Whistleblower

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 20

  At his north London office, Jonathan Walton was working late. Seven thirty wasn't unusual but he'd been sitting at his computer since morning. It was Friday, he was tired, his eyes were losing focus and he had the makings of a bad headache. Thinking enough was enough, he rubbed his eyes and sat back. As he did so, the main office phone rang. With a sigh, he leaned over and picked it up. The caller was male, the voice deep and strong and with an accent that Jonathan put down as African, but he had never been good enough at accents to pin it down any further.

  "Ah, is that Walton Associates?" asked the voice.

  "Yes," repeated Jonathan, "I'm Jonathan Walton, the managing director."

  "Yes, I see. Your website says you help charities to bid for money."

  "Yes," said Jonathan and because he was tired, he was tempted to reel off the exact words on the company's website that the caller had just mentioned. But he thought better of it and shortened it. "Yes, we offer various types of help to businesses and charities and that includes bidding for funds."

  "Yes, I see. We would like some help."

  "Mm" Jonathan thought. "This looks like it might take a while." He said, "Can I ask your name. sir?"

  "I am Mr Johnson."

  "And where are you from, Mr Johnson?"

  "Ah, Lagos, Nigeria, but I am in London."

  A red light flashed somewhere inside Jonathan's aching head. Scams and other illegal practices were too common from that part of the world and this, even at this stage, had all the right signs. "And the charity's name?" he asked.

  "Well, sir, it is called African Young Business."

  "And what does it do?"

  "It helps young Africans start businesses."

  "I see. So do you know if there are sources of international funding for that sort of thing?"

  "I was hoping you might know about that."

  "Yes, we can sometimes help there."

  "So what else can you do?"

  Jonathan took a deep breath. His headache was suddenly getting worse. Unable to come up with anything fresh, he started to quote from the website. "We can assess your project. We can help you find suitable partners and provide legal advice for partnership working. We can develop and draft international grant applications where there are suitable funds. We can help lobby for your organisation. We can offer project management training. There is a lot we can do - but it all depends on your organisation and what you need."

  The last bit was a polite way of warning Mr Johnson. We're a busy company, we are selective who we work with and I do not want to be messed about, OK? Jonathan hoped he had got the message. Perhaps he had, perhaps not. Either way it didn't matter. Even if this turned out to be commercial fraud on an international scale, Jonathan had been wanting to find something like that since meeting Jim Smith. He had told Jim it might not take too long to come across something suspicious. His suspicions were now immediately re-enforced

  "OK, Sir. Well, perhaps I'll leave it for now."

  Jonathan heard the phone click, touched the red button on his own receiver and pressed his hands around his throbbing head. "Ah, well," thought Jonathan and went home. "More than likely, he'll phone again."

  He did. The second call from Mr Johnson came on Monday morning.. The call was taken by Sarah, the receptionist and Jonathan's PA. As Mr Johnson already said he'd spoken to Mr Walton on Friday, Sarah put the call through to Jonathan.

  "Good morning, Mr Johnson."

  "Yes, good morning. We spoke on Friday."

  "Indeed. Have you thought about how we might help you?"

  "Yes. Can we meet?"

  "Before we do, can you tell me a little more about your project - a brief summary perhaps?"

  "Ah, it's for Sierra Leone."

  "I see. A little more information, perhaps?"

  "Yes, sir. It is an eco-tourism project. My associates are building a 50 million dollar tourist complex - hotel, apartments, restaurants and shops. It is to attract more foreign tourists."

  "Mm, very interesting. But I thought it was called African Young Business.

  "Ah, yes, that is another project."

  "So we now have two projects. Who is leading on the Sierra Leone one?"

  "It is what we call a joint venture. "

  "Yes, I have heard about joint ventures," Jonathan said. "Who are the main partners?"

  "Ah, yes. Ah, the main partner is Sulima Construction. The other is Vacation Afrique. It is a French company."

  "So why do you need funds?" asked Jonathan. "These partners sound big enough."

  "Ah, no. It is for the extra work - work not included in the main contract."

  "And what is that extra work?"

  "It is for the, uh, solar water heaters, waste water recovery systems, insulated walls and roofs, double glazed windows - other energy saving systems........and, uh, so on." Jonathan felt sure Mr Johnson was reading from something lying in front of him. No matter, he often did that himself.

  "And who is supplying and fitting the energy saving systems?"

  "Ah, it will be subcontracted."

  "Can I ask, to whom?"

  "This will depend on funding, sir. Without funding there will be no energy saving systems."

  "That would be a big pity I agree. Do you work for Sulima Construction or Vacation Afrique, Mr Johnson?"

  "Ah, neither, sir. We are acting as consultants to the project."

  Well, there was nothing better than a consultancy to hide behind, Jonathan thought, smiling to himself. "And the name of your company - the consultants?" He asked.

  "Ah, perhaps we should meet?"

  The meeting was fixed for 8pm on Monday night. The venue, a small, cheap place that called itself a hotel but was, more aptly, a bed and breakfast joint off the Cromwell Road in west London. In his mind and in the current jargon of the business, Jonathan had labelled the meeting as 'exploratory' and so arrived with nothing except a business card and his laptop. But this was far more than Mr Johnson had when he arrived, late, at 8.45. Jonathan had sat, his patience almost expired, in an uncomfortable, sagging arm chair next to a table stained with coffee cup rings and a wilting, potted plant.

  When Mr Johnson arrived Jonathan shook a large, sweaty palm and Mr Johnson dragged up a hard, upright chair. Then they eyed each other across the table and spoke in barely audible whispers. The Nigerian was big and heavy but well dressed - newish looking suit, whitish shirt, cuff links, big gold ring with a red stone - but the entire effect was spoiled by a badly tied, off-centre tie and a pair of black, lace-up shoes that were in desperate need of some polish. When he finally shook the Nigerian's big hand again at 10pm, Jonathan's instinct told him that something was definitely going on here that had little to do with youth start-up businesses or leisure complexes .Getting even that far, though, had been hard work.

  "I checked Sulima Construction, Mr Johnson. Sulima is in Sierra Leone but there is a very small company with that name based in Ghana. But I could not find any trading history or names of directors."

  "Yes, but it is growing very fast."

  "And I checked Vacation Afrique. The only company I could find with that name was a travel agent in Paris."

  "It is not that travel agent."

  "And you mentioned you represent a consultancy."

  "Yes."

  "So, can you explain more about this consultancy, Mr Johnson? You see, I am struggling a little to get my head around your business."

  Mr Johnson looked around the so-called TV lounge as if he had no wish to be overheard. This was unlikely. The TV was on - a film of something, but with the sound off - and there was only one other guest, a man who might have been a plumber on a short term contract. He was fast asleep, grunting occasionally, a crumpled copy of the Daily Mirror slipping from his lap.

  "Ah, yes," the Nigerian scratched the side of his nose and then pulled on his ear lobe. "But I thought Walton Associates specialised in this sort of thing."

  "What sort of thing would that be, Mr Johnson?"
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  "Well, I was told that you have experience in finding funds for projects in Africa.....especially if it is to do with the environment."

  "Yes, a little. Go on."

  "And, uh, my Lebanese associates spoke highly of you."

  "Your Lebanese associates?"

  "Yes. They recommended you."

  Jonathan said nothing. He had no recollection of meeting any Lebanese, but almost six years of trying to fathom out what the hell was going on in certain business and political circles had already meant rubbing shoulders with some unusual people. Within the last few weeks, though, since meeting Jim and Jan Kerkman, sections of circles were starting to join up. He had made a promise to help look into certain matters and knew it might be fraught with risk, not least to the reputation Walton Associates. But the promise had been made and he had no wish to suddenly walk away.

  Seconds of silence passed as he considered his position but, finally, he smiled at the Nigerian. It was a deliberate smile, as honest a smile as he could summon. It was a smile aimed at communicating a desire, however repugnant, to do business in a way that would ignore the straightjacket of regulation. The Nigerian smiled back, similarly.

  "Then it might be best, Mr Johnson, if, for this venture we use another company with which I am involved. Walton Associates, you see, mostly deals with rather ordinary business advice to UK companies and charities and I normally delegate that sort of thing to my staff. I suspect that, in this case, we may need the use of my other company. It is a much more outward looking and flexible business. Is this what your Lebanese friends are referring to?"

  Mr Johnson's smile grew into a wide grin. "Yes, I expect so, Mr Walton. Like you, we have to be sure that the partners we choose are fit for purpose."