Whistle Blower (11 page)

"So, when I started asking myself why we were suddenly losing contracts when we knew all along that we were almost uniquely placed, Dirk Eischman's name cropped up. Let's not say how I knew this for certain now but someone was instrumental in changing technical specifications and a bundle of other conditions that were almost impossible for any business to match. As you know, Jan, it's all done by committee—committees of gray people who know nothing about the technology or the business but are influenced by politicians with their own agendas, by outside lobbying or by other factors.

"Let's be frank. Money talks. Small businesses that do not have resources or influence are deliberately put at a disadvantage—even put out of business—by big corporations with money to buy the influence and the contacts. It's all denied of course and denying is easy because proof is impossible to gather. It's like a big club. The way politicians and bureaucrats move up the ladder is done in exactly the same way—and it starts with parents, upbringing, schooling, wealth. Even those who fight to get somewhere from a so-called working class background without the silver spoon in their mouths at birth are often spoiled by money and status later—again we can name names—at least, I could."

Jim knew he was already on a roll on a completely different subject now. It was what had got him into trouble before. He took a breath, forced himself back to the subject.

"But, returning to my experience. Instead of Smith Technology winning the contracts as we hoped, unknown start-up companies—and one in particular—started getting the business. Sometimes they still came to us to buy equipment because it wasn't available from anywhere else, but what they bought was just a small fraction of what we would have supplied if we had the contract. So where did the rest of the funding go—the money that was supposed to be for more equipment, training, technical help and so on? That is still the great mystery."

"You reckon he's our man, Jim?" said Jonathan.

"I suspect he is one of them," said Jim. "There are others, but he's been at it for seven years. That's time enough to secure his position and build the security bubble around him. It's probably in several people's interests to keep him there—at the top of the tree. But then, I have a suspicious nature."

JAN HAD GROWN to like Katrine Nielsen, Eischmann's assistant, and he was well aware that the feeling was mutual.

They had met socially with other work colleagues around, but soon it became just the two of them, first for a glass of wine after work, then for dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Their third date was Katrine's invitation to Jan to join her at a film club she belonged to. Perhaps she had planned it, perhaps not, but the film was the 1987 classic
Wall Street
, starring Michael Douglas as Gordon Gekko, an unscrupulous corporate raider.

Afterwards, they walked to a noisy, Brussels bar and Jan found himself putting his arm around her shoulders. She had looked up at him in a way he recognized as encouraging, but it was a Friday night, the bar was busy and crowded. Katrine was a career girl at heart—ambitious, work-orientated, serious. They moved out, found a quieter tapas bar and the discussion got far more interesting. Katrine was Danish and they spoke in English. Triggered by the film they had just watched, their shouted discussion in the first bar had been about corporate fraud and why the film had encouraged a lot of young, American graduates to go into banking, financial services and big business. In the quieter tapas bar, it turned back to work.

Jan was ordering wine at the bar and, while he waited, glanced over to where Katrine was sitting at their corner table. Her short blonde hair was covering her face but he could see she was checking something on her phone. He took the two glasses over and sat down.

"We've now got six bids to assess on Monday," Katrine said, still playing with her phone. If Jan had thought this was going to turn into a romantic evening ending back at his apartment, then it was quite clear he needed to alter his plans or, at least, take things via a different route. "Seven if we include the Bangladesh one," Katrine went on, sipping at her wine without a thank you or even looking up.

"Can't get away from the office even on a Friday night, Kat?" Jan said. He was now calling her Kat as he'd heard some of her other friends do.

"Dirk Eischmann," Katrine said. "He takes it home at weekends and expects everyone else to as well."

"That was Eischmann?"

"Sure. He wanted me to remind him of the value of the bid from Bangladesh that he now wants added to the agenda on Monday."

"And how much is it?"

"Over three and a half million Euros."

"Why's he so interested?"

"Hmm," Katrine said, still looking at her phone.

"What do you mean, hmm?"

"Probably someone in Dacca is lobbying him for a favorable decision."

"Not allowed, that sort of thing, is it?"

"Of course not."

"So why?"

Katrine shrugged, slipped the phone back into her small handbag but said nothing. Instead she took another mouthful of wine and picked at a dish of olives.

"Come on, Kat. Why phone you on a Friday night about something that could wait until Monday? What is it about this guy?" Katrine looked away, sniffed and then sighed, audibly. Still she said nothing. "What is it Kat?"

"Sorry, I think I need to go now."

"Why, we've only just got here. What's up with this guy? He upsets you, I can see that. You've told me before you want a move. What's going on?"

The corner of the bar where they were sitting was dimly lit but it was bright enough for Jan to see that Katrine's eyes were watering. She was still holding her wine glass as she looked away, sniffed again, picked a tissue from the table, wiped her nose and then her eyes. Jan's protective instincts took over. He touched the hand that was still holding the glass of wine. ""What's going on, Kat?"

Katrine took a deep breath and wiped her eyes once again but she didn't move the hand he was holding. "I don't know what to say, Jan, but you know I'm looking for a new job right now."

"Why, Kat? You've got a good job. And if it's Eischmann that troubles you, he can't last forever."

Katrine looked up, the tears disappearing as quickly as they came, but she still didn't move the hand that Jan was holding, tighter now. "Of course, he'll be around," she said. "He likes the job and he feels secure."

"No one is secure."

"Hmm. Eischmann is. Eischmann is secure because Dirk Eischmann has friends…I shouldn't say it, but it's true. You need to realize how things operate here, Jan. Friends get elected. No one gets voted in or voted out anymore. It keeps the status quo. Competence is old fashioned. A total incompetent can get a job and then stay in it if they've got enough friends. It's networking. It's rubbing shoulders as the Brits say. Dirk Eischmann rubs shoulders. Dirk Eischmann has good friends and Dirk Eischmann may get lobbied by others, but Dirk Eischmann is the biggest lobbyist of all."

Katrine pulled her hand away, the one that Jan had been holding. "I need to go, Jan. Sorry for spoiling the evening but I've had a tough week and tonight's text from that shit arse has ruined my weekend again. Sorry, but even my language is not good tonight."

Jan had no wish to lose this opportunity, in more ways than one. He liked Katrine enough to have taken things a lot further tonight, but the personal challenge he had agreed to with Jim and Jonathan was just as strong.

"Listen, Katrine. Please don't go. I've always believed that if something is wrong then you should stay and fight, not run away." He paused briefly, unsure how to continue. "I met someone once who publicly accused Eischmann of fraud and taking bribes," he said, eyeing Katrine. "It was denied of course, but you know Eischmann well enough. Could he be taking bribes, earning commissions or something?"

It was a risk to ask Eischmann's personal assistant, but after weeks of slow, plodding progress, Jan was desperate to move things quicker now and Katrine seemed, by far, the best route. He saw Katrine shrug. "Yes, I remember that—he was a British politician."

"There seemed to be some strong evidence at the time, but Eischmann is still there. You yourself said he has powerful friends, he rubs shoulders with people, he has money, contacts and he travels a lot and you told me once he visited Italy a lot—Milan I think you told me—not that that may be relevant."

"Exactly—it proves nothing."

"No, but…" Jan paused. Something was building inside him and it needed to come out. "Listen. I hate people like Eischmann, Kat. How can you work with that fucking slob? His type are just selfish, money-grabbing, status-chasing bastards with no thought for the poor people out there who pay their fucking big salaries and pensions—and yet they tout their compassionate, socialist messages all the time. Wasn't Eischmann a green politician once, Kat? Didn't he suddenly change his politics and become a share-holding, fee-earning, money-grabbing capitalist?" He paused again. "Sorry, Kat. You've got me using bad language now."

Katrine smiled and grabbed Jan's hands that had been thumping the table. "No need to apologize, Jan. Nice to hear you talk honesty. Inside that concrete block over there we are surrounded by fear. Fear to talk, fear to step out of line, fear to criticize, fear to argue, fear of losing our jobs—we're so afraid that we even read messages on our mobile phones on a Friday night knowing full well it's going to spoil our weekends."

"I'm not afraid, Kat. I wouldn't even be afraid to break ranks and go public sometime. I wouldn't hesitate to be a mole—listen, watch, learn what goes on and then… But I need to get more involved. I'd love your job, Kat, but I'd prefer you stay at it and don't give up. Help get me a role on one of the main steering groups or something. And I want to chat to Eischmann—privately—soon."

Jan achieved two objectives in quick succession that night and the following Saturday morning. First—Katrine stayed overnight at his apartment. Second—over breakfast on Saturday morning, Katrine said she would fix it for Jan to meet Dirk Eischmann for a private meeting to discuss a possible job move within the department.

Achieving the third objective began at 9:30 a.m. on Monday morning as Katrine sat alongside Dirk Eichmann preparing papers and waiting to start the first meeting of the week. Eichmann was, as usual, getting impatient, looking at his watch.

"We'll be without Alicia this morning, Mr. Eichmann," Katrine announced. "Don't forget she moved to Energy Policy last week. It'll leave a gap on the Steering Group."

"Alicia? Alicia? Remind me."

"She normally comes with Pierre. They work in the same office. Alicia Ferrera? Blonde?"

"Oh yes."

"We'll need to replace her quickly with the new allocation of funds and the fresh bids coming in. It's a busy time coming up." 

"Anyone in mind?" Eischmann was not showing much interest in the subject of staff but turning over the pages of the Bangladesh flood defences bid.

"Jan Kerkman," Katrine suggested. "He'd be good. You've seen him in action on the Africa group. Outspoken, full of fresh ideas, critical but constructive…" she paused. "A bit impatient and ambitious but he's learned a lot very quickly."

She glanced at Eischmann out of the corner of her eye. He had stopped turning pages for a moment, listening. "I spoke to him last week," she went on. "He was ready to put an application in there and then but I told him things didn't work like that. There was a process we needed to follow. But he was so keen he was ready to phone you direct. His weakness is he's impatient. He tries cutting too many corners."

"What's his background?"

"He planned to be a stock broker but was made redundant in the financial crisis. He then did a postgraduate course in England. He joined us here as a stop gap and he's still here. It's all in the HR files. But he's very good on IT and finance and we need someone with an eye for discrepancies."

Eischmann continued to flick through the pages of the bid that appeared to interest him more than the others.

"Would you like a chat with him or shall I approach him myself?" she asked, fully aware that what she was suggesting was against procedure. It didn't bother Eischmann.

"I'll chat to him. Get him to call me at 4:00 p.m. I've got a meeting at six out of town." 

Katrine's short, verbal,
curriculum vitae
was accurate as far as it went. Jan's father had been a broker in Amsterdam and his postgraduate degree had been in Corporate and International Finance at Durham University in England. Jan and Katrine had agreed he could probably tie Eischmann up into knots with financial jargon once he got talking. And so he did.

At 4:00 p.m. he was invited to Eischmann's plush corner office and found the DG sitting at his desk in his shirtsleeves, the suit jacket hanging next to a potted fern in the far corner. He did not get up or shake hands, but beckoned Jan to sit in the chair across his desk. "So, Mr. Kerkman, you want to progress your career?" He paused, still not looking up. "Why?"

It did not take Jan long to get going, deliberately appearing brash and over-confident, an impatient guy, cynical and critical of the system. He had no worries if he came over as rude or harsh. If Eischmann didn't like it, so be it. But he was sure Eischmann would listen, maybe even take a liking to him.

Eischmann, the wide-framed spectacles on the end of his nose, was still not looking at him but reading something on his desk, but he was listening, taking it all in as Jan went on:

"Sorry to say, Mr. Eischmann, but in my opinion the whole systems need tightening up. That's my view anyway. I've looked at some of the procedures and the accountability processes and I see gaps, especially on Economic Development Aid. I'd love to help out. I just wish we all worked on a commission basis here…just like my old career, hah…I reckon I could save the business a fortune in lost revenue and… sorry, sir, I didn't mean business as such but you get my point. But it's like a business, isn't it? And there has to be better accountability, otherwise it's more like a game of monopoly using tax payers’ money…" 

And so he went on as Eischmann stopped reading and swivelled around in his high-backed chair, facing one of the two wide windows overlooking the boulevard. Jan was still talking, seeing the back of Eischmann's sun-reddened bald head and watching the flash of gold from the cuff links on the long sleeves of his crisp white shirt.

"You're out of place here, Mr. Kerkman," he said in his Austrian German accent. "You're wasted. Anyone who suggests being paid on a commission-only basis for saving money or spending it more efficiently has got the right approach, but the system won't allow it, you see. You should be in business."

"But I'm sure I'm not the only one willing to work on a commission-only basis, Mr. Eischmann," Jan continued. "Save a million, earn half of one percent. Stop a million draining out of the system, earn another half of one percent. I always liked incentives." He laughed as if he might just be joking but continued. "Find a way to stop funds being wasted or getting into the hands of fraudsters, earn another half of one percent. I'd be a millionaire in a year. As my father used to say, life's too short. You got to make it while you can."

Jan laughed again, deliberately looked at Eischmann as if he might not be joking, but he knew full well that Eischmann was no fool. There was no way the bureaucratic system could ever allow anyone to work on a commission basis. Salaried, pensionable posts were the only way. But that wasn't the point of Jan's humor and by 5:30 p.m., Jan knew Eischmann was listening and thinking.