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(Continued from overleaf)
I guess they got the message. Having realised that threats of legal action were not going to work, Rusbridger resorted to intimidation of the underhand variety.
On Tuesday 31 March, just after lunch, I received a call from Guardian journalist Luke Harding, requesting an interview. I had not come across his name before during our investigation, though I knew him to be one of David Leigh's co-authors on
The Guardian's book about former Tory minister Jonathan Aitken. Not, it seemed to me, to be the sort of credentials I would boast about in polite company.
Harding told me that The Guardian wanted to run a feature on Malcolm Keith-Hill and myself.
'Oh, really?' I said, sarcastically. 'You mean like the one you did on Neil Hamilton? No, thanks. I've requested interviews with Rusbridger and his staff five times and he's declined every time, so I don't see why I should talk to you.'
Harding's oily bedside manner belied his intentions. 'No, it's not like that, Jonathan, I mean, this report you've done, it's very interesting though I don't agree with it …'
I kept on trying to end the conversation and get off the phone but Harding's skill at keeping me on the line exceeded my own.
'What's your motivation for supporting someone like Neil Hamilton?' he asked, as if Neil Hamilton was the devil incarnate himself.
'Well, he's innocent and just because he's a right-wing Tory who wears a dickey-bow isn't a good enough reason to stitch him up,' I replied.
He repeated his question.
'Look,' I said, 'if you want to know my motivation you should talk to other people who know me and who can give you their own independent views. You should talk to Jim Hancock at the BBC in Manchester, or Baroness Turner of Camden, or Andy Spinoza from the Manchester Evening News. Now there's a good person to speak to, he's one of your own - a journalist on a Guardian Group newspaper. I'll spell it out for you: S - P - I ...'
'No, it's okay,' Harding said. 'But why do you think someone with your record is qualified to make corruption allegations against Guardian journalists?'
'What do you mean, my record? I have an honourable record in business, I was a good employer, I treated my staff well, and I got out of business with no debts.'
'Well, someone like you, a tax fraudster, evading tax?'
My heart jumped. He'd found out about my misdemeanour from 1990 when I had under-declared the duties on many of the classic cars I imported from California.
He continued: 'I have a document from Customs and Excise that says you had evaded £115,000 of VAT and had to pay a £22,000 fine. Why should anyone believe a person like you who had been involved in tax evasion?'
Harding was bluffing. His figures were wildly inaccurate. The total amount I had to pay Customs was £23,000 inclusive of penalty.
'That's factually wrong,' I said. 'I don't know where you got this document from but I'd like to see it. I'd be very surprised if Customs gave out these figures because they are wrong.'
'Do you deny that you evaded tax?'
'I don't deny that I undervalued certain cars I was bringing through from America, but before you run any story I insist that you check first with the Customs Officer who carried out the investigation. Look, Luke, Rusbridger's obviously put you up to this for another stitch-up job. I don't know you from Adam, and you could be an honourable journalist for all I know, but I will say this. You're not going to help yourself by taking any orders from Rusbridger or Preston because they're in it up to their necks. Unless you want to be shackled to The Guardian for the rest of your life I suggest you think this through carefully.'
I became aware that someone else was listening in on the call - Rusbridger perhaps? It was time to turn the tables and have some fun.
I said mischievously, 'What I'm really looking for is someone on the inside at The Guardian to really blow the lid off what's been going on down there. Why don't I come down to Farringdon Road with all the evidence and we can have a chat about it? There's definitely been a conspiracy, and Rusbridger and Preston are definitely behind it. I can bring down all the files, everything. How about it?'
There was some rustling during the pause as he spoke to someone. He put the handset back to his mouth. 'No, I don't think I can let you do that,' he said.
What a surprise, I thought.
'Could I arrange to have some photographs taken of you?' he enquired.
'No,' I replied. 'But if you contact your staff photographer, Graham Turner, who attended our press conference in Westminster in October last year, you will find he has plenty of pictures of me and Malcolm Keith-Hill.'
'When's the story coming out, anyway?' I asked.
'In about a week,' he said.
I disclosed, with a sense of triumph, that I was working on this book and that I expected it to be published. 'Well make sure you get your facts right from Customs and Excise in Manchester first.'
And with that the call ended.
I fired up the car and tore down to Customs House at Ralli Quays, Manchester, to see Martin Lennon, the investigating officer who cleaned me out back in 1990.
He agreed to see me and took me off to the canteen.
'Good to see you Martin,' I said, as we sat down with a mug of tea apiece.
'Good to see you too,' he replied. What's the problem?'
'Do you remember me ringing you up last year?'
'Yes, of course.'
I was referring to my call to him in November 1997 after lobbyist Ian Greer warned me of The Guardian's intentions to smear Malcolm and me should we publish our report. I explained to Martin what we had uncovered, and the warnings we had received, and asked him where I stood if The Guardian started digging around in my past and found out about my misdemeanour. At the time he said that as far as he was concerned I had co-operated fully, the matter was settled, no charges were brought, and I was one among many doing the same.
'Well,' I said, 'I received a call about half an hour ago from a Guardian journalist called Luke Harding. He says he has a document from Customs stating that I evaded £115,000 of VAT and had to pay a £22,000 fine. I know that's wildly out, but is it possible someone got their wires crossed upstairs and gave the wrong figures?'
'They wouldn't have got anything from us. We don't give confidential information out. They're trying it on. Believe me. Someone else with a grudge has told them.'
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