold.

  ‘What is it?’ said Emma.

  ‘I’d hoped to get home at some stage. You see, like I mentioned before, it’s my granddaughter’s eighth birthday party this afternoon. If I could let you have the files for these eleven companies and then disappear off for a while, it would be most appreciated. I’ll come back to work after I’ve given her her present. I can then check that there’s nothing out of the ordinary with the other companies.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Emma, ‘you’re giving us lots to work on. Thanks for your assistance.’

  ‘I’d normally say no problem,’ said Arnold, ‘but today your timing is terrible. You might like to take down my private mobile number, just in case.’

  Emma scribbled down the number and thanked him again for his help.

  ‘I’ve brought forward the meeting with David and the commissioner to 5.30 p.m.’ said Kate. ‘Let’s see what we can deliver that’s concrete. What we need is an overview of the companies that the venture capital company is supporting and hopefully Jeremy and John will have something to report from their meeting at the college.’

  Rafi made a list of the companies that used CGF Company Secretaries Ltd; his wrist still ached like hell, but the painkillers made it bearable. He wondered how many were funded by AGVC Ltd – the venture capital company. If their hunch proved right, it would be one hell of a breakthrough. He frowned as he looked at the eclectic list on the whiteboard:

  SPAD Ltd

  Security Protection & Defence Company

  UKSOIL Ltd

  UK Students Overseas Initiative Live

  HFFF Ltd

  Hotel Frozen Fish Foods

  PSSAF Ltd

  Public Sector Services and Facilities

  AEIEA Ltd

  African Estonian Import / Export Agency

  PREH plc

  Prime Real Estate Holdings

  CCVH Ltd

  Central City View Hotels

  SJFR Ltd

  Small Joe’s Fish Restaurants

  CDAFO Ltd

  Commercial Development & Fit Out

  AGVCFoF

  Acorn Growth Venture Capital Fund of Funds1

  Rafi was working on AGVC when Kate called across. ‘Have you had a chance to look at the mortgage registers?’

  ‘Sorry, not yet; I’ll get on to them now.’

  Emma meanwhile had gathered together several piles of paper and stacked them neatly along Jeremy’s and the adjoining desk, and was sorting through the pile of faxes Kate had received.

  Kate’s phone rang. It was the commissioner’s personal assistant, Beverley. ‘Thought you might like to know that Giles and David are back in the building; you can expect them in the next couple of minutes.’

  ‘Thanks, Beverley.’

  In the few moments before the bosses arrived, Rafi was frantically trying to get up to speed with the mortgage registers. AGVC, according to its accounts, owned no property. PREH – the property company – was a different matter. The list of addresses on its mortgage register ran to three pages. Rafi was starting to enjoy himself. He liked working under pressure, especially when he felt he was making progress. The room had a familiar buzz to it and felt like his office in the middle of a takeover battle.

  Rafi looked at the addresses; they were a mix in terms of locations. He spotted the Idol Lane and St Mary at Hill, London EC3 properties. There were a couple of shopping centres, High Street shops and central city office buildings in major towns and cities; after that there seemed to be a rather odd mix. There was a property in North Walsham, another in Prestwick, one in Hartlepool and one in Peterhead. Not the first places that would normally spring to mind when dealing with prime locations, he mused. Rafi was about to look at where the properties were precisely, when Commissioner Giles Meynell and Chief Superintendent David Pryke walked in. Both looked very serious.

  Giles turned to his colleague. ‘What do you reckon, David? We leave them alone for one day and they take it upon themselves to see if they can fell half the trees in the Amazon rain forest.’ He turned to

  Kate and smiled, ‘I’m pleased to see you haven’t been hanging around – where would you like us to sit?’

  Emma got up and moved the two chairs next to Jeremy’s desk forward. She looked a little nervous; she rarely came into such close contact with her ultimate bosses.

  Kate approached the whiteboard. ‘Since we last spoke we’ve made significant progress. We believe we’ve uncovered what Rafi did to make Jameel suspicious of him. His subsequent unmasking of the four companies with Callum appears to have made him a real threat. We’ve exposed an impressive and wide-ranging network of companies over which we believe the terrorists have control. There are four London listed companies summarised here.’ She pointed to their names and activities on the whiteboard. ‘We’ve also found that our suspect Jameel Furud has a connection with AGVC, a venture capital business, which has ten corporate investments, one of which is a large property investment company, PREH – Prime Real Estate Holdings.’

  She paused to let her bosses take in what she’d said. ‘Our investigations have only started snowballing in the past three hours since we managed to find the oblique connections between Jameel Furud and Basel Talal – the MD of the venture capital company. They studied together for their PhDs. John and Jeremy are currently talking to the vice chancellor of the university where they studied.’

  Kate glanced at Rafi. ‘Can you explain your concerns to Giles and David?’

  Rafi looked across at the two men to whom he owed his freedom and started, ‘I have been trying to piece together why the suspects should want me out of the way; what do I know that most other people don’t? Companies and the markets are my area of expertise. What do Jameel and Basel have in common? University, a love of money and an in-depth knowledge of companies and the markets. My hypothesis is still woolly . . . I am wondering whether their ultimate aim is to target the financial markets.’

  Rafi suddenly hesitated. A cold chill went down his back. His hands went cold and his mouth bone dry. Oh Christ, he thought, it couldn’t be, could it? He was still immersed
in his own thoughts, when he heard Kate saying, ‘Are you OK, Rafi?’

  ‘Sorry, the potential magnitude of what the terrorists might be planning has just struck me. If at the same time as their attacks, they speculated on the derivatives market and there was another sudden fall in the stock market, they’d reap huge profits. And this would compound the problems faced by bruised banks, to the point where the Government would have to throw more money at the financial sector.’

  ‘Could it be the straw that breaks the camel’s back?’ asked Emma.

  Rafi cleared his throat and spoke in a croaky voice. ‘Might be – things are still precarious in the City and the Government’s finances are pretty dire.’ He fell silent.

  You could have heard a pin drop while the people in the room digested this latest piece of news.

  The commissioner studied Rafi, deep in thought. ‘Could there not be a simpler or more straightforward explanation of what the terrorists are planning?’

  ‘What did you have in mind, sir?’ replied Rafi.

  ‘I am not sure. The problem is that neither Special Branch, nor MI5 or the Met has turned up any tangible leads relating to the Bishopsgate bombing, so we are still very much in the dark. This leaves us with your theories as the best we have so far.’ The commissioner glanced across at Kate, prompting her to take up the running.

  ‘Sir, if we follow Rafi’s thoughts, then there are two things we should think of: firstly, timing – I believe we should assume that they are close to their endgame. And, secondly, secrecy – we should be extremely careful not to let them know that we are on to them.’

  ‘How long will you need in order to put some flesh on this gruesome skeleton?’ asked the commissioner.

  ‘We’ll be working through the night. By breakfast we should have a clearer picture.’

  The commissioner looked at David, Kate’s boss. ‘Any observations?’

  ‘If Jameel believed Rafi was on to them, then linking Rafi to the Bishopsgate bombing was a shrewd move.’ He paused. ‘I worry, Kate, that you’ve too much circumstantial evidence. Until such time as we can confirm what the terrorists are planning, we should keep our minds open to other alternatives.’