A Twist in the Tale (6 page)

“For this
reason I feel confident that you will find it in your hearts to release my
client from the torment he has been put through during the last seven months.
He has surely been shown to be an innocent man deserving of your compassion.”

Mr
Scott sank down on the bench having, I felt, given his
client a glimmer of hope.

The judge told
us that he would not begin his own summing-up until Monday morning.

The weekend
seemed interminable to me.

By Monday I had
convinced myself that enough members of the jury would feel there just had not
been sufficient evidence to convict.

As soon as the
trial was under way the judge began by explaining once again that it was the
jury alone who must make the ultimate decision. It was not his job to let them
know how he felt, but only to advise them on the law.

He went back
over all the evidence, trying to put it in perspective, but he never gave as
much as a hint as to his own opinions. When he had completed his summing-up
late that afternoon he sent the jury away to consider their verdict.

I waited with
nearly as much anxiety as
Menzies
must have done
while I listened to others giving their opinion as the minutes ticked by in
that little room. Then, four hours later, a note was sent up to the judge.

He immediately
asked the jury to return to their places while the press flooded back into the
court- room, making it look like the House of Commons on Budget Day. The clerk
dutifully handed up the note to
Mr
Justice Buchanan.
He opened it and read what only twelve other people in the courtroom could have
known.

He handed it
back to the clerk who then read the note to a silent court.

Mr
Justice Buchanan frowned before asking if there were any
chance of a unanimous verdict being reached if he allowed more time.

Once he had
learned that it was proving impossible he reluctantly nodded his agreement to a
majority verdict.

The jury
disappeared downstairs again to continue their deliberations, and did not
return to their places for another three hours. I could sense the tension in
the court as
neighbours
sought to give opinions to
each other in noisy whispers. The clerk called for silence as
thejudge
waited for everyone to settle before he instructed
the clerk to proceed.

When the clerk
rose, I could hear the person next to me breathing.

“Would the
Foreman please stand?”

I rose from my
place.

“Have you
reached a verdict on which at least ten of you are agreed?”

“We have, sir.”

“Do you find
the defendant, Paul
Menzies
, guilty or not guilty?”

“Guilty,” I
replied.

F
EW showed much interest when Ignatius
Agarbi
was appointed Nigeria’s Minister of Finance. After all, the cynics pointed out,
he was the seventeenth person to hold the office in seventeen years.

In Ignatius’s
first major policy statement to Parliament he promised to end graft and
cor-ruption
in public life and warned the elector-ate that
no one holding an official position could feel safe unless he led a blameless
life.

He ended his
maiden speech with the words, “I intend to clear out Nigeria’s Augean stables.”

Such was the
impact of the minister’s speech that it failed to get a mention in the Lagos
Daily Times. Perhaps the editor considered that, since the paper had covered
the speeches of the previous sixteen ministers in
extenso
,
his readers might feel they had heard it all before.

Ignatius, however,
was not to be dis-heartened by the lack of confidence shown in him, and set
about his new task with
vigour
and determination.
Within days of his appointment he had caused a minor official at the Ministry
of Trade to be jailed for falsify-
ing
documents
relating to the import of grain. The next to feel the bristles of Ignatius’s
new broom was a leading Le-
banese
financier, who was
deported without trial for breach of the exchange control regulations. A month
later came an event which even Ignatius considered a personal coup: the arrest
of the Inspector General of Police for accepting bribes – a perk the citizens
of Lagos had in the past considered went with
thejob
.
When four months later the Police Chief was sentenced to eighteen months in
jail, the new Finance Minister finally made the front page of the Lagos Daily
Times. A leader on the
centre
page dubbed him “Clean
Sweep Ignatius”, the new broom every guilty man feared. Ignatius’s reputation
as
Mr
Clean continued to grow as arrest followed
arrest and unfounded
rumours
began
circu-lating
in the capital that even General
Otobi
, the Head of State, was under investigation by his
own Finance Minister.

Ignatius alone
now checked, vetted and au-
thorised
all foreign
contracts worth over one hundred million dollars. And although every decision
he made was meticulously
scrutin-ized
by his enemies,
not a breath of scandal ever became associated with his name.

When Ignatius
began his second year of office as Minister of Finance even the cynics began to
acknowledge his achievements. It was about this time that General
Otobi
felt confident enough to call Ignatius in for an
unscheduled consultation.

The Head of
State welcomed the Minister to
Dodan
Barracks and
ushered him to a comfortable chair in his study overlooking the parade ground.

“Ignatius, I
have just finished going over the latest budget report and I am alarmed by your
conclusion that the Exchequer is still losing millions of dollars each year in
bribes paid to go-betweens by foreign companies.

Have you any
idea into whose pockets this money is falling? That’s what I want to know.”

Ignatius sat
bolt upright, his eyes never leaving the Head of State.

“I suspect a
great percentage of the money is ending up in private Swiss bank accounts but I
am at present unable to prove it.”

“Then I will
give you whatever added authority you require to do so,” said General
Otobi
. “You can use any means you consider necessary to
ferret out these villains. Start by investigating every member of my Cabinet,
past and present. And show no fear or
favour
in your
endeavours
, no matter what their rank or connections.”

“For such a
task to have any chance of success I would need a special letter of authority
signed by you, General . . .”

“Then it will
be on your desk by six o’clock this evening,” said the Head of State.

“And the rank of Ambassador
Plenipoten-tiary
whenever I travel abroad.”

“Granted.”

“Thank you,”
said Ignatius, rising from his chair on the assumption that the audience was
over.

“You may also
need this,” said the General as they walked towards the door. The Head of State
handed Ignatius a small automatic pistol. “Because I suspect by now that you
have almost as many enemies as I.”

Ignatius took
the pistol from the soldier awkwardly, put it in his pocket and mumbled his
thanks.

Without another
word passing between the two men Ignatius left his leader and was driven back
to his Ministry.

Without the
knowledge of the Governor of the Central Bank of Nigeria and unhindered by any
senior civil servants, Ignatius enthusiastically set about his new task. He
researched alone at night, and by day discussed his findings with no one. Three
months later he was ready to pounce.

The Minister
selected the month of August to make an unscheduled visit abroad as it was the
time when most Nigerians went on holiday and his absence would therefore not be
worthy of comment.

He asked his
Permanent Secretary to book him, his wife and their two children on a flight to
Orlando, and to be certain that it was charged to his personal account.

On their
arrival in Florida the family checked into the local Marriott Hotel. He then
informed his wife, without warning or explanation, that he would be spending a
few days in New York on business before rejoining them for the rest of the
holiday. The following morning Ignatius left his family to the mysteries of
Disney World while he took a flight to New York. It was a short taxi ride from
La Guardia to Kennedy, where, after a change of clothes and the purchase of a
return tourist ticket for cash, Ignatius boarded a Swissair flight for Geneva
unobserved.

Once in the
Swiss capital Ignatius booked into an inconspicuous hotel, retired to bed and
slept soundly for eight hours. Over breakfast the following morning he studied
the list of banks he had so carefully drawn up after completing his research in
Nigeria: each name was written out boldly in his own hand. Ignatius decided to
start with Gerber
et
Cie
whose building, he observed from the hotel bedroom, took up half the Avenue de
Parchine
. He checked the telephone number with the
concierge before placing a call. The chairman agreed to see him at twelve
o’clock.

Carrying only a
battered briefcase, Ignatius arrived at the bank a few minutes before the
appointed hour- an unusual occurrence for a Nigerian, thought the young man
dressed in a smart grey suit, white shirt and grey silk tie,
who
was waiting in the marble hall to greet him. He bowed to the Minister,
introducing himself as the chairman’s personal assistant, and explained that he
would accompany Ignatius to the chairman’s office.

The young
executive led the Minister to a waiting
lift
and
neither man uttered another word until they had reached the eleventh floor. A
gentle tap on the chairman’s door elicited
“
Entrez
,”
which the young man obeyed.

“The Nigerian Minister of Finance, sir.”

The chairman
rose from behind his desk and stepped forward to greet his guest. Ignatius
could not help noticing that he too wore a grey suit, white shirt and grey silk
tie.

“Good morning,
Minister,” the chairman said. “Won’t you have a seat?” He ushered Ignatius
towards a low glass table surrounded by comfortable chairs on the far side of
the room. “I have ordered coffee for both of us if that is acceptable.”

Ignatius
nodded, placed the battered briefcase on the floor by the side of his chair and
stared out of the large plate-glass window. He made some small
ltalk
about the splendid view of the magnificent fountain
while a girl served all three men with coffee.

Once the young
woman had left the room Ignatius got down to business.

“My Head of
State has requested that I visit your bank with a rather unusual request,” he
began. Not a flicker of surprise appeared on the face of the chairman or his
young assistant. “He has
honoured
me with the task of
discovering which Nigerian citizens hold numbered accounts with your bank.”

On learning
this piece of information only the chairman’s lips moved. “I am not at liberty
to disclose -”

“Allow me to
put my case,” said the Minister, raising a white palm. “First, let me assure
you that I come with the absolute authority of my government.” Without another
word, Ignatius extracted an envelope from his inside pocket with a flourish. He
handed it to the chairman who removed the letter inside and read it slowly.

Once he had
finished reading, the banker cleared his throat. “This document, I fear, sir,
carries no validity in my country.” He replaced it in the envelope and handed
it back to Ignatius. “I am, of course,” continued the chairman, “not for one
moment doubting that you have the full backing of your Head of State, both as a
Minister and an Ambassador, but that does not change the bank’s rule of
confidentiality in such matters. There are no circumstances in which we would
release the names of any of our account holders without their authority. I’m
sorry to be of so little help, but those are, and will always remain, the bank
rules.” The chairman rose to his feet, as he considered the meeting was now at
an end; but he had not bargained for Clean Sweep Ignatius.

“My Head of
State,” said Ignatius, softening his tone perceptibly, “has authorized me to
approach your bank to act as the
intermedi-ary
for
all future transactions between my country and Switzerland.”

“We are
flattered by your confidence in us, Minister,” replied the chairman, who
remained standing. “However, I feel sure that you will understand that it
cannot alter our attitude to our customers’ confidentiality.”

Ignatius
remained unperturbed.

“Then I am
sorry to inform you,
Mr
Gerber, that our Ambassador
in Geneva will be instructed to make an official communiqué to the Swiss
Foreign Office about the lack of co-operation your bank has shown concerning
requests for information about our nationals.” He waited for his words to sink
in. “You could avoid such embarrassment, of course, by simply letting me know
the names of my countrymen who hold accounts with Gerber
et
Cie
and the amounts involved. I can assure you we
would not reveal the source of our information.”

“You are most
welcome to lodge such a communiqué, sir, and I feel sure that our Minister will
explain to your Ambassador in the most courteous of diplomatic language that
the Foreign Ministry does not have the authority under Swiss law to demand such
disclosures.”