by Terry Morgan
CHAPTER 60
Some eleven hours later, a dismal grey morning, and it was Jim's turn to meet Scott Evora in the Mayfair area of London. He was on the train when Jonathan phoned about his meeting the night before with Silvester Mendes.
"Scott still knows nothing about what we're up to Jim. So, play it by ear. You decide what to tell him. And remember, Jan is meeting Guido tonight."
"And Tom should already be there," Jim added. "The plan is he'll be lurking somewhere close by."
"Do you think we are getting somewhere at last, Jim?" Jonathan sounded almost excited.
"Yes," Jim said thoughtfully. "But we'll need something very special if we're to convince the powers that be to do something or even believe us. And somehow we'll need to find a way of extricating Jan before he gets hurt. And, as for your big muscular friend Silvester, how do you feel about him discovering you are a part-time FBI agent?"
"Don't make me nervous, Jim. Let's just keep going for now. See where it all leads."
Jim had always enjoyed a cup or two of good Italian espresso mid morning. He could now smell it as he rounded the corner. Despite the cold, grey drizzle, Alfredo's door was wide open and there was no mistaking Scott Evora. The blonde-haired six footer was already sitting at a small metal table out of reach of drips of water from the red, white and green striped canopy. He clearly recognised Jim.
"Jim Smith?" He stood up, scraped the chair back on the stone pavement and held out a big hand. Jim shook it and sat down. "Coffee?" Jim nodded and Evora called inside the open door to order another espresso. "They know me. It's the best coffee within a mile of the Embassy."
They looked at one another. Jim pushed his damp, straggling, grey hair back behind his ears, wiped rain drops from his face and then wiped his hand on his new brown jumper that was as wet as his hair. An umbrella, he had decided, was to be his next purchase.
"Call me Scott," Evora said. "It's great to meet you. It was Jonathan's suggestion. It was also his suggestion I did a bit of research before we met." He laughed. "A lot was written about you a few years back." He laughed. Jim nodded once more.
"You were sure riding low in the popularity stakes. Then all the mentions stopped just like you died or something."
"Some wished I really had died."
"You were very outspoken."
Jim loved questions like that. "And why not? People do not want self interested politicians who pussy foot around and keep their heads down just to ensure their re-election. They elect politicians who they hope are brave enough to face up to problems and solve them. I agree I was a bit rough around the edges at the start but I had a lot to learn in a very short time. I was a successful businessman, not a career politician who'd never had a proper job."
Scott Evora laughed. "Jesus, you should come and live in the States - they'd love you. So why did they get so mad? Couldn't they take it?"
Jim did not know where to start. "How long have you got?" A toothy smile appeared from somewhere inside the wet beard. "You've read the reports. I started out with a long list of subjects I wanted to address as a politician. Perhaps I started with the wrong one. I was reminded of another one on the London underground just now - over population. Dear me, cattle trucks are less crowded. Cattle have minimum standards for their transportation that London Transport could do well to emulate for commuters. But please don't get me going on that."
The coffee arrived. Evora moved cups around. "But it was international aid that got you fired up," he said, spooning sugar into his cup.
"Yes. I started with the billions of Dollars and Euros given for international aid projects - the public's money, let's not forget - vast sums are lost through fraud and corruption and I wanted it recognised that the leading perpetrators are often the very people who decide where it should be spent and who are then entrusted to spend it. Is it not right to ask for action to investigate it and then find ways to stop it?"
"Yeh, I would have thought so," said Evora.
Jim took a breath, sipped his coffee, looked around at the wet and dreary London scene but didn't see it. There was so much he could say but, he reminded himself, he was sat with a man from the American establishment - the FBI. He changed tack. "But you're only interested in American aid money."
"Not necessarily, Jim. Fraudsters stealing USAID money also steal other countries aid money. One of my jobs is to put a finger on these people and bring them to justice. It ain't easy and it aint made any easier by official attitudes as you've noticed. But at least in the USA there's a debate going about how fraud and corruption undermines well meaning projects. Here? I'm not so sure. You tried and they came gunning for you. No wonder people run scared shit of asking questions."
Jim already sensed he might enjoy this conversation. "But even in the USA little is actually done about it," he said. "Estimates are that twenty percent of aid is lost to corruption and mismanagement. In Europe it's probably more. Huge amounts are lost to fraud within Europe itself. Billions are utterly wasted. Why, for instance, even think about giving aid to a country for improving the skills of unemployed youths when that country doesn't have any jobs to offer. Surely you solve the first problem first - create some jobs."
"Politics?" suggested Evora, "Influence? You scratch my back, Ill scratch yours?"
"Correct. And re-election of course. Ensuring re-election takes absolute priority over solving problems. Here's some money, now go and vote for me. In a different situation they'd call it bribery, but it's not nice for politicians to have to admit that they've collectively managed to create deep seated problems that'll take more than money to solve.
"And much of the problem comes back to my other argument about overpopulation. Thousands of poverty stricken, unemployed migrants pour into Europe and USA. from Africa and elsewhere every day. They come looking for jobs that don't exist. Result? Increased pressure and social tensions on economies already in trouble. Fundamental cause? Overpopulation. Too many people, too few jobs. So face up to the fundamental cause not pussy foot around the edges for fear of upsetting people. Surely that's what leadership is. It's all so blindingly obvious."
"Jim," said Evora, "You're already making me depressed. No wonder nobody liked you."
"Ah, but depression can be a constructive emotion, Scott." said Jim.
"Really? I've never looked on it like that."
"Then think about it. Living alone as I do and feeling a little fed up now and again is not uncommon. The solution is not to sit and mope, but to sit and decide precisely why you're feeling that way. Then you define the exact cause in the clearest possible terms and then sit and work on a solution. It requires nothing more than quiet solitude and a decent brain. If the brain has undergone some decent scientific training in the past it'll help."
"Then I fear I'm lost. Jim."
Jim sighed. "So, if you're lost, how can I help?"
"Reading about you helped with the background. Jonathan has also been a big help and so, but I need a......."
Jim interrupted. "Listen, Scott, I asked you just now, how long you've got? I didn't expect an answer that time, so I'll ask you again and this time you can answer it? How long have you got?"
Evora glanced at his watch and grinned. "You got a lot, Jim? I wondered if you had. If so I'll stick around a bit. I'm all ears."
Jim hadn't noticed that the rain outside Alfredo's was now steady and heavy. He talked. At the end of it, Scott Evora knew about Jim's link with Jonathan and, without mentioning their names, about Jan and Tom. He explained why he was back in England and what he wanted to do.
"This is all totally confidential, Scott. If the media get to know, I'm finished yet again. So would Jonathan be, so would our mole be and so would our plan. And your own efforts might well be scuppered as well. We've got to keep it quiet."
"I understand, Jim, and, if it'll make you feel good, Jonathan was fantastic. We got everything on tape. He was like a pro. I couldn't have done it better myself - but, then I couldn't have done it anyway." He paused. "But wh
o's your mole?"
"No names, Scott, because he's in a tricky enough spot already."
"And the other guy?"
"My health adviser and nurse? He's currently in Holland chasing the one called Guido."
"Hmm. So you're not saying. And what's your feedback on this guy, Guido? Is he based in Holland?"
"Our mole knows him. He's Italian. We might know more in the next day or so."
"You must know more, Jim. Come on, spill the beans."
Jim took another deep breath.
"Scott. Listen. Nearly four years ago I asked for an official investigation. But, in retrospect, I think I was wrong. Why? Because even if one had been started, there would have been an elaborate cover up, it would have dragged on for years and years, the public would have lost interest and the prime suspects would have been long gone, retired or living it up overseas. An investigation might have found a few small issues but because of the high profile, all the big fish would have dived deeper leaving only a few small fry caught in the net. No, the only way to catch these people is to catch them with their hands in the till. And how do you do that? Undercover is the answer, but we'd still need evidence that would stand up in court. With four of us, all volunteers, how would you rate our chances?"
Scott Evora grunted. "We might have enough on Silvester Mendes. We've only just got wind of this guy, Guido. But we know almost nothing, Jim and I'm running for the US Government, not Europe or anywhere else. So what can we do together? How can we help?"
"Dear me," Jim grinned behind the beard. "I never thought I'd hear that from a FBI agent. You really want to help? If so, here is the first way. Go back to the US Government. Demand that these massive frauds move up the political agenda. Start to frighten these characters. Make the public more aware of where their taxes are going. Get the public angry. And.........." Jim paused. He pulled on his beard, scratched the back of his head and felt the new elastic band snap.
"And?" prompted Scott Evora.
"Give us some help and advice on technical surveillance. Even a few devices like you lent Jonathan."
Scott Evora grinned. "No problem," he said. "But........" It was his turn to pause.
"But what?"
"Keep us involved?" It was a question with a plea.
"You are already involved, Scott. Why am I here? But we need help to get some international arrest warrants - Interpol that sort of thing."
"Yep, that's something we can do, but only when we've got something to go on."
"And that is exactly what we're trying to get, so help us."
Shortly after that, they shook hands and Jim walked off into the pouring rain to buy an umbrella.
