“Why the fuck not,” said Elaine heatedly, “how the hell else are we to get on board a bloody great yacht and rescue Tim’s wife otherwise?”
“This all seems a bit too personal,” said Mailer.
“Of course it is personal,” Tim finally spoke. “She is my wife.”
“I understand,” said Mailer sounding exceedingly contrite. “But I have to look at the wider implications as Foreign Secretary. Surely you can see that?”
“What I can see is that you are quite happy for these fuckers to get away with it so we can stay friends with the Kremlin,” said Elaine.
“I really don’t think this is going anywhere. I agree with Waverly we should keep a watching brief at this stage,” said Mailer.
“I have a piece of evidence which I think you should consider before you make your final decision,” said Tim. He placed a file on the desk in front of Mailer. “For your eyes only, no one else, not even my colleagues at MI5 have seen its contents.”
There was silence as Mailer opened the file and began to read. From the expression on his face it was clear that the contents were startling. His expression changed from smug confidence to one of indecision and uncertainty. Closer inspection of his body language would have actually indicated fear.
He looked up from reading the file and he glowered at Tim. There was a brief flash of hatred that he masked almost instantaneously. “I see this information does shed further light on the matter. I thank you Tim for bringing this to my attention. I agree that this information should be held by me alone at this juncture. I assume this is the only copy?”
“There are and there will not be any other copies ever,” said Tim. “I shall of course never reveal its contents without your say or the PM’s express instruction.”
“What is it?” asked Waverly.
“A very delicate matter that needs to carefully considered and is certainly not appropriate to this time and place. It does however change my view on the threat level posed by this situation.”
“I have my navel force?” said Elaine puzzled at the turn around.
“To be precise, Tim has his navel force as I would recommend to you that you allow him to head up the operation,” he said.
Waverly started to protest but Mailer raised his hand. He stopped protesting. ”Now if that is all I declare the meeting closed. I will get my staff to liaise with the Admiralty to get them to come on board, so to speak.”
They all left with the exception of Waverly. “I don’t understand?”
“That little fuck Burr has somehow got hold of The John Reese Home. Do you fancy reading about that in your morning papers.”
Chapter 27
The file Tim handed to Mailer had been the result of a lot of detective work on Tim’s part. When he opened the letter from Maurice Lee and saw the names of the men ranged against him he knew this was not something he could deal with on his own. The only ace he had was the evidence against these men and he needed to keep that to himself. There was no doubt that the British and Americans would love to have the dirt on the Kremlin and some of the richest men in Russia, but there was also little doubt that they would do little or nothing to save Tim’s wife. She would just be collateral damage. If and when he revealed the evidence, he knew that Jackie would serve no further purpose and would be disposed of. His only hope was to keep control of the file and somehow get the British Government to lend him a hand.
There was absolutely no reason whatsoever for the British to get involved in what on the face of it was the kidnapping of a tourist in Egypt, even if she was married to someone in MI5. Tim knew that he would have to give them the reason and incentive to give him the military back up he might need in getting Jackie back.
He had sat at his desk in Thames House and let his mind go over the events of the last few months. The question that troubled him most was why Waverly had circumnavigated the then head of MI6 and aided Turkish intelligence in their efforts to kill him. Mailer, then a junior minister in the foreign office, had asked Waverly to do it. He knew that Mailer and Delonge were friends, but surely Mailer would not have risked his career on friendship alone? After all he had lost his job at the Foreign Office and would now still be on the back benches had there not been the change in Party leadership and a new PM. His appointment as Foreign Secretary had surprised everyone and then Waverly had benefited by getting the top slot at MI6.
Tim set himself the task of answering the question of why Mailer would risk his political career for Delonge. He set about using all the resources available to him at Thames House and those resources were considerable. There was one hurdle. Mailer was a major politician and there were now strict protocols in place aimed at preventing the use of the Civil Service to spy on and dig up dirt on politicians. These were put in place after a serving British Prime Minister, Harold Wilson, had been the victim of a rogue element in MI5. The CIA thought that Wilson was a Soviet agent and that the KGB had poisoned the previous labour leader, Hugh Gaitskell, to replace him with Wilson. MI5 had illegally burgled homes, tapped phones and spread rumours aimed at destabilising the Government.
Tim needed to circumnavigate the restrictions to allow him free reign to dig into every part of Mailer’s life. It did not take him long to cobble together unconnected and unsubstantiated reports on ISIS activity to construct a file, that on the face of it, made Mailer a hot candidate for an assassination attempt. He knew that the whole scenario would not stand any in depth scrutiny, but as it was his job to do the scrutiny, there was little chance of that being a problem.
Tim took his dubious evidence to Stiles, in his capacity as second in command at MI5. “I thought I would throw myself into some work while I wait for news on Jackie. I was just sat at home brooding. So I thought to do something and keep my mind off it.”
“You don’t have to be here. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know but I need to do something and I think I am onto something. There seems to be murmurings of an ISIS attack on the Foreign Secretary.”
Stiles was surprised, “Are you sure?”
“Well you cannot ever be one hundred percent sure in this business. It is piecing bits and pieces together and correlation and guesswork. You know that. I do need to dig further into Mailer’s lifestyle and background to see where, when and if he is vulnerable. Then make recommendations to enhance the security around him. Of course being in the Government I need express permission to do that.”
“Well you have it of course. The last thing we need is to fuck up on a Minister’s security, better safe than sorry. Hey?”
“Exactly,” said Tim as he left with the authority to put Mailer under the microscope.
Tim was scrupulously methodical and he was good at this part of the job. He delved into every nook and cranny of Mailer’s life and looked for links to Delonge, anything that tied them together other than the usual school, university and professional relationships that would be expected.
Tim was getting to feel frustrated. He knew Delonge had been a paedophile and a child murderer. He also knew that Mailer had been prepared to let Waverly sell Tim down the river to the Turks, so there had to be something.
The Rubicon Club popped out at him. They both were members. He knew that the Rubicon was the river boundary that Caesar had crossed when his army entered Rome to take control in forty one BC but that was not a great deal of help. The Oxbridge way was always to give mediocre things grandiose classical names. The internet gave him the answer, a canoeing club.
They had both been members of a canoeing club. That was not that promising. There was little hope of that fact yielding anything to induce Mailer to lend support to Tim and his wife. He was beginning to despair. Was he wasting his time?
He soldiered on. He got everything he could on the Rubicon Club using the full resources available from GCHQ in his quest. He was flooded with insignificant details, member’s lists, club accounts, competition results and expeditions. The Club seemed perfectly normal in everyway. It even
ran courses to encourage the young and up and coming to join the sport.
Tim sat back and rubbed his eyes. Then he saw something that stimulated his interest. The Club ran away trips for young boys aged between eight and eleven. The boys were all at one particular care home “The John Reese Home.” The Rubicon would take six boys on field trips for a few days. The boys were in care and came from dysfunctional homes and had often been subjected to abuse.
Tim was now no longer feeling despondent as he delved further. Mailer and Delonge had frequently taken these young boys canoeing and on camping trips. He knew of Delonge’s interest in small boys and he now suspected that Mailer had shared his proclivities. That they took boys on field trips was of course no proof that Mailer had been involved in anything untoward, but he knew he had to follow the only link he had.
Police reports came in and there had been allegations made but there had been the usual reluctance to follow the matter further. Small boys do not make good witnesses and Tim could see that the police had been less than enthusiastic in investigating the complaints. Now, many years later the police were being forced to investigate claims of historic child abuse owing to victim and public pressure. The John Reese Home however, was not to be investigated.
It was going to be investigated now though and Tim set about doing it. He soon had a list of kids that had been taken out of the School by Mailer and Delonge and the dates. Tim was using MI5 resources without stint. He put in request after request and kept digging. He had everything from weather reports, road traffic incidents, in fact anything he could think of that might have happened in the vicinity of the field trips.
His efforts paid off. He had managed to track down five of the boys who had been on the canoeing trips with Mailer and Delonge. He had GCHQ troll tax records, criminal records, council tax records, job centre records, job seekers payments and even local press reports until he had his names and their current whereabouts.
He knew there had to be more but time was against him. He went for the nearest name on the list Kevin White. He worked in the City for City Bank. Tim announced his MI5 credentials and spoke to him. The meeting was arranged and Tim took the tube to St Paul’s
“I understand you were in care at the John Reese Home?”
“That was a long tome ago.”
“Did you go on the canoeing trips organised by the Rubicon Club.”
“Uncle Terry and Uncle Jason’s camping trips, I did.”
“Can I ask you about them?”
“As I said that was a long time ago. I am a trader now with a major bank. I am not sure what purpose would be served by raking things over.”
“You know, of course, that Uncle Terry is Foreign Secretary now?”
“The fact had not escaped me and that is all the more reason why I do not want to get involved.”
Tim looked him straight in the eye. “Tell me, you were abused weren’t you?”
White was clearly very uncomfortable and looked down. Tim could see the pain and humiliation in him. He answered slowly as if dragging to the surface long discarded thoughts. “I was determined not to let those scumbags fuck up my life. I have made my way and now have a life and I don’t want to rake it up. For what it is worth they abused us and what is more the staff did nothing to stop it and some even colluded in the activities. The police were just not interested and any boy that spoke out was terribly punished.”
“Would you give me a written statement?”
“I won’t and I will deny this conversation if you try and involve me. I have moved on.”
Tim went away, knowing that he was right but also knowing he needed more that knowing. He needed evidence. Not the evidence that could be used in court, but enough to use as a lever to get Mailer’s support.
The block of flats just outside Hatfield was run down like the rest of the Town Centre. Joe Platt lived here. He had been on Uncle Terry’s trips and he had not done as well as White. He was a known drug user and had a criminal record for burglary, theft and handling stolen goods.
It took a great deal of banging on his front door before a bleary eyed girl opened it. Tim saw immediately that she was strung out on some drug or other. “Twenty pounds to fuck me or thirty to do me up the arse.” She was naked and the needle marks were clearly visible down her arms.
He gave her thirty pounds and pushed past. She followed him in and the started to bend over the edge of a dirty stained sofa presenting her bottom to him. He ignored her and walked through the door from the living room past a bathroom and into the bedroom. Platt was lying naked on a dirty mattress surrounded by the usual drug taking paraphernalia of syringes, tin foil and a soot stained spoon.
“Wake up,” said Tim poking him with his foot.
Platt groaned and Tim pushed him harder. He roused himself and opened his eyes. Tim moved to the curtains and pulled them back letting the light stream in.
“Who the fuck are you?” shouted Platt.
“My name is Burr and I am with MI5,” he showed his ID.
Platt struggled with the concept and the naked girl stumbled into the room. “Don’t you want to fuck me?” she asked confused.
“Get dressed or I’ll take you in and let you go cold turkey.”
They girl pulled a T shirt on that just about stretched down far enough to cover her genitals and he pulled on a pair of grubby jeans and a stained T shirt.
Platt was sat on the stained sofa and she was boiling a kettle in the kitchen. “I need some information and I need you to give it to me. I have a grand here if you give me the right answers and I have a cell waiting if you don’t. Do I make myself clear?”
“As fucking day, what do you want?”
“You were at the John Reese Home?”
“So what?”
“I want you to tell me bout the canoeing trips with Uncle Terry.”
“That fucking cunt, what do you want to know?”
“Did he molest you? Did you see him molest others?”
“It wasn’t just him. There was that other fucker Uncle Jimmy,”
“Jason not Jimmy.”
“That’s it Jason. They were dirty fuckers the pair of them. I hate them.”
Tim got out the envelope containing the thousand pounds and put it beside Platt. Yosuf’s money was about to do some good. “Tell me what happened then you can have the money.” The girl staggered in with the coffee.
Tim had planned to take a statement if he could and had A4 paper and a pen. The paper had been double folded in his jacket pocket. It would be scrappy. Tim knew that a deposition obtained like this, with the offer of money would not stand up in Court. It was not intended to but it would be enough to launch a press investigation and force the police to act. Mailer would be fucked in any event and it was only the threat that Tim needed.
Tim wrote and Platt spoke. Platt signed and received the money. Tim had his statement. He included a list of all the boys, the dates and the statement in the file .It had worked and Tim got the back up he needed when he put the file on Mailer’s desk.
Chapter 28
“Well, what happened?” asked Stiles as Elaine entered her office at MI5 headquarters in Thames House. She had just returned from her meeting with Mailer, Waverly and Tim.
“Let me get my coat off,” she slide open the door to the built in cupboard and pulled out a hanger and carefully arranged her coat on it before placing it back. Stiles could not help but notice the eight or ten pairs of shoes neatly arranged in the bottom of the cupboard.
“Nice shoes,” he said.
“Don’t take the piss,” Elaine Wilkins was always capable of surprising people with her ability to be fouled mouthed. Although she had a PhD in something from some Oxford college she liked to demonstrate her humble origins by retaining the colourful language of her pre educated days. Stiles had learned to interpret the meaning of her sayings. For example, “crap,” meant “with all due respect, I feel that could stand further analysis,” “Bollocks” meant “you have not considere
d the wider implications” and “Piss off” meant, “Piss off.”
“Are you going to tell me what transpired at the meeting?”
She sat back in her chair. “As expected, Mailer and Waverly were having non of it and were sending us off with a flea in our ear.”
“So you were told to piss off, using your language?”
“Until Tim handed a file to Mailer and then all change.”
“That must have been nice to watch?”
“It was quite enjoyable, when Mailer looked at the file he almost chocked,” she paused. “Now tell me what you have found out. What was in that file, what is Tim up to and why have the Russians taken his wife?”
“Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin. Firstly, our friend the new Home Secretary, Tim came to me with a cock and bull story about an ISIS threat to his life and wanted access to all his data.”
“And you granted it?”
“Of course it does no harm to know all the dirt and it is our job to deal with any potential terrorist threat.”
“Of course, even if it is imaginary.”
“I trust my operatives. If Tim says there is a threat, there is a threat as far as I am concerned. He is the expert in that area and I am bound to take his concerns seriously.”
“Of course you are,” agreed a smiling Elaine.
“Tim went through Mailer’s and Delonge’s backgrounds with a fine tooth comb. He settled on a link with a kid’s home. Both Delonge and Mailer used to take boys out of the home.”
“I get the link. What is wrong with these public school tossers? So Tim dug up some evidence of some historic child abuse and let Mailer know. That explains why he changed his mind and why he got Waverly to intervene to protect Delonge when he was Ambassador. What it doesn’t explain is why Waverly helped him? Is he a paedophile?”
“I can’t find anything on Waverly but investigating the head of MI6 is not that easy. I am pretty sure he is not and I think it is a matter of mutual back scratching. Waverly covers and helps Mailer and in return it has paid off with his getting the top job at MI6.”
Bank (A Tim Burr Thriller Book 2) Page 11
