Whistleblower

by Terry Morgan

CHAPTER 53

  “I'm going to Bristol tomorrow morning.”

  "Margaret?" Tom asked, hesitantly.

  Jim nodded. They were having breakfast and, on advice from Tom that he needed to put on weight, Jim had tried a full English breakfast for the first time for years. The eggs, bacon, sausage, beans and fried tomatoes were already lying heavily.

  "What about the paintings, Jim? Any thoughts?"

  "Leave it with me." Jim grimaced.

  "So," said Tom, getting up, "I'm off to Stockholm."

  "And I'm off to be sick," said Jim, but he managed a faint smile.

  "Go into Windsor," Tom suggested. "Buy some iced coconut juice and fresh bananas from the side of the road, Jim."

  In north London, Jonathan was trying to be helpful around the house. He had a long list - fix a plug, replace a light bulb, sweep the dead leaves. He was sorting trash for recycling when he felt his mobile vibrating in his back pocket. It was Scott Evora.

  "My apologies for calling so soon and on a Sunday, Jonathan, but we've got movement on what I spoke to you about yesterday. Can you talk?"

  "Sure." Jonathan dumped the trash on the kitchen floor and leaned against the refrigerator as Claire washed dishes from the night before.

  "Silvester Mendes. Yeh, him again. Our man got him talking last night. They were in a nightclub somewhere - don't ask, OK. Anyway, our man starts talking European aid money again. Mendes had clearly been giving the subject some thought because he brought the subject up. He then starts asking questions - the who, how, what, where and when. Our man does what he can but he's no expert, right? Admits it. 'Anyway,' he says to Mendes, 'I know a guy who knows this stuff inside out.' He mentions no names, but Mendes is all ears again. His first question, 'Is this guy official or is he loose?' Know what that means, Jonathan?"

  "I suppose he was asking if I'm really a crook," offered Jonathan, feeling Claire's eyes.

  "Yep, that's right - means is he as honest as the day is long, is he already a clever, white collar crook like Mendes himself or, if not, could he be tempted to become one. Our man probably shrugs and smiles, says nothing. Lets the smile work. Mendes starts asking more questions - where's all this aid money go, what for, who decides etcetera. Our man mentions Afghanistan, Pakistan, West Africa 'cus he already knows that's just the sort of places Mendes likes.

  "Anyway, cut to the chase, Mendes starts getting excited. We already know he's running a bit scared of the US at present - he knows we've been watching him, he's no fool. So, what should he do, he asks himself. Why not shelve the US operation for a while and start up over here, he thinks. After all, London looks OK from his perspective, nice hotels, good clubs, he speaks the language, there's plenty of life going on with people coming and going, immigration controls allow a bit of flexibility, lots of cash being given away to far off places. And it's all nice and complicated, too, 'cus it's not just London, it's the whole of Europe and the bureaucracy is just one big beautiful mess - and that's his favourite scene. The messier it is, the better. Mendes works by hiding within a messy system because he uses others you see. He breaks cover sometimes - but only if necessary, because he generally tries operating through others - like when he was spotted in Islamabad.

  "You still following me, Jonathan? Good man. Now, listen up. How about it if we give Mendes your phone number? We're not sure how long he's planning to stick around. If he phones you, see what you can do, give him all the shit about the boring daily routine of business advice and consultancy just so as to appear fully compliant etcetera, but then rub in the tastier side, the positives, the side that gets you excited - you know - the alternative ways and means to make a decent living. Suggest a few best places he could start. Give a few examples. Make them up if necessary. Just go with the flow. Go fishing, Jonathan. Help us hook him. Meet him if you feel comfortable but play him along. Keep us posted and we'll try fixing him up good and proper. And don't worry. I'll make sure your name is logged here as one of our team of local co-operatives. How's it sound?"

  Jonathan thought about Jan, Jim and Tom and took a deep breath. If they could show the FBI was getting interested, might it help their case? Yes, probably, he decided. And he was sure Jim would agree. And what might Scott Evora think if he got to meet Jim and so know the extent of their own investigations. That part might need thinking about but they were in this thing up to their necks already. Yes, give it a day or so, he thought, and he'd fix it for Jim to get introduced to the FBI Legal Attache's office.

  "OK," Jonathan said. "Let's give it a go. I hate greed, fraud and corruption. We'd all be a lot better off if we could stamp at least some of it out." Jonathan saw Claire shake her head and take off her rubber gloves.

  "Good man. OK, we'll do the rest. Let us know if he phones. Oh and by the way - very important - if you talk to him or go along to meet him, he's Lucas Valdez, OK? We and you know he's actually Silvester Mendes but to you he's Lucas, OK? So don't start calling him Silvester or we're all fucked." And then he laughed.

  Jonathan joined in knowing he was bad at remembering names but it was a warning he'd not thought of. He retrieved the bag of recyclable trash and took it outside.

  "Who was that, Jon?" Claire asked, following him.

  "FBI," said Jonathan.

  "Don't be stupid. Did you change that light bulb?"

  Jonathan's mind, though, was not on light bulbs but on Jim. From behind the trash bins, he phoned him with another quick update.