Whistle Blower (36 page)

IN ZURICH, TOM and Jan were at breakfast in the hotel.

As Tom filled a glass with orange juice and brought it back to their table, his mobile phone rang. It was Jim, first checking that Jan had now joined him and then with an update on his meeting with Scott Evora. But it was his next piece of information which caused Tom to look at Jan, nod his head and point to the phone he was holding. "A possible lead from Jonathan on Guido," he whispered across the table. Jim was still talking.

"It's come on a tortuous route from Sierra Leone," Jim was saying. "According to Cole Harding, the two Lebanese who ran Cherry Picking met Guido in Milan. He met them off a plane from Amsterdam some months ago, picked them up in a black Mercedes, whisked them off to a restaurant in the center of Milan and then dropped them at the Park Hyatt Hotel. Apparently Guido seemed well known at both the restaurant and the hotel. It's only a thought, Tom, but maybe you should both head on down to Milan once you've done all you can in Zurich."

Tom and Jan agreed but, for now, their plan was to look at Zurich companies using the name Freeway. Over fresh coffee, they sat with Jan's laptop. On the screen was a long, long list of companies with that name.

"Cut and pasted from publicly accessible sites," Jan said.

Tom looked. The list went on for pages and pages—innocuous sounding companies like Freeway Car Washing (Panama), Freeway Electronics SA (Spain), Freeway Pharmaceuticals PLC, Freeway Management Ltd. Then there were others: Market Freeway (Gibraltar), Express Freeway and, the longest name of all, Atlantic and Pacific Ocean Freeway Finance SA (Mexico).

"Daunting, huh?" Jan said. "But I've already put in hours of work on it on this laptop which, by the way, I don't keep at home but in a locker at the gym I use."

Tom looked at Jan and shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"I'm just being careful," Jan answered, still scrolling down. "It's a long list but we can dismiss over ninety-nine percent. I've marked the one percent in red. See? There's one interesting Freeway—the one Jim uncovered when looking at the video of my crime." Jan tried to laugh.

"The Puff and Slush money movement?" Tom asked.

"Correct. Using Puff and Slush I moved 150,000 Euros to a beneficiary called Acosta Freeway Investment Holdings. See it? There. Now, if we click on the internet link we can find more on Acosta. There. It's based in Panama and that figures because we've also got evidence that the money I moved went to Banco de Crédito de Milano in Panama and Jim has already asked Scott Evora if the FBI could check this out as well as a bank in Dubai. We're gathering evidence, Tom. We're doing OK."

He paused and scrolled down further as Tom watched. 

"But what I'm particularly interested in is this batch here—six companies calling themselves Freeway Consultants or variations on that name. And why? Because I am, once again, feeling guilty about using Guido's system—this time to replace Walton Associates with Freeway Consultants as the consultants on Jonathan's Sierra Leone bid."

"And Freeway Consultants are based in Zurich?" Tom asked, checking his understanding.

"Yes, or so the paperwork said. And, if my suspicions are correct, both Dirk Eischmann and Guido have links with Freeway Consultants Zurich. But no one has ever checked them out. I asked Katrine about it. You know what she said? Freeways were Swiss and they were 'prequalified.’

"That seemed to be enough as a measure of their legitimacy and ability to deliver. How they got prequalification status in the first place is unknown, but it automatically short cuts their approval rating and grants them legitimacy on the basis that they're seen as having performed OK in the past. The fact is the original paperwork was probably forged, but no one—at least no one with clean hands and a critical eye—has ever bothered to go to Zurich to check. But the name Freeway is well known to me and Katrine and others in the organization. Freeway Consultants often crop up in bids in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Somalia and elsewhere. I know because I checked. So let's make them our first target."

Tom interrupted. "But doesn't someone representing Freeway Consultants show his or her face from time to time? Surely a name is known to someone, somewhere. A figurehead to give it that continued legitimacy."

"I asked Katrine the same question. And yes, there is a sort of vetting team that grants prequalification certificates. When I mentioned this to Jim and offered some names, he recognized one. Did Jim ever tell you about meeting a Dutchman offering to guarantee successful bids from Jim's company in return for a commission?"

"Yes, and he also mentioned the tape recording. He was expecting to meet a guy called Philippe but another guy turned up."

"Yes. Philippe Eijsackers was the guy who we think failed to turn up. Instead, he sent a sidekick—perhaps so he himself could stay in the background and claim innocence if anything went wrong. At that time, Eijsackers was the head of the vetting team. He's now moved onwards and upwards into Environmental Policy, but Jim thinks he's still involved with Eischmann."

"So where do we start with Freeway Consultants?"

"With this one," Jan said, pointing at a company he'd highlighted in green.

"Why that one?"

"I dug out past correspondence and bid submissions. They all show the company registered in Luxemburg but with an address in Zurich. If we draw a blank with them, there are three others we can try with Zurich or Geneva connections."

"OK. So what about the other Freeway name we picked up—Freeways Freight Forwarding?"

"There we have a problem," Jan replied. "I found three possibilities—Freeways Freight Forwarding, Freeways Freight Forwarders and Freeway Shipping but there is nothing to connect them with Zurich or Milan."

"Mmm," Tom mumbled and sat back. "A pity…but where did we get the name Freeways Freight Forwarding from?"

"Sierra Leone…from Jonathan via Cole Harding again…it was just a name."

"Then let's see if Cole Harding can find out some more. I'll phone Jonathan to ask him. Meanwhile let's go in search of Freeway Consultants."

"Seeing a name plate on an office block in a side street will mean nothing, Tom."

"Yes, I know. So we need a devilish plan and I thought of one on the plane down here. Do you have a copy of one of the letters from Freeway Consultants?"

"Yes."

"Who signed it?"

"It's an electronic signature and says Richard Muller—it means nothing. I checked." 

"Then there's no harm in trying a bit of Irish skulduggery, subterfuge and jiggery-pokery?"

"What the hell's that?"

"It's how I could and should have been the biggest and shittiest investigative reporter in London. I'll be Richard Muller and you can be the finance director."

EARLY MORNING IN Milan and Guido was again pacing around the warehouse, this time in a pair of red socks but with the phone, as always, tucked inside the fold of his chin.

It was a cold and foggy morning in Milan but sweat drops had formed on his brow. He pushed strands of straight, black hair that had fallen over his forehead back into place.

"I am not panicking, Toni. Do not say that. But we need a plan. Mr. E is very mad. His angry voice yesterday—oh
mio dio
—I dreamed about it last night. It is that asshole, that bastard, that
faccia di merda
. I hate him, Toni. I never liked him. He has a
comportomento sospetto
. I told Mr. E he was a suspicious son of a bitch. But what can we do? Mr. E thinks he is hiding somewhere, maybe to tell stories…yah, what is it?…OK, OK, I am talking about that fucking Dutch bastard Kerkman, Toni. Who the hell else?…Yah, that's him. I trained him on Puff and Slush and he has run away. Yah—run away, gone…I do not know where."

Guido scuffed his way around the office, kicking at a screwed up scrap of paper that had missed the trash bin.  

"My dream of Mr. E was a nightmare, Toni. This Kerkman came to the warehouse and he shot me, Toni. Shot me with a gun. But it is impossible. No one knows about us, Toni. It is Mr. E who is nervous. But Mr. E needs a plan to find him…yah, yah, find Kerkman, not Eischmann…I am not nervous, Toni. But what can we do?"

Guido was starting to panic. 

MID MORNING IN England and Cole Harding's phone call to Jonathan provided another lead.

"Freeways Freight Forwarding, Jonathan."

"Yes, did you speak to Sierra Leone?"

"Not just Sierra Leone. I also spoke to Schools Aid Africa, an English charity that renovates old laptop computers and sends them to Africa. In Sierra Leone their contact is an organization called
Daisy Children's Charity,
but things get stolen and taken to Liberia and Nigeria. The shipper that Schools Aid are told to use is Freeways Freight Forwarding, Milan. So I'm faxing you a copy of shipping documents for you to check details.”

Jonathan scanned the fax, emailed it to Jim and Jan and then went straight to his car.

His next appointment was with the Financial Investigation Bureau. The FIB, a specialized office within the International Chamber of Commerce Crime Service
, conducts enquiries and investigations into matters associated with money laundering, fraud and suspect documents. Walton Associates, at Jim's suggestion, had become a member. Membership meant joining a club of international banks, financial institutions, National Financial Intelligence Units, regulatory bodies and, most importantly, law enforcement agencies.

As Jim had said weeks before, the FIB had status. It listened. And the FIB talked to the UK Government, the Home Office and could call on bodies like Interpol. And being a commercial body, it especially liked listening to suggestions of fraud and corruption within government circles.   

That meeting over and Jonathan immediately phoned Jim from his car with an update.

"They listened, Jim, and I've still not mentioned names. It was just me providing evidence of tampering with bids, throwing in a few examples and saying I can't divulge much more due to the risks posed for a whistleblower. Cole Harding had given me permission to mention his involvement with us and that went down very well as Cole was known to them from past fraud cases. At the end I said I needed guarantees of total confidentiality before going further and they want to meet again. But the dots are starting to join up, Jim. Do you want to tell Scott Evora or shall I?"

"You do it, Jonathan. And, while you're at it, tell him to hurry up dealing with the list of names I gave him."

THE COPY OF the letter from Freeway Consultants showed their office on
Bahnhofplatz an
easy walking distance from Tom and Jan's hotel on Zahringerstrasse in Zurich Old Town.

A quick internet check also showed it being promoted as
a "most prestigious business address in the heart of the central business area." Most importantly, there was a phone number for anyone wishing to rent space. Tom made the call.

"Ah, yes, my name is
Richard Muller. My company Freeway Consultants rent office space at
Bahnhofplatz…"

"Ah yes, Mr. Muller. Freeway Consultants, of course. How are you? Is everything to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, good, thank you. So good, in fact, we are looking to rent more space."

"Ah. We have some offices still available. You will be familiar with the facilities— meeting and interview rooms, the business lounge, the video-conferencing suite, the high-speed internet, all supported by our multilingual team of on-site professionals…"

"Yes, thank you. Could we call to have another look?"

"Are you in Zurich?"

"Yes, we could be there in ten minutes. Is someone available to show us?"

"Of course. Shall we say midday? Do you have the entry security codes?"

"No, sorry, they're with my staff in Holland."

"No problem, someone will meet you outside."

It was now midday and as Tom and Jan stood on the pavement outside, the glass door opened and a young woman wearing a gray suit and with blonde hair came out. Jan immediately thought of Katrine.

"Mr. Muller? My name is Sophie. You speak English or German?"

"English would be fine," said Tom trying to conceal his Irish accent. "This is John Gardener from our Dutch office." They shook hands.

"I think you already rent an office here?"

"Yes, Freeway Consultants."

"Ah yes, on the second floor," she said and led the way to a lift. No one spoke as the lift ascended. When the door slid open they walked out onto a carpeted corridor. "Do you have access to our current office?" asked Tom.

"Yes, it is an emergency code only but we can go in."

On the door outside it said Freeway Consultants S.A. but, as expected, it was empty inside except for a desk, two chairs and a small table.

"But it's empty," Tom said with forced surprise. "Where are the computers, the filing cabinets?" He started opening the drawers of the desk.   

Sophie stared at them both. "But we have never seen anyone here."

"Then we need to report this," Tom said, "Our work is confidential. There were sensitive files here. Who is in charge of security?"

Sophie looked shocked. "It is the management company—Commercial Office Services—the company you spoke to earlier."

Tom took out his mobile phone. Jan and Sophie watched.

"Yes," he said. "It's Richard Muller again. I am now in the office at Bahnhofplatz. There has clearly been a security failure here. The office is empty—no computers, no files, nothing. "

The voice on the other end was clearly apologetic.

"Yes, I am also sorry," Tom said. "My staff only worked from here for short periods—perhaps for two weeks or so—before returning to our Dutch office, but we have had no one here for two months. We've had a few issues with our local partners. Can you say if the rent has been paid?…Yes, please check before I make other enquiries."

Tom waited, staring out of the window onto the street below. Jan sat in the chair looking and smiling at Sophie. Sophie looked down at her shoes then up at Jan. Then:

"Good. Well that's a relief. Can you tell me which of the companies paid the rent?…Freeway Consultants? Yes, of course, that's us. From which account was it paid?… Milan, you say?"

Tom, still looking out of the window, was thinking quickly.

"Would that be our
Banco de Crédito de Milano account? Yes. That bank is not in Milan, Italy, it is our Panama account but are there any more details on the bank transfer—the payee's name, perhaps?… P.U Eischmann… Yes, that's OK. I understand now."

Tom turned, looked at Jan, then at Sophie. He was still holding the phone so that the person on the other end could hear. "Well, that's a relief," he said. "Mr. Eischmann has been paying, but I'm still worried about our computers and files."

He turned back to the phone and continued. "Who am I talking to?…Olga. Listen, Olga, could you check something else for me? The rental agreement with Freeway. Who signed it? Was it our Milan office?…Thank you, yes, of course, I'll wait."

Tom glanced at Jan. Jan was stroking his chin and smiling at Sophie who still reminded him of Katrine.

Tom again: "Yes, that would be it…Antonia Goretti…Antonia—yes, we call her Toni. And the address?…Yes, thank you, Olga. That's very helpful… No, no, there is no need to call the police. Everything is fine. Goodbye"

Tom switched off the phone, glanced at Jan and then at Sophie. "I'm sorry, Sophie, but I don't think we'll need a new office now. One will be enough."

Three minutes later, as Tom and Jan began the walk along Bahnoffstrasse towards their hotel, Jan grabbed Tom's coat sleeve. "So, are you going to tell me the address?"

"Via Como, Civesio," Tom said, smiling. "Milan. Did you like my English accent, Jan?"

"Very good. Do you think that's Guido's address?"

"Well, I don't know, but it's another lead don't you think?"

"And do you think we've now got a real name for Toni?"

"Well," Tom said, resuming his English accent. "If not it's a jolly fine coincidence. Let's report this to Jim and then head on down to Milan."