Whistleblower

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 38

  Deputy Legal Attache, FBI agent Scott Evora, had only been gone an hour when:

  "It's Mr Johnson for you, Jonathan."

  "It's just as well he didn't phone an hour ago," thought Jonathan. "Good afternoon, Jacob," he said aloud.

  "Good afternoon, Jon. It is so pleasant to hear your voice again. Have you, uh...........?"

  "Yes, all is in hand. Everything is in my brief case right here. But I'm still waiting for certain documents from you."

  "Yes, that is why I am calling you. I now have them. They arrived by courier this morning. It is efficient, eh?"

  "Yes, very good. And the, uh, Minister's signature on the, uh.......?"

  "Yes."

  "The confirmation of the ten percent contribution from the Ministry?"

  "Yes."

  "Excellent. Then it shouldn't take long for me to complete everything. Will you send them to me or......?"

  "You will need the originals or will copies do?

  "We will need to submit originals with the bid but, of course, we will keep copies."

  "Ah, so we must meet. I will hand them over in person."

  They agreed. 7pm, same venue as last time. "And there's one more thing." Johnson added. "We.....we have another project. This one is in the Middle East. My Lebanese associates."

  "I see. Can I assume you will also want to discuss that this evening?"

  "That is very good of you."

  This time, Jacob Johnson was waiting when Jonathan arrived just before 7pm. Documents handed over, quick clarification of next steps done and it was obvious that Johnson was keen to move on to his new project.

  "Ah, we have another company now. It is called Cherry Pick Investments," he began. "My Lebanese partners asked for our advice concerning a funding bid. Naturally I was able to tell them that we have a new partner - of course that is you, Jonathan - and we advised them to utilise your very detailed knowledge of these things. Of course, I did not mention your name. That is not the way to retain strict confidences. But I told them we were already at an advanced stage in one big project."

  "I would hardly call it an advanced stage, Jacob, but never mind, these things take time. I would say we are making good progress."

  "Yes, that is what I told them."

  "So, Cherry Pick Investments?"

  "Yes, that is it. There is, ah, in the Middle East that is - an organisation that supports young people who want to see a peaceful outcome to the problems in the Middle East."

  "I see. What is it called?"

  "Ah yes, let me see." Johnson fumbled in the inside pocket of his oversized suit and pulled out a wallet, a passport, a dirty credit card and a torn off scrap of paper. He laid it all on the coffee table besides their empty cups. "Yes, it is here. It is called the, uh, Coalition for Arab Youth. It is also called CAY."

  "CAY - that would be an acronym," said Jonathan.

  "Yes, that is it, a.......yes."

  "And CAY needs funding, is that it?"

  "Yes, but it is our Lebanese friends who want the funds."

  "Of course, how stupid of me. So what do you want me to do?"

  "To prepare a bid for this money, of course, just like the.......like the other one"

  "The other one being the Sierra Leone bid?"

  "Yes, that is it."

  "How much money is needed?"

  "At least two million dollars."

  Slowly, laboriously, Jonathan extracted details. Jonathan's Lebanese partners were called Farid and Hamid and were linked somehow by wives and family and a University in Beirut and something to do with Saudi Arabia, Jordan and Tel Aviv.

  "So why can't the wife of Hamid bid direct? She sounds very professional - a professor, in fact, did you not say - at the University?"

  "Ha ha ha. Yes, that is true but as I said they are, uh, wanting to, uh, ensure that they can, uh, handle the money themselves - you cannot trust anyone. There is too much, uh, interfering. You know?"

  "So have they already tried to bid for funds?"

  "Ah no, not yet. I said I would speak to you. They are not very, what shall I say, happy with another arrangement they have tried."

  "They were not successful with a previous bid?"

  "Oh no, no. They talked to another, ah, consultant. They were not happy with the, uh......they were not confident - that is it - not confident. They were not confident that the arrangement would be good for them. They, uh........yes."

  Jonathan listened, learning nothing, as Jacob Johnson continued for a while. Then: "So you can help on this one, Jon?"

  Inwardly, Jonathan shrugged - he was in for a penny so it might just as well be a pound. "There is an international education fund we could try for this one," he said. "It might fit perfectly. Provided we receive the usual support, good and timely information and all the right paperwork from your side."

  "Good, good. That is exactly what I told Farid and Hamid. I said I knew a much better person than the Italian man they were talking to."

  Jonathan's ears almost moved, but he let it go for the moment. "So what sort of financial arrangement are we talking about here, Jacob? Same as Sierra Leone?"

  "Yes, of course. No problem."

  "So what exactly?"

  "It is the same as before."

  Jonathan took a deep breath. "Yes, but the value of this bid would be less. I do not want to appear greedy. How about 50,000 Euros when the bid goes in and 100,000 Euros when the money is granted and transferred?"

  "Yes, of course. That is not a problem."

  "That's agreed then," said Jonathan, as amazed as last time about the way Johnson operated.

  But would the Nigerian honour anything? Probably not. And why? Because Jacob Johnson was just a small cog in a bigger wheel - a message boy. Because, when the time came, Jacob Johnson would think of himself first and foremost but mostly would be under pressure from others not to give away anything at all. And so what might happen in a few weeks or months time when two lucrative commissions could be expected to be paid to Jonathan? Well, Jacob Johnson would probably disappear back to Nigeria or somewhere. Jonathan would, most likely, never see him again.

  But did Jonathan care? Not a jot. Despite what was running through his mind, he managed a smile. "So I'll just wait for more information," he said. "Exactly like last time - names, addresses, letters of support, preferably from a government Minister etcetera. And we'll go for the Education fund I mentioned. Is that correct?"

  "Yes, yes and I'm moving to live here in London so we can handle more projects like this."

  News of a move to London was a surprise but Jonathan kept smiling. "Oh, that is good news. More coffee? A beer? Something stronger? I feel our partnership is already flourishing, Jacob."

  "Yes, yes. It is. It is definitely, uh......flurrying."

  Jonathan went in search of the man who had brought them their coffee earlier. Once found - he was reading the paper in the kitchen - he asked for two beers. Then he returned to join Jacob Johnson to wait. "Two beers are coming - eventually," Jonathan said. Then: "Tell me, Jacob, who is the Italian you mentioned?"

  "Oh, crazy man. I don't know him. Hamid told me. They met him in Milan. Not a nice man, Jon. Not trustworthy. I said it is better to deal with English. But Italians? pffff..... probably mafia and they don't speak English. It is not suitable to deal with the Italians. They know nothing."

  "Yes, I know what you mean," said Jonathan. "But I had no idea there was an Italian consultant competing with us? What is the Italian company's name?"

  "I only know his name. He is called Guido."

  "Never heard of him," said Jonathan. "Ah here comes our beer."