Chapter Eighty-Four
… If they were accusing you of money laundering, or using it as a cover for pushing drugs or arms, yes, I’d get it…”
She huffs. “… Not that that’s likely. But tax evasion? You would legally marry a woman, who’d then be in a position to go for divorce and claim half of what you have because she’s got a piece of paper saying she’s your wife? I don’t think you’re that stupid. You wouldn’t be where you are if you were.”
Unblinking, my Master stares at her. Abruptly, Claudia dries up, her laughter dissolving. She sits back against her chair. “Um… Meaning no offence, sir.”
The stare continues, wheels turning behind his eyes, then he breaks into a beaming smile. “Claudia, you’re quite right.” He scrapes a hand through his hair. “Sometimes you can be too close to a problem. I didn’t see the wood for the trees.”
He paces a small circle, palming the back of his neck. Then, he repeats. “You’re one hundred percent correct. And anyone that has anything official to do with me knows that. Or personal for that matter. Including Barclay. So, what has kicked this off?”
Ross re-emerges, topping up my wineglass. “Low-hanging fruit?” he murmurs.
My Master overhears him. “Yes, but who suggested the fruit was hanging low? I’ve never been investigated by the tax authorities previously. Or if I have, nothing came of it. I never heard of it. Something must have started this.”
“Who suggested it to Barclay?” I say. “Where did he get it from?”
Pondering, he slices off a sliver of cheese, chewing slowly. “So far as I’m aware, direct from Vandervoort, but I didn’t think to ask. I will.”
Claudia shakes her head. “Gotta say, it’s been an education. Whatever happened here, it’s a scandal. All aside from your involvement in this, my friends, the fact that it could happen to anyone at all is a complete disgrace. Supposedly you’re innocent unless proven guilty. Shouldn’t they at least follow the same rule as the police and give people chance to have a lawyer with them?”
“Couldn’t agree more.” He slides the cheese plate toward her. “Try some of the Roquefort. It’s very good.”
*****
All goes quiet and after several days, we have heard no more.
It seems that Adrian Barclay has gotten the message to conduct any Revenue investigation he still thinks appropriate through conventional channels. My Master is clearly unconcerned by that prospect, shrugging it off. “They can inspect any time they want. I have an entire department for the task. Douglas can handle it. It’s what I pay him for.”
In fact, I find I simply want to put the whole nasty episode behind us. I’m tired…
Time to move on…
Time to do something useful…
Perhaps Chancellor Wilmore has something for me?
But as I pick up my phone to call him, my screen flashes. Claudia’s avatar. Her voice brims with enthusiasm. “Beth, can you spare me some time? Later today would be ideal. If Richard could be there too, that would be even better.”
“Claudia, is this for another interview? I’m sorry, but I’m really not feeling up to it right now…”
“No, you misunderstand, Beth. I’ve got something for you. And I guarantee you’re going to want to hear me out.” She’s excited but there’s… something else… lurking in her words.
Anger?
“Alright. See you after lunch? Say two o’clock?”
“I’ll be there.”
My Master glances up from his paper. “What was that about?”
“Not sure.” I snap my phone closed.
*****
Claudia arrives, and her excitement has moved from brimming to overflowing. For myself, excitement is hard to raise.
“After what you told me the other day,” she says, “I did a bit of follow-up research. Actually, quite a lot.”
My Master maintains a neutral expression. “What kind of research?”
“Well, the first part was to find out if the Revenue has the legal right to waylay you in the way they did. I mean, it’s one thing to check up against tax fraud. It’s another entirely to simply ambush someone in their own home.”
“I’ve already had lawyers on that,” he says. “The answer is no. Barclay is full of apologies and promises there’ll be no repeat of events. Although…” He inhales… “… he’s not really explained anything.”
Claudia’s taking notes and folders from her bag, laying them out in careful order on the tabletop. “I’m sure that’s the case. As department head, Barclay’s supposedly in charge. Whatever fallout results from what happened, he’s left with egg on his face. Big time. Anyway…”
She plucks out a folder, flipping it open… “… the first thing I did was look to see if I could find any previous occurrences of this sort of thing.” She pauses, seemingly choosing her words. “Not just swoop investigations. That’s common enough if the authorities have good reason to suspect wrongdoing and need to catch the culprits unawares. But drop-down inspections with the kind of unsavoury personal edge they subjected you both to. ”
“And?”
“I drew a blank at first. But then, you mentioned that Pensby and his side-kick were brought in from a different department, so I widened my search. Instead of just searching for Revenue investigations, I looked for official inspections and raids of all kinds. And then I got a hit. Interviews…” Grimacing, she holds up paired fingers, making air commas. “… of the sort you experienced, are almost standard procedure in another section. Immigration. For investigators in that department, inquiries into scam marriages, well, it’s almost a starting point for them.”
I jolt. “Routine? Seriously?”
“Seriously. Because it’s such a common method of obtaining entry to the country. And if they’re checking up on suspected fake marriages, where one partner’s reliant on marriage to the other, what they can ask is breathtaking. Here, take a look at this.” Plucking a sheet from one of her folders, she hands it to me, a screen dump from some website.
I scan the first paragraph or two. A list of questions for potential interviewees to prepare for when called for interview by investigating immigration officers…
It sounds innocuous enough…
But then, I read the detail…
… And slap a hand over my mouth
Holy crap…
There has to be above two hundred questions. Granted, not all are so deeply personal as what I was asked. Nonetheless, the degree of intrusion…
I sit, shaking my head over the print-out. “This is awful.” As my Master silently extends a hand, I pass it across for him to read for himself.
“Isn’t it,” says Claudia. “The questions you and Richard had thrown at you are not uncommon. The department’s seriously heavy-handed. They’ve been known to execute dawn raids on homes to find out if a couple under suspicion were in bed together. And they don’t need much more than suspicion to do it. There’s not the protections in place that there would be for say, a police raid, where they have to have a solid reason for suspicion, hard proof, a warrant.”
“And that’s legal?”
Claudia clucks, rocking her hand. “Maybe. One couple were told their marriage was assessed as fake because, when their house was invaded, at silly-o-clock in the morning, they were found wearing pyjamas. Supposedly, there are guidelines regarding how the interviews are conducted. However, said guidelines are internal documents, and the department won’t release them. And that’s despite several court orders to do so. Certainly, I got the cold shoulder when I called, asking for details.”
My head churns. “So, when Pensby told me it was standard procedure to ask similar questions of the husband and wife, then compare answers, he was telling the truth?”
“In the case of Immigration, yes. However…” She raises a forefinger. “… while what happened to you might be quasi-legal in Immigration, it doesn’t apply to Revenue. You should have been advised there would be an interview and invited to have your accountant, your lawyer or your other chosen representative present if you wanted.”
My Master sets down the list of questions without comment, but then, “So, you believe the Revenue Section has switched tactics?”
“No, not as such…” She rocks a hand. “… And certainly not as a matter of policy. You said the Head of Revenue… Barclay is it?… claimed not to know how it had happened?”
He nods. “That’s right. And I’m leaning toward believing him. ”
“I get that. Anyway, long story short, I followed up on Pensby and Thurston. I have friends who work in City Hall and they checked the new appointments for me. Guess where they worked before?”
He cants his head. “You’re going to tell me it was Immigration?”
Claudia clicks her tongue. “Got it in one.”
“Why would the Revenue bring in people from Immigration?” I ask. “I get the idea of bringing in fresh faces, but surely they’d want accountants as investigators? Forensic accountants at that.”