THE ORANGE MOON AFFAIR

by AFN CLARKE

  He was shorter and heavier than I thought he might be considering Julie's tall and slim body. Prematurely bald with sharp inquisitive eyes he appraised me carefully showing neither like nor dislike. It was disconcerting and reminded me of a particular JSIW (Joint Services Interrogation Wing) interrogator who quizzed me for days during Special Forces training. He seemed so anomalous to what I expected.

  “I did some work for your father many years ago. Did you know that?”

  “Know I didn't,” I replied, glancing quickly at Julie to see if she knew.

  “You never told me that Dad.” She sounded a little irritated.

  “It isn't important. Way before he became rich and famous. We met at Cambridge and I was a post grad Rhodes scholar. I used to lecture Business Management students on the business applications of modern computer technology. Of course that was in the analogue days. Well the end of the analogue days really. Digital systems were just starting to come online.” He stared into the bottom of his empty whisky glass and I reached across the cockpit table and filled his glass with a passable Glenlivet. “He seemed to like puzzles and that's what computer programming is all about. When he started his first company I designed an encryption for his computer system. Basic stuff and a long time ago.”

  “I had no idea my father knew anything about computer systems.”

  “He didn't but he was a fast learner. I remember your father particularly fondly because he was the only one who asked sensible questions.”

  “How strange life is.” Julie stared at her father as if she was seeing him for the first time and appreciating him, differently.

  “Did Julie tell you I'm not her real father? Hence the different surname?”

  “Yes she did,” I lied.

  Oldfield smiled, knowing the lie and yet enjoying that I sprang to her defence at the risk of my own integrity. “I like you. Chivalry is alive after all.”

  Julie stood angrily and went into the saloon. We could hear her crashing about in the galley loading the dishwasher.

  “Take care of my little girl. She's all I have.” If he thought his whisper couldn't be heard he was wrong.

  “I'm not deaf. Dad.” She emphasised his family title, still angry. Later, much later, I questioned her about her anger.

  “Because he is my father, the only one I've ever known and it angers me that sometimes he doesn't seem to embrace that.”

  “Personally I appreciate the truth. Family secrets can only haunt and hurt. Besides, he loves you more than you want to accept.”

  I went down to see George in the security room, leaving Oldfield and Julie working on the mainframe. He had been in the Army at the same time as me and retired a couple of years ago. As with a lot of retired soldiers, he picked security as the closest thing to his previous way of life. We discussed the old days, the people and places we both knew, into the early hours of the morning. It was good to relax and come down to earth after the events and people of the past months. George proved both witty and perceptive and I thought that if ever the need arose I could rely on him for support, no questions asked.

  Oldfield finally finished at a quarter to five in the morning. He looked completely washed out, bloodshot eyes staring out of his pale face.

  "That's it," he said. Tired he might be, but he was going to milk our relationship to the last. I resisted the temptation to pump him for information and just let him take his time. When he saw I was not going to bite, he continued. "I’ve got all the information I need, but it will take a few days to evaluate. I’ll have to do it in my spare time."

  "Will you need another night here?"

  "No, not yet. I'll have to wait until I've had a chance to go through all this." He saw the looked of confusion on my face. “I inserted an access into the base code, a remote 'back-door' into the system. If anything strange is going on I'll know.”

  “My father had a similar set-up on a computer in my flat at the Hall.”

  Oldfield looked me sharply. “What do you mean?”

  I told him what I had discovered. He smiled gently. “That’s the code I showed him how to write back when we were at Cambridge. My own invention. He remembered. Well I'll be damned. It's quite antiquated now, but obviously it still works.”

  He declined a flight in the helicopter, preferring to keep his feet on the ground and opted to take the train. 'Good meditation time' was how he put it.

  Julie and I flew back to the Hall as dawn broke across a threatening looking sky. A cold front was expected in the early afternoon and I didn't want to be caught out. As it was, the first spattering of rain began just as we wheeled the aircraft back into the hangar.

  It was still raining two days later as we pulled into the parking slot at the University. Big drops splashing down, gathering force until soon it seemed as if we were driving through a waterfall. Oldfield had called and asked us to meet him at the University. Cambridge was only one hour’s drive away and with the weather conditions, flying made no sense.

  Julie and I dashed to the door and were met by the Professor. He led us through the corridors, greeting students and faculty alike until we finally arrived at his office, a small but immaculately kept room full of reference books on computer theory and computer language. He wasted no time once we were settled into our seats.

  "What do you know about the way computers operate?" he said to me.

  “Not much. Zeros and ones?” I offered. Julie dug me in the ribs sharply and Oldfield just looked at me as if I was an idiot.

  "I know you know more than that. Okay. These days with the Internet and cloud storage, we can keep billions and billions of pieces of information in multiple places, that unless you were specifically looking for, and knew the pathway to, you would never find." He paused and crossed to a filing cabinet, opened it and pulled out a bottle of Talisker Single Malt Scotch Whisky. “Unless you're a very good hacker.” He poured two glasses handed one each to Julie and myself, then poured a generous amount into his own glass.

  “Now you will appreciate that if a company such as yours takes all its financial, employee records, accounts and other business activities, and stores that information in the 'Cloud', it is particularly susceptible to fraud or sabotage. Indeed a certain gentleman has claimed that he could 'steal a company blind in three days and leave its books looking balanced'. It has been done on numerous occasions and the ones we know about are only the people who have been caught. Now we try to prevent 'hacking' from occurring by employing very sophisticated security encryption programs, but sometimes the base system is so outdated that it is easy to crawl in through a 'backdoor'. One reason why Governments are always being hacked is that they employ security companies with the lowest bid.” He took a long draft of scotch and licked his lips appreciatively before turning his gaze on me. “How do you like the whisky?”

  “A little peaty for my taste, but interesting.”

  He nodded and poured more into his glass. “How did you know that there was something wrong with the system?"

  "Well, it's more of a gut feeling. I feel there's something wrong and yet there is no information, which serves to further fuel my feeling that there is something wrong. That and the fact that my father was murdered."

  He nodded. “I managed to find out the amount of computer storage that had been used, cross-checked this with the programmes running and the data files. There are seven and a half gigabytes unaccounted for. The computer is simply a machine that relies upon being given information. Very sophisticated and complex information to be sure, but information coded by a human being. In this case you can run through the specific area of Rathborne Micro-Electronics and come up with all the answers to questions relevant to business, but if you then compare the data usage to the function, you come up with a missing seven and a half gigabytes." He looked at me with a smile of satisfaction. “That's the simple explanation.”

  I sat and thought for a moment. "OK. Now you answer me a question, how did you manage to get that information out of the comput
er, if there are these encryption security devices for obscuring the data?"

  He continued to smile, and I began to feel a fool before he answered. This was his territory and I was an outsider with little understanding.

  "It's what I do. Most of the programmers in companies such as yours do not have the time or the expertise to dream up complicated protection devices, so tend to stick to a simple code, or use off-the-shelf systems. Once I unravelled that code, the rest was easy. After all, that is one reason why your father kept the files of the board of directors on paper and in his safe." I was about to ask him how he knew when he held up his hand to silence me. "I know because they are not stored anywhere else."

  "So what have we got then? A missing seven gigabytes of data and nothing else?"

  "Not quite. I think if you check up on the cash transfers of Rathborne you may find that large sums have been given to contractors. The invoicing seems to be correct but the amounts and method are not in keeping with the rest of the system. That was the only thing I could find that didn't seem quite as it should be."

  "Would the IT guys in the Company have noticed this?"

  "I would think so, if they had not done it themselves in the first place. Don't forget, the IT guys are rather like computers themselves. They will only react and work to a set of instructions that are given to them."

  "So you think there is some fraud going on that emanated from the board room?"

  "I think fraud is a little strong, because if someone not involved with the deal was asked to run a programme which he knew to be part of a fraud, then odds are that he would not do it."

  "So it was either done by one of the board or a person from elsewhere. That being the case, surely the operators would have noticed something a little strange just as you did?"

  "Yes, except that the code used to obscure the Rathborne accounts would probably not have been available to IT.”

  "Was there anything else strange about the thing?"

  "No, just the usual games played by bored operators. Crosswords with cryptic clues and that sort of thing."

  "Going back to the missing data. Have you any idea what might be on it? Or where it is?"

  "That is virtually impossible to say. My guess would be that it is data that links directly in with the accounting system. It could be the explanation as to why the procedures changed for this particular company. It could be anything. As to where to find the missing seven gigabytes of data, I'd look for a flash drive."

  “Couldn't you have told us this over the phone, or on Skype?” Julie asked.

  “I need your phones so I can encrypt them.” He held out his hand. We handed over our iPhones and watched as he plugged in a cord connected to his computer and busied himself for a few minutes at the keyboard, then handed them back to us along with a small thumb drive and a sheet of hand written notes. “On the drive is a security program you need to install on your computers. Instructions are on the sheet.”

  The conversation carried on into the realms of speculation. Julie had been very quiet throughout and didn't speak except to say goodbye to Oldfield as we left to drive back to Calder Hall. The rain had ceased leaving the roads shiny under the street lamps, reflecting the safety lights in the shop windows.

  "What do you think?" Julie said quietly.

  "How do you mean?"

  "Are you any closer to understanding what is going on with Rathborne?"

  "No. I have some more information now, so I'm going to have another crack at Adrian. I'm sure he knows that the accounting system was strange. And I'm sure he is well aware of the amounts paid to these contractors. Now that your father has given me the code, I will he able to find out who received all the money."

  Julie lay back in the seat and closed her eyes. It had been a long day. I drove the remainder of the journey in silence while she dozed.

  FIVE

  "Mr McDougall is away on a trade mission and will not be back for a few days. Do you want me to make an appointment with one of his assistants? I have his office on hold." Jennifer's face pixelated a little on the monitor as she leaned over to retrieve a document.

  "Yes, please. Make it as soon as possible."

  "Will do. I'll get back to you in a minute." Our daily Skype routines were proving a good and efficient way to work. She went offline and I accepted Adrian's call. He was seething with anger at the knowledge that I had Oldfield go through the computer without his knowing.

  "Do we keep back-up servers in a remote location in addition to the office mainframe?" I asked.

  "Of course. But they are in a separate security room in the sub-basement. Not offsite.” His voice was tight and barely under control, his dislike of me very apparent. But at this moment I really didn't care what he thought of me. The priority was to get to the bottom of this Rathborne mess.

  "Are they secure? By that I mean, who has access to them?"

  "Only specific members of the board. The Head of IT of course also has access but only with one of us." I didn't say anything for a while. Just let him wonder what I was going to say next. Whilst we sat and looked at each other in silence, Jennifer confirmed by instant message that I had an appointment with a Mr Jonathan Radley at 1500hrs tomorrow afternoon. I hoped the weather would clear as I didn't fancy the drive from the Hall into central London.

  "Do you know how Government business loans are paid to companies, Adrian? Obviously I'm thinking about Rathborne in particular."

  "There are various methods. Bank guarantees, letters of credit, immediate cash injections, that sort of thing. How the Rathborne loan was handled I have no idea. I've told you before."

  "I don't think you did. There is not a lot that gets past you and I cannot envisage my father making any major decisions without consulting you."

  "Are you calling me a liar?" he shouted, his voice rising to a choking screech. "Well, are you?"

  "I'm not in the mood for histrionics, Adrian. Sooner or later, with or without your help, I am going to find out what this is all about, and if there is a link to my father's murder.”

  "Now you listen to me," he snarled, leaning over the desk shaking his finger at me. "I have told you before that if you want my resignation you can have it. Just say the word."

  "Tempting Adrian, but you know as well as I do that you won’t resign. People like you are too afraid of being unemployed. Besides, who is going to pay you the sort of money you get here?" It was a risky thing to say but I was pretty sure I was right. It was time we had a showdown and it was better now than later.

  I wanted to know exactly where he stood. My words seemed to have the desired effect and he slowly crumpled back into the seat.

  "I'm sorry, Thomas, but there is nothing I can I tell you about the deal. I tried to get your father to tell me, but he just said that when it was over and settled then I would be put in the picture. Until then the facilities of the Group would be available to the Managing Director of Rathborne. He didn’t even tell me the man's name. All the instructions we had were via the encrypted email and the data was fed into the computer. We don't even know who did the programming. Occasionally, your father took away one or both of the external storage drives, presumably for security." He looked tired and defeated.

  "You said one or both of the storage drives. Are you sure there were two? There is only one in the computer room."

  "Yes, positive. One I know was just general accounting data and movement of money, both in and out of the account, and the other I didn't see too clearly, but it seemed to be a personnel file of some description. Your father switched off the computer before I had a chance to see what it was all about." He leaned forward, about to cut off our Skype link when I interrupted.

  "Adrian. You are the only one who knows how the Group runs. I'm going to have to rely on you heavily over the next few weeks while I clear up this mess. If, after that, you want to leave just let me know." He looked at me for some long seconds before nodding stiffly in agreement.

  Was this just a wild goose chase?
Was Adrian telling me the truth about external storage drives? There was something about the way he looked down when he was telling me about the external drives that didn't seem genuine.

  There were times when I would cheerfully have walked away from all this, but there was, in the background, the vision of my father lying on the slab in the mortuary with the back of his head blown off, and I had to find out why.

  Five minutes to three o'clock the following afternoon, saw me in Victoria at the offices of the Department for Business, Innovation and Skills. All Government buildings have the same effect on me. I want to get out as quickly as possible before getting sucked into the morass of forms and papers. For me there is always a strange feel about these places, as if we, the general public, are a necessary nuisance and that if we didn’t exist, it would make the running of government far easier for civil servants. So with a feeling of persecution, I squared my shoulders and prepared to do battle.

  Once past the reception and up at the sixth floor to Hamish McDougall's office, I was shown into a side room by Mr Radley's secretary and asked to wait. I got the feeling that if Mr Radley decided he was too busy that I could remain in the room forever and nobody would care. Finally the door opened and the secretary motioned me to follow her. Jonathan Radley rose from his desk, stitched a civil service smile on his face and spoke in a slightly lisping manner. He was medium height, close cropped dark hair, and surprisingly light blue eyes, wearing an expensive Saville Row suit and a distinctive salmon pink Leander Rowing Club tie.

  "Good afternoon, Mr Gunn, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long. Such a lot to do these days,” he said extending his hand. His grip was firm and brief. I noted that his desk was empty and that the secretary hadn't carried any papers or files out with her.