The Rules

by Laurence Todd

  Hemsley and Crattelle adopted serious expressions when they looked across the desk at each other. This was new ground for them and they were concerned about client confidentiality.

  He got up and whispered in her ear for a moment. She nodded. He then resumed his seat.

  “Okay.” Katrina Hemsley took over. “I can give you a very recent example, and this one caused us some real concern.”

  A look I found hard to read passed between Hemsley and Crattelle. She continued.

  “We were advising an Israeli firm about doing business in the UK. They were looking to join up with another firm, a possible merger. We did all the preliminary investigations and got all the paperwork going. Everything initially proceeded smoothly. James Blatchford then became involved. Part of his job was to do the due diligence checking, but he didn’t do it particularly well. That’s if he even did any.” She didn’t sound pleased. “The Israeli firm ended up financially over its head, had nothing like the resources required for the merger to proceed. It ended up having to be rescued by the Israeli central bank. I don’t know why, but we heard they couldn’t let this firm go out of business. It caused very considerable embarrassment for all parties in both countries. This situation wouldn’t have arisen but for the sloppy work Blatchford did.”

  “The firm had to be rescued because of its links with Israel’s government,” Crattelle said.

  “Such as what?”

  “I don’t know. We told the Israeli official we spoke to that it wasn’t our concern. I was just concerned with financial probity. He accepted that.”

  “What kind of firm are we talking about?”

  “Company was called Zealiac, an Israeli scientific research company, if memory serves,” Crattelle said. “It was a relatively new firm, looking to get involved with a similar firm in this country. There’s considerable expertise in this country for what Zealiac wanted to do. It was hoping to merge with this firm, but because of the financial complications that arose, it all fell through, didn’t go ahead as planned. The company Zealiac was hoping to merge with in this country had been counting on the merger as it would have meant a welcome capital injection. It was building new premises, and the new capital from the merger would have helped. It’s now, I understand, going into business with a larger American firm. We’re not involved in this.”

  This description had begun to sound familiar. Something about what Crattelle had said was beginning to help form another shape in my mind.

  “The firm Zealiac was hoping to merge with, was it called Ambersial?”

  Crattelle and Hemsley both looked at me and then each other, open-mouthed.

  “It was indeed,” Crattelle exclaimed. “How did you know that?”

  “Long story. Let’s just say I’m familiar with the company. The American company it’s now doing business with is known to us as well.”

  “I see.” He narrowed his eyes slightly.

  “I’m also told Blatchford has buried certain pieces of evidence,” I said, “which is why you and the FCA can’t proceed against him and revoke his licence. Is this true?”

  Again, the surprised look passed between Crattelle and Hemsley.

  “Yes,” Hemsley replied softly. “Without this, we can’t move against him.”

  “So we struck a deal,” Crattelle chipped in. “Neither side would benefit from embarrassing stories in the media, certainly we wouldn’t, and we didn’t want any political fallout from this deal collapsing, so we agreed to Blatchford taking leave of absence to start his mayoral campaign. We agreed, if he wins, he resigns from the firm and we all maintain a dignified silence, and if he loses, he gives us what he’s hidden but we don’t pursue him through the courts. He waits a decent interval, then resigns and leaves the firm. We didn’t discuss the issue of a reference.”

  “What exactly do you think he’s hidden from you?”

  Hemsley looked at Crattelle for guidance. He nodded sagely.

  “Documentation about some of his trades,” Hemsley said, “with the clear implication we were backing his judgement all the way. We weren’t, and wouldn’t have had we known, but he’d written letters to various clients stating he had the full backing and support of his board for what he was doing. He’d made copies and wiped his computer clean of all remaining evidence. I also think, from what the Israeli man said, he’d hidden something they were concerned with, but I don’t really know what that might be.” She looked pained saying this.

  “If this gets into the press,” Crattelle said, “whilst it’s not definitive either way, there’s sufficient innuendo to suggest the firm was culpable if lawsuits ever arose. This firm’s hard-won reputation for honesty would be fatally hit below the water line and, in this kind of business, where trust is paramount, a loss of reputation for financial probity is something you never recover from.” He spoke with some feeling. “We’d be finished.”

  “So, when you mentioned the press just now, Detective,” Hemsley chimed in, “you can imagine how nervous that made us feel.”

  I mused over what I’d just heard. I did a little lateral thinking, and then a thought dawned on me.

  “You mentioned Blatchford doing sloppy work earlier with this Israeli firm. Was it sloppy, or could it have been deliberate? Could he have been trying to sabotage the deal?”

  “What do you mean?” Crattelle asked, frowning.

  “What if Blatchford was actually attempting to prevent the merger, which is why he acted the way he did?”

  “But why would he do that?” Hemsley asked.

  “I don’t know. I was just wondering if you thought it was at least a possibility.”

  They were both looking worried again. I took my iPhone from my pocket and brought up a picture on the screen.

  “You mentioned an Israeli official.” I held the picture up. “Was it this person?”

  Crattelle looked closely at the picture for three seconds. “Yes, that’s the man who spoke to us a few weeks ago about the situation. His credentials said he was attached to the Israeli Embassy, though he didn’t specify exactly what it was he did there. They weren’t too happy with the situation, and he wanted to know why the merger hadn’t gone ahead. He also said Israel’s government had taken an interest in the merger, and were disappointed it failed, but obviously he wasn’t going to tell us why that was.”

  “So what happened after this?”

  “The man there” – he nodded at my picture – “said they’d not say anything. They accepted our apologies, and we left it at that.” He shrugged.

  Joachim Balpak was becoming ever more involved in whatever was happening here. I really needed to talk to this man. I hoped Smitherman was making progress with his enquiries concerning approaching him at the Israeli Embassy.

  “Who actually knows what Blatchford’s done?” I asked. “Myself and Katrina, plus two other senior partners. Other than that, only those whom Blatchford’s chosen to tell, and I suspect that’s a very small number indeed. Oh, and now you.” He smiled beatifically.

  And Jamal Khoudri and Sally Taylor, I thought wickedly.

  “Regarding your earlier question, Detective,” Hemsley said, “James Blatchford really did kick off his election campaign under a cloud of suspicion at this bank. But obviously we don’t want this made public. Nobody’d benefit from that. Our losses will be kept in-house. We can cover them from profits made on other deals we make.” She sat back in her chair. “So, have we answered your questions to your satisfaction?”

  I agreed that, for the moment, I had an idea of what Blatchford had been involved in, though I wasn’t sure what it meant. I thanked them for their time and left.

  *

  There were a lot of details about Blatchford on the security file I’d pulled up for him. He was nearly fifty, an Oxford graduate in Economics and a career banker who’d been in his current post several years. His credit rating was superlative, his reputation in the City was exemplary and he had no criminal record. He’d made three unsuccessful attempts to secur
e a nomination to contest a seat as a Conservative candidate at a general election. He’d been a member of the London Assembly for twelve years, deputy leader of the ruling Tory group for the last four, and was now making a bid to be the Mayor, albeit as an independent Tory. Most of the details concerning his parents, wife and children were routine and non-contentious.

  But I was more interested in his list of known contacts. The majority were people in or around the Conservative party, councillors or party officials. There were several pictures of him with leading senior politicians in his party, several of whom I recognised, plus one with the current Prime Minister. I wasn’t surprised to see Debbie Frost’s name mentioned, given she was something near the top of the hierarchy at party headquarters.

  There were several pictures of Blatchford with other senior politicians and political figures, taken at various meetings or social events. I was surprised to see Ian Mulvehill in one of the pictures, this particular picture having been taken at City Hall at a reception. He looked wholly out of place at such a soirée, very much like a man dying to call a taxi to go home.

  One picture caught my attention, however. It was a picture of a smiling James Blatchford amongst a group of seven other people. Blatchford was standing in the middle alongside Christian Perkins, both men looking imperious and holding glasses of something in their hands. On Perkins’ right was a radiant Debbie Frost, also holding a glass and smiling as though all her dreams had just come true. I remembered, at one time, Perkins had told me he and Frost had had an affair and, given how glowing she looked in the picture, I wondered if that was around this time. Between Blatchford and Perkins, but standing a little behind them, was a dour-looking Richard Rhodes, looking extremely uncomfortable in a shirt and tie. I didn’t recognise the other men in the picture, though the man standing on the other side of Debbie Frost looked a little like Blatchford.

  From the fact they were all wearing identity tags around their necks, and from the numbers milling around in the background, I initially surmised the picture was taken at the party conference. I noticed when the picture had been taken and realised I was right; it was. I’d have been surprised had Blatchford not known Christian Perkins, given his importance in London political circles. But the picture suggested he also knew Richard Rhodes. Jamal Khoudri’s death had almost resembled a summary execution, and Rhodes would certainly be skilful enough to carry it out.

  I was beginning to wonder about two things. Given his connectedness to senior figures in the Tory party, how was it that Blatchford had never been selected to fight a seat at a general election, especially considering the quality of several in the forefront of the current party? But I also wondered why he was standing as an independent Tory candidate. Why was he not the official party candidate?

  I read further on and was surprised to discover Blatchford’s younger brother Jeremy listed as being involved with animal rights extremists, such as the Animal Liberation Front and the Hunt Saboteurs Association. The ALF was a body of mainly young radicals who adhered to the view that animals were possessed of the same inalienable right to life as humans. As such, they passionately believed humans had no right to use animals for any kind of scientific experimentation, and they took this belief seriously. The Animal Liberation Front had been responsible for several well-publicised attacks on laboratories, causing extensive damage to property as well as freeing animals kept in cages. Their levels of harassment were almost legendary, and several small firms and their suppliers had gone out of business as a result of being targeted by this group. At the furthest edge of the Animal Liberation Front was the Justice Department, whose speciality was inflicting what they referred to as punitive violence upon anyone publically identified as being involved with animal experimentation, such as a scientist or director of a firm which used animals for experiments.

  Ambersial was such a firm. It was widely known this was what they did, which was why they had been experiencing such harassment from the demonstrators camped at their gate. I also knew Hembreys was looking to get involved in the business, which was why it wanted to do business with Ambersial.

  One of James Blatchford’s known associates was listed as Assa Khoudri. On its own, this was no surprise. Jamal Khoudri was one of his campaign managers, and the two men had known each other for some while, so it was only natural he’d know Jamal’s wife. But Assa had also been active in the demonstrations against Ambersial, and had died after the car she was travelling in had crashed into a tree. If Kevin Sharone was to be believed, her death, plus the death of the man she’d been travelling with, had not occurred as a result of an unfortunate accident either. Blatchford being listed as a known associate of Assa Khoudri, rather than just an acquaintance, suggested there was some degree of familiarity in their connection. I wondered just how deep this went. Was Jeremy Blatchford in any way connected to the activities of Assa Khoudri? Did James know about it if that was the case?

  This led me to think about Jamal Khoudri, recently of this parish. I knew about his closeness to, and political connection with, James Blatchford. What I didn’t know was whether Blatchford knew about Khoudri’s conversation with Sally Taylor, when Khoudri had spilled everything he knew about Blatchford’s financial rectitude. If Blatchford suspected this, if he thought Khoudri was talking to a journalist with a view to having these details aired in public, it would be a motive for murder. Was I suspecting Blatchford of being culpable for murder? It also raised the issue of Sally Taylor’s safety if he ever suspected what Khoudri had done.

  I didn’t know whether Jamal knew about Blatchford and his wife seemingly being more than just acquaintances, either.

  *

  Jeremy Blatchford was a teacher at Millbrooks, a prep school in Pimlico, near to where I’d recently met Christine Simmons, and close by the Tachbrook estate. After checking to ensure he was at work, I drove to the school. It was a small, private school, specialising in offering intensive cramming courses for mainly foreign students, teenagers newly arrived in the UK but looking to study for GCSEs and then A-levels. Millbrooks prepared them for this with crash courses in English as well as other essential subjects. I briefly scanned their website before leaving and, when I saw the list of fees charged, my eyes watered.

  I was taken by the school secretary into the head’s study, a small book-lined room with two chairs in front of a desk. The window offered a view of a well-manicured lawn and a back garden with several types of flower I didn’t recognise. There were also two small armchairs by the window. I accepted her offer of tea as I was waiting for Jeremy Blatchford.

  He arrived within a minute. As he entered I immediately pegged him as the man standing alongside Debbie Frost in one of the pictures I’d just seen. He looked a little like his brother, but was younger, wore glasses, had much more hair and was dressed casually, sweater and black corduroy trousers. He was fresh-faced and didn’t radiate the world-weary cynicism of his older brother. We shook hands and then both sat down.

  “Why do you need to see me? Gave me quite a shock when the head told me a police officer was coming here to talk to me.”

  He was well spoken and pronounced his words with great care. An essential part of his job, I assumed, if his tutees were not overly familiar with the English language.

  “Not just police, Special Branch.” I showed him ID. His eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “Oh dear, what have I done to deserve such a visit?” His voice had a slight edge to it.

  At that moment the secretary arrived with tea for Blatchford and me, served in chintzy china cups and saucers. I tried to conceal my disappointment at the absence of biscuits. I sipped my tea. It was good.

  “Is this to do with my being in Cambridge and what’s going on there?” He fixed me with a concerned, almost challenging stare.

  “We may get onto that. But, initially, I wanna ask you a few things about your brother. He’s running for Mayor, isn’t he?”

  He nodded his agreement. The thought seemed to amuse him. His face li
t up.

  “You find that amusing, eh?” I was curious.

  “Yeah. If you’re Special Branch, and you’re here for the reason I think you are, then yeah, it is amusing.” He stared at me for a long moment. “That is why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  I had no idea what that was but I agreed it was why I was here. Maybe I’d get lucky and learn something positive.

  “What can you tell me about it?” I asked neutrally.

  “Told him he’s mad to campaign for Mayor whilst the bank’s still looking into some of the deals he did a few years back, for one thing, but he thought he’d covered his tracks sufficiently well. That’s what I was told, though the fact you’re here means he obviously didn’t.” He sounded smug. “I heard a deal with them had been agreed as far as that goes and none of it would come out.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they told me.”

  “You’ve spoken to the bank?” He looked surprised.

  “Earlier today. Had a lengthy chat with his manager.

  “I see. So you know about Zealiac, then.” He sounded certain.

  “They mentioned it, yeah.” I didn’t say they’d just mentioned the name but had told me nothing about whatever the deal was. I was winging it.

  He put his tea on the desk.

  “What do you know about Zealiac?” I asked him.

  “James told me Zealiac was an Israeli business looking to get involved with a company in the UK. They were looking into an official partnership with a company called Ambersial: some kind of horizontal integration, I think, was the term he used. They came to his bank, which was receptive to what Zealiac wanted to do. It would have been a lucrative deal for them. James, though, didn’t want this to go ahead, and I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to get Zealiac to commit to a sizeable chunk of expenditure prior to the proposed merger, which he knew they couldn’t afford. He’d had access to all their accounts, you see, so he knew what their pressure points were. They ended up stuck in a kind of financial no-man’s land. Their bank refused them any more finance until they could show progress in the merger, but without this finance the merger couldn’t go ahead. Everything stalled. Ultimately, they had to pull out, and they took quite a bath as well,” he said emphatically. He picked up his tea and took a long swallow.