Orders from Above

The first thing that confused us was the phone call from Norman Luck from The Express. It wasn’t what we expected at all, and to be honest, it frightened Roger and Elaine. Instead of being told that the newspaper wanted more information, and that it was going to be the big exposé we had imagined, we were told: ‘I don’t know what you have got hold of here.  In all the years I’ve been a journalist I have never had so many doors shut in my face! My advice is, let it go, before one of these Arabs put a bullet in the back of your head.’

 After hanging up the phone we all sat there just looking at one and other.  What the hell’s going on here? was the question we couldn’t answer.

The next day, Roger told me that he and Elaine had decided to go toIrelandto visit some of her family, and that he would call me as soon as they arrived, and would come back immediately if the police wanted him to give statement.

And that was that.  They left that day, and I have never seen or heard from them since.

After a week or so, I was concerned that I had heard nothing from the police, so I phoned the DCI in Swanseaand asked him what was going on, and what he wanted me to do.  The reply was this, ‘Nothing Mr. Bellett. We gave Mr. Waite his suitcase back the same day, and he is not pressing any charges.’

My jaw dropped, ‘What?’ I asked,’ you gave him the stuff back, why?’

His answer was,Orders from above.’

And that was that.  I could not believe what I had just been told but that’s exactly what was said. To say I was fuming would be an understatement.

I got on the phone to Waite with steam coming out of my ears, thinking that although the police had whitewashed this whole affair because of ‘the orders from above’, and that the newspaper wasn’t going to go ahead with the story, for whatever reason, that Waite was still not off the hook because I had given all the information to the tax man-and nobody gets away from them, do they?

When Waite answered the phone and I kicked off, he was just laughing saying, ‘you can’t mess with these people scouse, just forget it.

‘Is that right?’ I said, ’Well let’s see how you get on with the tax man, because we gave him everything!

His response?  He became hysterical: He’s one of ours as well scouse.  He’s one of ours.”

I screamed and cursed and slammed the phone down.

Let me explain what he meant by ‘one of ours scouse’.  He was telling me they were Freemasons, one of the most truthful things he ever said to me.

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