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The day of Luigi and Wendy’s party had finally arrived. I wanted to have some time to chat with her whilst I was there, and so I invited Ieva to be my guest as a ploy to distract all the men in the room, leaving me alone with Wendy, to find out how things stood between us. Ieva accepted without knowing of my plan. The ‘White Party’ in Wimbledon Village began with me meeting Ieva at the Dog and Fox pub.
‘You look nice’ she said.
‘So, do you’ I replied, in an attempt to be professional, although we could see right through it.
We arrived on the corner of the High Street in the Village and entered the apartment complex before taking the lift to the penthouse.
Ieva was as impressed with the place as I was. The same white grand piano stood in the corner, food was everywhere, and Eric and Georgie once more engaged to play music, alongside their sax and guitar, which were placed on stands in a safe place, to give a consistently good ambience.
We were greeted with the customary glass of rosé champagne then ushers on to the terrace that overlooked the skyline of Wimbledon. Before long Wendy bustled over and greeted us. She looked amazing, as always, although she seemed to be in considerable pain from the bandaged little finger on her right hand, which she had apparently cut on broken glass during a fall earlier that evening when preparing for the party.
She should really have gone straight to hospital. She was constantly being asked by her guests if she wanted to be taken to A&E, yet she refused – only to then stand with me and chat, whilst Ieva commanded a roomful of willing males, eager to give her their business cards. The sun was setting perfectly, and the live band began to play.
As Wendy stood watching the sun go down over Wimbledon, I joked, ‘I was going to bring some tequila tonight.’
‘Stop, please! I got into so much trouble that night. He didn't talk to me for the whole week, other than in front our dinner guests. I loved it and want to do it again, but just the two of us next time and Cinderella will not get home early.’
Wendy continued, ‘If you’d brought a bottle, he would have gone crazy, as he’s banned Jimmy (pictured left) and the others from getting any. This flat is a “no tequila” zone.’
She then gave me a warm smile and added, ‘Wait further around the corner on the terrace, as I have something for you and want to be there with you when you get it.’
The sun had almost disappeared over the horizon when I took the few steps Wendy had asked me to take to a secluded part of the terrace. I was met by one of her waiting staff, hovering next to a table lit with candles and garnished with rose petals. In the middle were two glasses, lemon, salt and a bottle of tequila. I grinned.
Wendy arrived on the scene and said, ‘Your friend is so beautiful and charming.’ Then, pointing at Luigi, she added, ‘Everyone loves her, even him.’
‘Who?’ I replied, as a joke pretending I hadn't noticed before adding, ‘You’ve done so much for me and taken a great risk just to have a sip of the forbidden drink… and your finger is so bad, why won’t you let me take you to the hospital?’
As her party was in full swing and live band playing, Wendy came much closer to me and said,
‘I wanted to take the risk, as I haven't had so much fun as when I was with you at Hemmy’s. I felt free at last as I love to dance and although you didn't want to, you didn’t complain and just did as you had promised. If I went to hospital, I’d have missed you and not had this moment with you. Something that I’ve been thinking of ever since.’
We took the salt, then the tequila and finished by bringing the lemon to our lips...
‘What are you two up to?’ Ieva asked, bursting on to the hidden part of the terrace.
Our silence was enough of an answer.
‘What are we drinking?’ she went on, a little tipsy by now and bored of her new admirers.
The maid quickly cleared the table of the spirit and put an ice bucket in its place containing a fresh bottle of bubbly.
‘Champagne!’ Wendy replied, and we were each poured a glass.
Wendy left to mingle with Tony Prince (pictured Right) and guests as Ieva approached me, now openly flirting. The night was over: it had been a wonderful party. We all said our goodbyes. With a lingering hug, I whispered to Wendy, ‘I have a surprise for you’.
As Ieva and I took a step forward towards the downward stairs, I could hear a voice in the distance saying, ‘Can’t wait,’ which made me giggle.
Ieva and I then went to Hemmy’s, which only served to remind me of Wendy and the Salsa dancing. Ieva was just warming up: I was the one this time to cool her, making her even keener – no man would refuse her in usual circumstances. We sat outside and there was one last kiss before calling her a cab to take her home.
The following Monday morning, I spoke with Andrew and thanked him and Bentley for their hospitality at the Game Fair. Bentley, however, had not completed their hospitality: VIP invitations are just one facet of how their brand has been built. It is easy to sell a Bentley: just let someone drive one and they’ll buy it.
Andrew knew this, of course: when he and I had chatted about getting a small dog for my daughter, he asked, ‘Would you like to take your daughter to see the pups in the brand new £350,000 Bentley Mulsanne Speed? We could lend you the car to enjoy for a few days.’ Never has the term ‘no-brainer’ been more appropriate and I agreed with huge appreciation and no hesitation.
What a treat: Bentley were pulling out the stops in their levels of hospitality and care for clients. I messaged my daughter and took her out for the day to see some puppies and though she sounded impressed, she only really wanted to see the cute puppies.
I returned the Mulsanne to the showroom reluctantly but was asked to take the Flying Spur out for a trial instead.
In addition, I was invited as a guest to Sir Edward Dashwood’s private estate at West Wycombe Park to shoot with him and some of EJ Churchill’s other close contacts.
It was such a fun day, so addictive, and the people were very welcoming. If not playing tennis, I would choose shooting: I made a mental note to take up the sport once I had addressed my outstanding issues.
I returned the Flying Spur to the showroom reluctantly but was asked to take the Bentaga out for a trial instead.
Bentley wanted acces to my contacts d insights into The Home Club business. But who didn't!
I started the fateful date of 5 September 2017 by attending the annual breakfast with the past Lord Mayor of the City of London. Dr Andrew Parmley, at Mansion House to mark City Giving Day.
I sat next to Lawson Muncaster, owner of City AM, on the Lord Mayor’s table. I was asked by both the Lord Mayor and newspaper proprietor how The Home Club was doing. I explained the potential of the Club and that I would continue to support the City of London by making more donations once the contract had paid out.
As I explained to the Lord Mayor the level of support I had intended to make once I had funds in place, he jumped to his feet took the mic to refer to this promised donation. Lawson sat quietly and continued to eat. I knew he was a lively character as I had met him previously and been asked by Michael to invite him to join The Home Club .
I left the breakfast event and met with Ieva for coffee at The Ned hotel before we both went straight to the London Capital Club. Ieva waited in the bar at the Club whilst I went upstairs to the Wren Room and into the meeting.
Michael and Russell arrived just as early as me, so we began our agenda a little earlier than planned, at around 1.20 pm. As we opened the meeting with some initial comments from Michael, his phone rang, and he looked at his caller screen.
‘Who is it?’ asked Russell, nervously.
‘Oh, its City AM, I’ll speak with them later,’ Michael muttered.
I quickly returned the conversation to the matters at hand regarding The Home Club . I asked Russell to explain the level of interest in investment from Silicon Valley and how the sale of shares was going as they only had a few weeks to deliver the first tranche of £3 million. Russell started to look shifty. He refused to give me any information and announced he was resigning his position of Managing Director of The Home Club with immediate effect.
Michael added, ‘We came on board as a pair and we are now going to leave as a pair. The same sentiments and reasons that Russell has just given to you, apply to me also.’
‘But, what about the contract and the money you both owe to me?’ I asked.
‘There is no contract anymore,’ Michael said, with Russell nodding in agreement.
At that exact moment the meeting was over, so I left the room.
As far as I was concerned, both Michael and Russell were in breach of contract, as the ‘personal guarantees’ relating to the first tranche of funds of £3 million were due by 8 October 2017, with the balance of £100 million to follow.
I went back downstairs and had a drink with Ieva before leaving for home to consider my first moves in a prospective legal battle. I decided to start off with a degree of reconciliation by asking them both to provide me with statements as to why they repudiated the contract. Those statements were not forthcoming.
Before I could put my plan into effect, I had received emails from Jeremy Sutton and others resigning their positions. This behaviour had a familiar whiff and I knew exactly who was the culprit. I just needed more information to prove it as this was a 20 year war that I needed to win and win big!
I was only left with Victoria Salem, who remained in place for a further 20 days. In the period, just short of six-months of my knowing Michael and Russell (17 March 2017 to 5 September 2017), everyone had left The Home Club team without giving reasons to do so.
I had previously decided to meet up with Ria in a coffee shop in Putney to discuss what was going on. I asked her for information as to why she felt the others had left.
Ria revealed that she was aware they had been planning something and were colluding. ‘Not again’ in thought'. She then forwarded to me an email from Az that asked her to call him on her mobile when I questioned her as to why he had left. She then added that she had been asked to get a job with Scotland Yard as an undercover officer and The Home Club issues were becoming too much for her.
One might easily think there was a series of strategic attacks on my business and those of my family. Although having the evidence to hand on all previous cases, I had a new drama to resolve before I could add any associated concerns. Whilst I could see the connections between the police, prosecution, solicitors, and government agencies like the CCRC, HMRC and ICAEW, I wondered whether I could join Buckmaster-Brown, Dalgleish and the others to any collusion. Was there a conspiracy going on between all the parties I was fighting or was this new issue an example of a similar scenario repeating itself at random? I needed to take time to carry out more research into this whole set of circumstances. Surely the same thing couldn’t happen twice, I thought.
On top of the many professionals who had left my business without good reason, with Michael and Russell being prime examples on that list, my focus was now to recover the company. The outside world continued to show excitement and expectation about The Home Club coming to fruition. I needed some hard facts, rather than to add speculation – based on my experiences with dark forces – to this series of odd events.
Before paranoia took hold of me, I decided to any thoughts about an overall conspiracy a very wide berth, even though I had seen evidence of collusion before.
I had all the evidence for the conspiracies I have already mentioned: in emails, court transcripts, handwritten notes, exhibits, sworn statements and photos.
When making official statements of truth, especially when others might feel like challenging my words, I always seek to put this same level of ‘evidence’ in place to support my own words. I retain an incredible amount of detail in my mind and in evidence, before even a single word on paper exists. I needed this exact same level of evidence to deal with this new situation.
I knew only too well the overwhelming feeling of ‘Where do I start?’
I always remember that I’m not a lawyer, so my way of discovering evidence of facts is to begin with an entrepreneurial view towards the administration of documents. Almost like a detective, I begin to build the story.
Add in the ingredients of luck, extreme levels of determination and doggedness, and trust in my gut feelings for guidance, uncovering these conspiracies would often in my experience be proven, even when the evidence causes surprise or shock.
I had the added benefit of help from my mother. Like me, she takes great interest in solving criminal cases, has been instrumental in solving criminal appeals and is more determined than anyone I know.
We are a great team. Mum gained her interest in research many years ago, when she cross-referenced the world’s shipping registrations using only index cards, as computers weren’t then available. Mum is also a keen genealogist: she can literally find anyone, which was an invaluable starting point for me to concentrate on the research and detection of evidence for criminal appeals.
My mother and I worked together on these cases: with her experience and insights, my basic knowledge of computers and the determination we both share, we uncovered evidence that has made people in the shadows take interest in us.
I now needed a forensic expert to help me decipher the oddities going on in my life. I knew that this would break her temporarily away from her own research into her ancestry: especially the ‘Payne’ family in Northern Ireland.
We can move in any circles, including creating some of our own. The Home Club encompasses all circles of trust and aspires to Olympic stature.
With my need of her forensic skills, I visited my mother to begin the research. I asked her to investigate the names ‘Lord Michael Buckmaster-Brown’ and ‘Russell Dalgleish’. As always, my mother dropped everything and said, ‘I’m on it now’.
Her computer screen refreshed to display the latest genealogy sites, Burke’s and Debrett’s Peerages, and Excel spreadsheets. ‘You know I’ll find something; I’ve never been wrong yet,’ she promised.
She was right and I had full confidence in her abilities of research and detection.
As I left the room to make us both a coffee, I could see her purchasing a Marriage Certificate for ‘Buckmaster-Brown’ ...
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