The deal he had in the pipeline at that time was oil that was getting ripped off from the Nigerian oil fields, and transported via Holland. The destination wasSouth Africa of all places. So much for embargoes. And all these deals were getting done under the umbrella of the Sir James Laing group of companies, and I will embroider upon that a bit further on.
Another deal was shipping warehouses full of rice that had been ripped off from the UN famine relief that were being stored inThailand. The delay on that was, they had to decide if they re-bagged it because all the original bags were stamped, or they just got rid of the sacks and sold it as cracked rice. The significance will become apparent later.
By the time my leave was nearing its end, John talked quite openly, and had taken a shine to me. But his wife never missed an opportunity to snipe at him — behind his back of course — and had made it quite clear what she really thought of him. But I will skip over the lurid detail of their relationship, and just say they deserved one and other. They both insisted that, I spend my leave with them. In fact John was trying to persuade me to stay ashore and work for him, promising me that he would make me rich. Just like Roger was promised.
But once again a quirk of fate brought me back to theUKafter just six weeks, and I found myself on my way toPlymouth, to stay with this pair of misfits.
In the time I had been away, I had racked my brain, thinking how to warn Roger about all that was going on, but what could I do? I couldn’t just phone and start trying to explain everything; I don’t think he would have listened. And I felt it would be better if I just got as much information out of this pair as I could, and wait and see when Roger was coming back, and then tell him face to face.
This time things at the Waite household were different. A new face had appeared on the scene, The Major (Neville), and what a character he turned out to be.
He looked the typical ex-army major you see on a TV sitcom, and acted the part. But he was another very devious and shifty excuse of a man, and I loathed him. I discovered he wasn’t actually a major, he was a captain. Con men and braggarts, the pair of them.
After being picked up at the station by Waite he couldn’t wait to get me back to his place, excitedly telling me how well things were going, and saying I had come back just at the right time.
After the usual welcome by his cunning little trophy bride, we sat down for some food and they were both questioning me about my trip, and telling me how glad they were I had come back so soon. Then we settled in the lounge and had coffee. Once again, and as usual, John took centre stage and started explaining how he had just got his new arms catalogues delivered, and producing a letter from Sir Michael Heseltine wishing him well in his business ventures.
All very impressive I must admit but I was thinking, ‘Yeah, but I bet the Government doesn’t know just what you’re up to.’ But even that was wrong.