A CASE FOR A CORONER

The body was found beneath the window of his 10^th floor apartment in Moscow.

The British Embassy`s  comment was that Appleton was well known as a drinker and had long had suicidal tendencies. It was not surprised at the  tragedy.

Looking down into the street a few days earlier Tom  Appleton had noticed a man whom he had seen several times before, trying to look  inconspicuous. He walked round the block  and disappeared, but always at different times.

Obviously casing the joint, thought Tom.

That night Tom wrote a note to a neighbour who although not by any means as “active” as he, could be trusted with a message which he would endeavour to deliver to the right quarter.

“…..looks very much as if I am under surveillance. In fact ,I fear  I may be arrested. As it would not be wise at the moment to pursue my extra-curricular activities, should we  call them,  I am just performing my wonted duties at the Bank. Can you convey my fears to you know  whom….”

Tom Appleton had in fact been an employee of a well-known bank all his adult life, working his way diligently and unobtrusively up the company ladder. When he was appointed a bank representative  in Moscow, espionage was the last  thing on his mind. Security authorities were always on the look-out for likely lads (and lasses) and an innocuous  bank representative , especially in Moscow, appeared tailor-made. Tom was recruited to the espionage team by appealing to his strong sense of patriotism mainly, but sweetened by the promise of backhanders for his pains and the attendant dangers.

Tom was about 45 when recruited, a well-built man of average height , gregarious, and knowing enough Russian to get by. Although somewhat rusty now he had been quite fluent at university where he had  studied the language. He expected to soon pick it up again in his new post.

“Of course, it means you`ll have to establish contact with the KGB as soon as possible without raising suspicion,” his contact said abruptly. “I suggest the best way to do this is to go to KGB headquarters in the city and make out you`d be willing to do a little work for them  in return for a consideration. Ostensibly this would be on ideological grounds.” 

Tom`s mission was to arrange a supply of black-listed technology from the West to the Russian authorities and in return to pass back information to his MI5 controller. It was a dangerous game but Tom felt he was influencing the course of history. The technology was vetted for suitability  i.e. that of dubious value – which the recipients were not to know. In contrast, Tom was to supply only information of real consequence. On the surface  he was  a model and industrious bank employee. In the evenings and on his days off he was something else. This lasted during the late 80s , early 90s – until the KGB found him out.

The knock on the door had not that evening been entirely unexpected. Four men  had rushed in and without saying a word had  set into Tom leaving him semi-conscious. His bruises were not to be distinguished  from those to be expected in a fall from a 10^th floor window, his attackers reasoned. 

Nobody witnessed the attack , the fall or could shed light on the attackers,  (if any) . Officially, Tom Appleton had fallen to his death  in a drunken, suicidal state. His cry for help had gone unheard or unheeded and instead of being helped to pull out he had been left to fend for himself , in vain.

As the circumstances were unusual to say the least and needed investigation , a post mortem was performed on the body. Forensic tests revealed no trace of alcohol in the body! Any coroner worth his salt would have his suspicions raised about the official line and I was no exception. I immediately pressed for more information before  the  public inquest opened. It was clear that some sort of cover-up was in place, because I was getting nowhere fast with my inquiries.  The only “advice” I received came in the form of a brief phone call from the Foreign Office: “It would be better all round if a verdict achieved expeditiously of accidental death or misadventure was recorded” an anonymous voice said, identifying itself  only by status not name. I had no time to argue before the caller hung up. I had been given the message and it was expected  that, reading between the lines, I would obey.

In the meantime, I did some research into Appleton. It seems he was much more of a complex character than the media line purported. Of course I had never , at least since the forensic tests were done , doubted that he was not just an ordinary bank employee. Appleton had never married but this did not mean  he hadn`t an eye for the opposite sex.  In fact quite the reverse: he had several Russian women “friends” although one appeared to be particularly close, who by all accounts, had been planted by the KGB, and whose true role, to winkle out information where she could , was unsuspected by Appleton. Despite the seeming danger  to British security in this liaison , he managed to carry on his spying activities to the evident satisfaction of his bosses back in England. He was clearly very discreet. It is possible that this side of his life he kept hidden from MI5. This “affair” shall we call it , was however not one of the inducements that helped persuade  Appleton to enter the world of espionage. Rather he became an apparent double agent mainly because it was the basis on which he had been approached in the first place. That he had maintained his integrity to his homeland despite his love  affair did him great credit I believed. I was all the more  determined to see justice done the more I learned of him. 

The difficulty was that witnesses could  hide behind the Official Secrets Act if the inquest were to be held in public, as was customary. The only way to get at the truth of the incident was to hold the inquest in secret. It was my court and I had jurisdiction over procedures therein. I ordered the matter to be held in secret. I hated the idea of a cover-up and I was determined to expose it. I was however taken aback by the reaction of some of the newspapers , one in particular  which is well known for its supportive government tone.

Under the heading , “Coroner orders Inquest in Secret” with the sub-heading , “Official Secrets Act to be Defied”, my name and court were made public and shown in an adverse light. In the column that followed, the argument advanced by the paper was that hearings should only be held in secret  when national security was involved – which I believed it was. The Foreign Office was of course denying this was the case. Ostensibly I was in the wrong. The newspaper felt so strongly about this that it took legal action against me.

The upshot was that in the High Court my decision was reversed and I  came in for some criticism from the Judge , Lord Justice “S”…….(now retired I understand ) who referred to me as “A very stubborn man ….misguided in his belief ……”  This judgement left me feeling very angry and dismayed as I left the courthouse that morning. My resolve to see justice done  was nevertheless as strong as ever. The inquest had still to be held , albeit now in public, but still in my court……(S.E. England). I prepared the case thoroughly and researched the background material meticulously. I was determined to prove my point against all odds though I could not now summon vital witnesses as they could claim immunity.

The jury had to be convinced that Appleton had been unlawfully killed despite all publicity to the contrary.  “How can a man who tests revealed had no alcohol in his body have fallen off his balcony in a drunken stupor?”  I argued. “Moreover Appleton had not displayed any suicidal tendencies to those who knew him. He was successful in his career , outward going, happy in his personal relationships …..and in the valuable work he was doing for his country.”  I could see the jury`s eyes widen as I revealed the story of the dead man`s secret life. Naturally they knew nothing of this when they filed in . Of course the powers-that-be wanted none of this detail to come out  but my one consuming mission was that the truth had to  be told about this man; I  had no thought of any repercussions. Justice had to be done at any price.

My master stroke was the note , which Tom Appleton had written to his neighbour a few days before he had died. This I had made  it my business to secure. I made great play of this note drawing it forcibly to the jury`s attention. It was appreciated for what it truly was: a cri de coeur from  a patriot who felt the net closing in.    The fact that no help was extended to a man who had been placed in his perilous position by people who did not want to know, weighed  heavily in my favour.

“Far from being a suicidal drunk , Appleton had died in the service of his country,” were my last words of address to the jury. 

I awaited the verdict in the crowded  courtroom. Nervously I doodled on my notepad. I could not bear to think of my case  being rejected by the jury and the consequent damage it would do to my reputation and career. The jury returned and the spokeswoman was ready to   give the verdict.

“We find that Mr Appleton had been unlawfully killed.”

My struggles against authority  and the process of a so-called law that made cover-ups possible had been vindicated , at least in my court. Perhaps others would now take up the fight for justice  in the teeth of establishment odds. I was part of this  establishment it was true, but I drew the line at besmirching a man foe the sake of a dishonest national reputation. Tom Appleton was an honourable man who had died a lonely and horrible death for his beliefs. At least his reputation was now secure. , “Thanks to your efforts” said well-wishers . It was the best moment of my life. I could not top it. The following year I took early retirement.

(I am now able to tell the story. The protagonist's name has been changed.)

© A.B. Finlay Ph.D