CHAPTER NINETEEN
The group of Council members and top officers met for the third time on Friday morning, the day after Winner's trip to Petermere.
"I'm sorry we've had to miss a couple of days," said Forbes. "We got rather bogged down at our last meeting, so I hope we'll be able to concentrate on the budget and wrap it up this morning."
Too right, thought Winner, who had sat through lengthy interruptions for political point scoring, mostly for the superstore and the theatre complex. There was still the Recreation Committee budget to deal with, but the reductions so far only added up to three hundred thousand pounds. If there were no more major savings in the main budget, it would inevitably come down to staff cuts.
The group plodded slowly through the Recreation budget, shaving off a thousand or two on each page. It was almost inevitable that there would be further interruptions when they reached the page dealing with the entertainments figures.
"I really think we ought to put in some sort of contingency plans for the new theatre," said Avery.
"We'll have to deal with that in our main contingency budget," Westerman told him. "It wouldn't be appropriate to put it in the budget book until it's fully approved by committee."
"You're wasting your time, Avery," said Cavendish. "This Council just doesn't have enough money for a theatre at the moment and you know it."
"Enough," said Forbes, uncharacteristically raising his voice. "We're all aware that the theatre development is uncertain. Let's move on from this page or we'll not get to the important decisions."
Westerman started onto the next page, but Winner's mind was stuck on what Cavendish had said. You're wasting your time. Where had he heard that said? And why was it important?
"Perhaps Mr Winner could tell us when the loan charges on the bandstand will be paid off?" asked Mrs Morris.
Winner's attention to the meeting was jerked back by the mention of his name. He flicked through his file. "In the way we have always done things for years, Councillor, the debt would be paid off in two more years, but this is the last year we'll be showing debt charges in the committee estimates. New Government regulations mean that we are obliged to pool all our debts and then redeem a fixed percentage of the total each year. I don't know if Mr Westerman would want to say any more on this subject?"
"Mr Winner is quite correct," said the Treasurer. "The Government wants to facilitate easy comparison of services from different local authorities, by excluding loan charges which result from historical financing decisions. Of course, there are so many other local differences that it won't really help, but when the law says we must do something, then we are obliged to comply. What it does mean is that the Council's debt will be one big figure that's easy to pick out in the budget book."
Winner sank back into his chair, with half his mind following the meeting. He just couldn't put a finger on what he was trying to remember. His thoughts drifted off towards Sally and their plans for the weekend. That was it. Sally and the tape cassette. That was where he had heard it. You're wasting your time. Could it be Cavendish on the tape? Winner's attention was full on the meeting now, but Cavendish was saying nothing as Forbes summarised their progress so far.
"These last two pages are very small items," said the Chief Executive. "We're not going to make any more savings. What's the running total so far, David?"
Winner mentally added the last cutback of two thousand pounds to his previous calculation.
"Three hundred and eighty two thousand pounds," said Winner, "which leaves a shortfall of about four hundred and twenty thousand."
"Unless any of you has a worthwhile suggestion to the contrary," Forbes continued, "it looks as if that four hundred and twenty thousand will have to come from staff cuts. Mr Winner has prepared some schedules for the departmental managers and I'm going to have to ask them to come to us with definite plans of how they intend to achieve the savings. By my calculation we'll be looking for about an eight percent cutback in all areas."
"Will that include the Direct Services Organisation?" asked Avery.
Speak, damn you, thought Winner, staring across at the side of Cavendish's head.
"David?" asked Forbes.
"Oh yes, or rather, not exactly. The DSO accounts don't feature in this draft budget. They balance their books by the earnings they get from the maintenance items that are included in the budget. Since you've cut those maintenance budgets by over two hundred thousand pounds, that will reduce their earnings, so they'll have to make cuts, but only the DSO manager will be able to say by how much."
The meeting drew to a close, but to Winner's irritation, Cavendish didn't say another word. He thought of trying to start a conversation with him on the way out, but the lack of anything convincing to talk about would have made it look contrived.
Just as Winner got back into his office, the fire bells went off. There was a groan from the staff in the main office, who had experienced twenty times more fire drills than actual fires. They put down what they were doing and started filing out of the door. Winner made sure that the office was clear and then almost as an afterthought grabbed his sandwiches and overcoat, just in case it really was a fire.
The Council staff were assembling on the broad pavement that lay on the far side of the road, with section heads checking that everyone was present. A fire engine siren could be heard in the distance, gradually getting closer. Sally and Vaughan were standing next to Winner.
"Do you think it's a real fire?" Vaughan asked.
"I hadn't heard about a drill," said Winner. "They usually wait for good weather for a practise. It's a bit cloudy and cold today"
"Isn't that smoke coming up from behind the building?" asked Sally.
"You're right, it is," said Winner. "Wait a minute, my car's round the back."
"Too far over," said Vaughan. "What happened in the Chief Exec's office?"
"Absolutely top secret, Peter. Can't say a word about it, so I mustn't tell you that all departments will be looking for an eight percent staff cut. I should think staff in audit and accountancy ought to be safe if we can work out a way to leave Nigel's post un-filled."
The Fire Brigade must have been notified of the exact location of the fire, because the first tender went straight round into the side lane.
"Someone says it's the Personnel section," Sally told them. "They say a laser printer burst into flames."
It was only about fifteen minutes before they were allowed back in the building, though the shopkeepers near the Town Hall would have liked it to have been longer, as they had experienced a sudden boost in trade from staff members who had come out without coats. Back in the office the rumour about the Personnel section printer was confirmed before long and the excitement among staff who had secretly wished for an all-engulfing conflagration soon settled down. Winner thought it might be diplomatic to leave his next visit to the Personnel offices until after the weekend.
The rest of the morning was taken up with delivering staffing schedules to the various Chief Officers, so it wasn't until the afternoon that Winner could think about the next steps to take in their attempt to unravel the blackmail mystery. He called Sally into his office at about three o'clock.
"I've got an idea of how we can tackle this," he told her. "I'll tell you all about it this evening, but what we have to do is take home all the Council minutes and annual reports for the last few years and trawl through them. If you can fit the last three sets in your briefcase, I should be able to manage the rest."
"Have you spoken to Lorraine?"
"Yes, she was relieved when I asked her if she'd mind me missing a day with Toby. She wanted to go and stay overnight with her mother, so it means they can start off earlier. I'll have a good chat with Toby on the phone tonight to make up for not seeing him."
The minutes of the Council were stacked up on the coffee table in front of them, but Winner and Sally were listening intently to a re-run of the telephone calls cassette.
"
I've never heard him speak," said Sally, "so it's really up to you."
"I can't be certain. People always sound different on the telephone anyway. It's not as if I've heard him say much either. Just one or two Planning committee meetings and that presentation for the new superstore. There's just something about this voice that makes me think it might be him."
The tape ended. Winner reached over and pushed the re-wind button.
"Let's look at the other evidence," said Sally. "Nigel mentions 'land matters' and the other man mentions his secretary. That would suggest someone in business. People like Dennis Avery don't have secretaries. Perhaps if we could find out a bit more about Cavendish, it might tie in with some of these other addresses."
"I heard Avery and Mrs Morris mention Cavendish. They were talking about break-ins at River Heights. Avery said something about Cavendish having guard dogs at night, so he must live up there."
Sally picked up the phone book, but there was no entry for Cavendish.
"We could always find him in the Electoral Roll," she said.
"He's here in the Annual Report," said Winner. "Local businessman with interests in property development. Not much detail, just waffle, but it gives his address as 'Cedar Park, Waterview Drive. Correspondence to an office in 'The Crescent, Sharmouth'. Those are just small offices for solicitors and accountants."
"Where's the big money in local government?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, Nigel gave the impression he was going to make a lot of money out of his scheme. Most of the money spent by councils goes on salaries and wages. The rest of the business is made up of small transactions like car parking fees or weekly benefits cheques. What could involve so much money that Nigel could get a big slice?"
"Capital schemes for big new building works. Big contracts. Loan transactions. Planning gain, I suppose, when land goes up in value because of planning permission."
Sally broke off two cubes of dark chocolate and let them melt slowly on her tongue.
"Exactly," she said after a while. "It can't be anything to do with loan transactions, because the books have to balance at the end of the day. Which leaves us with contracts, land, planning permission. Just the sort of things that Cavendish must be involved in."
"That's a pretty tenuous connection."
"Put it this way," said Sally. "Nigel was trying to blackmail someone in a powerful position. What sort of things can people have done that lay them open to blackmail?"
"Something they don't want revealed because it's illegal or would damage their reputation."
"The tape mentions purchase contracts for the Prince of Wales housing estate. You hear a lot of complaints about the poor standard of construction on that estate. Perhaps there was money skimmed off that should have been spent on construction."
"It must be something like that," agreed Winner. "You know, Cavendish is very keen on this superstore development. Perhaps he has some sort of interest that he should have declared. Where do we go from here?"
"Tomorrow we get all the cash and other papers safely in another bank vault and then you take me out to lunch. It would be quiet on Sunday. We could take a look at these various addresses and see if they're connected to each other or to Cavendish."
"We know that the land for the superstore was for sale through Cameron Peters. We could ask next week who's selling it."
Winner got up and slipped the cassette out of the machine. He replaced it with a tape of Mozart horn concertos and went out to the kitchen to make some coffee. Sally followed him to the door.
"We don't have to deposit every last penny of the money," she said. "We could be a little frivolous tomorrow."
"Us long term local government types find it hard to spend money," said Winner, "but I'll give it a try. I was thinking of looking for a seagull to keep rubber duck company."