The new fax rolled out its first incoming message soon after eleven next morning, just as Bob and Sarah were about to leave for Torroella de Montgri. They heard the ring, and Bob was on his way to pick up the phone in the hall when the fax recognition system kicked in.
The message took only a few seconds to arrive, and was contained within two A4 pages. As always with Brian Mackie's communications, it was to the point. Its content came as no surprise to Skinner. Nicolas Vaudan had no criminal record of any sort, not even a speeding conviction. He had never been arrested or interviewed in connection with any crime. He was regarded with respect in the Monegasque business community, and included among his clients several members of European and Middle Eastern royal families. While his company was based in Monaco, he and his wife lived in Mougins, an exclusive suburb of Cannes, which boasted several major entertainment and sporting personalities among its residents.
His business record was equally pristine. There had once been a complaint that a used boat had been offered to a buyer as new, but that had been revealed to be the malicious work of a frustrated rival. Scrupulous accounts of Vaudan Marine were filed annually. Invariably they showed all stock accounted for, no long-term creditors and no bad debts. They showed the
company to have been consistently turning in adequate, although not excessive profits, and that most of these were being invested openly in pension funds for Vaudan and his wife.
Both as a private citizen in France and as a company director in Monaco, Vaudan's tax affairs were similarly as spotless. He paid his taxes promptly and without complaint, and his returns were filed by the Monte Carlo office of one of the world's major accountancy firms.
Sarah watched Skinner's face as he read the fax, seeing a look of resignation settle in.
`No use?' she asked.
`No. Just as I expected. The guy's as clean as a whistle. He seemed far too confident for it to have turned out any other way. Whatever Santi may have been told, there was no way that this fellow was siphoning off profit, not recently anyway. Every deal, everywhere, is logged and accounted for, as I thought. A bloody dead end. Let's get along to Torroella and see if there's more joy to be had out of Mr Inch.'