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Press and Journal
02-05-2025
- Press and Journal
The Britoil Scandal: What happened to the Aberdeen couple behind the audacious £23m fraud?
The £23 million Britoil fraud took place 37 years ago, and much has happened in the lives of the key figures in the case – so where are they now? Alison Anders served 20 months behind bars and Roy Allen served a little more. Having begun their relationship when Allen cheated on his wife, Anders and Allen were to prove that their romance was not just a short-lived affair. They often wrote to each other from their cells at Saughton and Cornton Vale and, upon release from jail, the couple got married at Peterhead Registry Office on April 23 1993. There was a reception for family and friends at the Waterside Hotel in Peterhead. On the marriage certificate, Anders listed her profession as 'horticulturalist' – a nod to her time when she went on the run from the police and FBI and worked under a fake name at Jacobsen's florist in Oregon. The couple bought a house from a retired farmer in Maud and lived a peaceful life together – with one or two bumps in the road. Anders took a job as a £12,000-a-year tutor with Rehab Scotland but was sacked because she did not tell bosses about the fraud. Despite their past crimes, the couple were popular and had several friends in and around Aberdeenshire. One friend told us that Anders and Allen got a pair of Rottweilers to dissuade tabloid journalists from arriving on the doorstep. The friend, who asked not to be named, added: 'The fraud was never going to be a success for them. 'They realised subsequently that, in many ways, it was a good thing that the fraud failed as an effort. 'There were too many people along the money chain that they were relying upon. 'Those people would have done away with them at some point instead of simply passing the money on. 'I do remember Roy confiding in me that he and Alison, in fact, were lucky to be alive.' For all his failings, Roy Allen was thought of highly by those around him in his later years. The friend said: 'He was one of these people that, in company, you were always aware of his presence. 'He filled the room. 'Roy would phone and say 'if you're not doing anything, come round, I've got a bottle of malt – we can see what we can do with that'.' After graduating from Aberdeen University with a psychology degree, he became a lecturer at the same university and would always start lectures by showing students a picture of his dog. Roy Allen died after a short illness on October 2014, aged 62. By then, oil companies had become a subject of annoyance for some young people, and one student publication paid tribute to Allen after his death. The Tab's article began: 'As if we needed another reason to admire him, Roy Allen has been unmasked as a criminal mastermind.' It added that Allen was 'loved by many of his students' and 'regardless of his past, this lecturer and local icon will be sorely missed by both staff and students'. Hajdin Sejdija is still offering tips on how to become rich through property dealings. He could not be located despite extensive efforts. Jill Ruddell and Omar Hammoud did not wish to be interviewed for this series. One person known to them told us: 'In many ways, Jill and Omar were collateral damage in this story. 'They are good people. They did nothing wrong. 'In fact, they could have just stayed well and truly out of it – but all they wanted was for justice to be done. 'And their 'reward' for helping and doing the right thing was having their names mentioned in court, which wasn't great for them.' Alison Anders is working in the field of education in Aberdeenshire and still lives in Maud. We made several attempts to contact her over a period of several months and she did not return our messages. As for Detective Constable Hamish Moir, who cracked the case after several years of police work with his colleagues, he left Grampian Police in 1996 and, now aged 65, he is enjoying his retirement, living in the north-east. Words by Design by Trailer and promotion by and Editing by , and With thanks to and for helping with research.
Press and Journal
01-05-2025
- Press and Journal
The Britoil Scandal: Detectives embark on a quest across Europe in a bid to get their man
Alison Anders and Roy Allen were behind bars, serving time for attempting to defraud Aberdeen oil firm Britoil out of £23m – but the case was not yet over. Because, during the trial, it emerged that Anders had alleged a 38-year-old Albanian man with friends in high places had arranged for a Swiss bank account to be opened as part of the scam. She also claimed that this man, Hajdin Sejdija, had ordered someone to take her out into the desert and threaten her. It was an audacious claim. So audacious, in fact, that many of those involved in the trial thought it could not possibly be true. 'I suspect my view at the time was that this is just a lot of lies,' said Crown prosecutor Lord Uist, who was then known as Roderick Macdonald KC. There was only one problem – Anders' story had merit. Sure, it was an outrageous tale – but there was a real likelihood it was credible. It was about to send Grampian Police down a rabbit hole with a plot line straight out of a Hollywood thriller. Anders' sensational yarn would lead to Aberdeen detectives into the realm of Albanian moneymen who had links to the Abu Dhabi royal family, a French millionaire antiques dealer and Swiss police. Detective Constable Hamish Moir said: 'We were delighted with the convictions and the sentences of Alison Anders and Roy Allen – but it wasn't finished. 'There was frustration in as much that Hajdin Sejdija hadn't been brought to justice. 'Given there was an allegation he had set up the account and threatened Alison Anders – and may well have orchestrated the whole thing, he had a case to answer.' One thing that still bothered DC Moir and his colleagues was how had Anders managed to afford the flights from Abu Dhabi to America, and what happened during her time in the Middle East? She was a lowly paid administration worker at Britoil who would struggle to pay for round-the-world flights – and yet somehow afforded the airfare from Aberdeen to Abu Dhabi, and then to Canada and, ultimately, Oregon. Police were about to explore another lead that would give them their answer. When detectives found letters taped to the underside of Roy Allen's desk drawer at the office in South Silver Street, Aberdeen, they discovered Anders had been writing to Roy Allen when she was in the US. But those letters also revealed that Anders had been writing to someone else. And that gave detectives a new lead. DC Moir said: 'In her letter to Roy, Alison mentioned she had written to her brother Richard, who lived in Norfolk. 'I went down with Inspector Dave Smith to Norwich to speak with Richard, who was 28 at the time. 'Richard was a nice guy – but he denied any knowledge of the letter Alison had written to him. 'We said 'look, your sister is up s*** creek – don't get yourself in trouble by withholding evidence. 'We're staying at this hotel with a pub attached to it. If you want to come along and have a pint tonight, you're welcome'.' The two officers were standing in the hotel bar's games room that evening, enjoying a game of pool when they were greeted by a familiar face – Richard. 'He appeared at the pub and said 'can I have a word? Here's the letter'.' As the two detectives sat down to read the letter over a pint, they realised it was dynamite. Not only did Anders directly implicate Roy Allen in the fraud – leaving them with little chance of evading conviction – it also implicated other mysterious parties outside of the relatively pedestrian world of the Aberdeen oil community. Anders wrote that Roy Allen had allegedly concocted the plan for the fraud with a man named Hajdin Sejdija. She claimed that, when it all went wrong and she arrived in Abu Dhabi, Mr Sejdija had accused her of double-crossing him. Anders wrote: 'Sejdija believed we had not gone through with the transfer or had transferred the money somewhere else using him as a (decoy). 'What precisely were we doing in Abu Dhabi if Roy and I had double-crossed him? That did not appear to be a question that occurred to him.' Reading this, the detectives were mystified. Who was Hajdin Sejdija? They would soon find out. A multi-millionaire wheeler-dealer in his native country, Mr Sejdija became a close ally of those within the Abu Dhabi royal family after he married a princess from the Emirates. Even today, Mr Sejdija boasts of his business acumen and of rubbing shoulders with Hollywood celebrities such as Cindy Crawford. Grampian Police wanted to speak with Mr Sejdija, but there was an 'international relations' problem. Because Mr Sejdija was so well connected with the Abu Dhabi royal family, the local police would not play ball with their Aberdeen counterparts. DC Moir said: 'Sejdija's name had come up several times. We thought 'who is this guy?'. 'We had made various requests to the police in Abu Dhabi to carry out inquiries and they just ignored them. 'So one day I'm in the canteen at Queen Street Station in Aberdeen and a phone call arrives. 'The voice says 'hello, it's Hajdin Sejdija'. I thought 'somebody is winding me up'.' But it was a legitimate call – and the two men arranged to meet at New Scotland Yard in London 24 hours later. DC Moir said: 'I was thinking this guy must have some resources to drop everything, jump on a plane and fly to London. 'The next day, Sejdija turned up, right from Heathrow and we interviewed him. 'His English was perfect. He spoke six languages. He was Albanian and explained that he worked for a sheikh. 'There was a claim he had married a princess within the Abu Dhabi royal family. 'He told us a story about buying this art collection and claimed he had no involvement in the fraud. 'Sejdija was clearly a guy who was used to clicking his fingers and getting things done. 'He was such an arrogant individual that he thought we would just believe him.' Expressing his opinion at the time, DC Moir said: 'I told Sejdija 'I don't believe a word you're speaking – you're speaking a lot of s***e'. I got quite vocal with him. 'As a detective, you're used to sitting in interview rooms with people denying things and you know they are lying through their teeth. 'He went away.' But one thing the investigators knew was that the £23m Britoil funds were supposed to be channelled through a Swiss bank account. Again, 'international relations' were a barrier, as it was common for Swiss financial institutions to protect clients even when the police came knocking at their door. DC Moir said: 'But eventually they gave us information about the account where the Britoil millions had been headed. 'It had been opened by a man named Philippe Perrault.' Mr Perrault, who was 53 at the time, was a millionaire antiques and art collector hailing from the picturesque French town of Chartres, 60 miles outside of Paris. Grampian Police arranged to visit him. 'Via Interpol, we set up a meeting with him. Myself and Detective Sergeant Peter Willox went out,' said DC Moir. He added: 'Right at the outset, our thought was, 'who owns this bank account? How was it set up? How did it play a role in facilitating this crime?' 'This was part of that process. 'We flew to Paris and a guy there from the Financial Judiciary met us. 'They were having lunch in their headquarters – a fancy French building. 'You could have steak, you got a jug of wine with your lunch and then you got a brandy with dessert. 'Normally, we had sloppy sausage and mash at Queen Street. 'We were thinking, 'this French system is the way to go'. 'We went to see an examining magistrate in Chartres – a guy in a Lacoste t-shirt and blazer and he set up the interview with Philippe. 'The next day, he came into see us.' Again, a familiar name came up. DC Moir said: 'Mr Perrault told us Hajdin Sejdija was a business associate of his in Abu Dhabi. 'Sejdija had been interested in buying his art collection for £12m but to do that he needed a bank account set up. 'The claim was that Sejdija had suggested Mr Perrault should set up this bank account. 'During that meeting, Mr Perrault produced a video of his art collection. He knew what he was going to say to us. 'He was clearly quite a wealthy individual. 'All we really needed was him to say who told him to open this account. 'He said 'Hajdin Sejdija' – and that was our link.' And there was more. Grampian Police got a helping hand from Bucksburn woman Jill Ruddell, who had conducted business in Abu Dhabi. She knew a man named Omar Hammoud and arranged for police to speak with him in Aberdeen. Omar Hammoud was the right-hand man of Hajdin Sejdija in Abu Dhabi. Hammoud was his enforcer who would carry out instructions to the letter. The team of Aberdeen detectives were able to learn that, after Alison Anders had fled from the Granite City in the days following the fraud, she had a terrifying encounter with Hammoud. This was in the wake of Hajdin Sejdija getting angry because he believed Anders had double-crossed him and pocketed the £23m Britoil fraud proceeds. It was alleged Hajdin Sejdija wanted to send a clear message to Anders that he was not to be messed with. DC Moir said: 'Alison claimed Omar Hammoud took her out to the desert and pointed out where she would be buried if it turned out she double-crossed Sejdija. 'Hammoud admitted this happened, because he's been told to by Sejdija (to do it). 'My feeling was, it was 100% true. You know when you're taking statements from people if they're being genuine.' This new evidence completed the jigsaw puzzle for police. They now knew that, while Alison Anders and Roy Allen had concocted the £23m fraud, there were others involved. It seemed to them that Albanian moneyman Hajdin Sejdija had helped the Aberdeen pair set up the Swiss bank account where the Britoil funds would be channelled, so he could get a share of the spoils. Grampian Police knew they could, at least, issue a red notice through Interpol. This would, in theory, lead to Mr Sejdija being arrested if he stepped foot in Europe. Their hopes were slim, however, knowing his connections could get Sejdija off the hook. And that was if Sejdija even dared to set foot on European soil again. DC Moir said: 'We get a warrant granted for Hajdin Sejdija's arrest. 'He was based in Abu Dhabi, so it was sent via Interpol and it was totally ignored. 'Sejdija worked for the sheikh – he determines what happens. He is in charge.' But one day, Sejdija did indeed venture into Europe. The wheeler-dealer turned up in Switzerland, triggering the Interpol red notice. DC Moir got the call he had been waiting for on January 25 1990. 'Out of the blue, we got a call from the Swiss Police to say they have arrested him, as he has a house in Lugano in Switzerland,' said DC Moir. 'So DCI Bryan Bryce and I went to meet Sejdija in Zurich and we took him back to Aberdeen. 'They handed him over to us at the airport and we flew to London and then to Aberdeen.' The tables had turned – and it all led up to a final showdown that gripped the Granite City.
Press and Journal
28-04-2025
- Press and Journal
The Britoil Scandal: An astonishing crime in the Granite City that stretches halfway across the world
In Alison Anders' flat on Claremont Street in Aberdeen, Detective Sergeant Hamish Moir was meticulously scanning the environment around him. He had already spotted ashes in a fireplace, which provided cast-iron proof that Anders was involved in an audacious attempt to steal £23 million from her Rubislaw-based firm, Britoil. And then – DS Moir eyed something else. A notebook, with all the pages blank. On closer inspection, he noticed something else. Something unusual. An untrained mind would have missed it, but DS Moir's eagle eye was about to blow the case wide open. He noticed there were faint indentations in the notebook – the kind of marks made by a pen writing something on the previous page. Never one to leave a stone unturned, DS Moir sent the notebook away for analysis. The now-retired detective told us: 'We gave it to the Identification Bureau and it takes a while for the results to come back.' When the findings landed in Aberdeen CID's in-tray, detectives got their next big breakthrough. 'The indentation said 'Holiday Inn' and had a number next to it,' said DS Moir. It was logical for police to assume that the number denoted a particular Holiday Inn hotel. But figuring out which one was much trickier back in 1988. This was, of course before you could simply Google a search term and have your answer immediately. So detectives had to think smart. DS Moir said: 'I went out to the Holiday Inn at Dyce because the head of security there was someone I knew – a guy called Jimmy Ritchie who was a retired DCI. 'I said 'have you got a directory telling me what this number relates to?' and he nodded.' Mr Ritchie went away into a supply room and came back with a thick book, flicking the pages until finally, he found it. 'It's the Holiday Inn in Abu Dhabi'.' DS Moir said: 'Immediately – we knew that's where Alison would be. 'We later learned Anders had fled to Glasgow Airport and panicked before the afternoon flight to Amsterdam and so flew to Paris and on to Abu Dhabi.' Police were stunned for two reasons. First, people in the late 1980s didn't just pack up and go to the Middle East regularly. It was reserved for people who worked in the oil industry or who were rich enough to afford exotic holidays, not 29-year-old cashiers on low salaries. Second, police had been keeping tabs on Anders' passport – and it had not been used. Baffled, detectives pieced together what they knew in the hope it might help their investigation. DS Moir said: 'We knew she had gone, she hadn't got the fraud money, and she's in Abu Dhabi – so, what's the connection?' At this stage, it's worth saying that, though police saw this case as a top priority, they knew time wasn't a factor as it would be with other crimes. If a murderer is on the run, time is of the essence – but it's not the same with fraudsters. And if the case is under wraps, there isn't the same level of public pressure to make arrests as there would be if it were all over the papers. It took a week for the story to leak out of Britoil and on to the front pages of the Evening Express, though senior staff did their best to keep it in-house. News of this massive attempted embezzlement was all over the north-east, but it didn't draw out any new information for police. The next logical step for Grampian Police was to speak with Anders' parents, James and Elsie, who lived in a leafy part of Kent, in southern England. Initially, detectives told them they were concerned for their daughter's welfare. But the couple saw through that. 'They knew there was more to it, with detectives flying down,' said DS Moir. He added: 'They were a genuinely nice couple. 'Eventually, we told them what their daughter had done.' And then a new name entered the frame. Mr Anders, a retired adult education principal, told the officers sitting across from him in his living room that there was another person they might want to quiz. 'She had a bridge partner named Roy Allen – and they're maybe more than just bridge players,' Mr Anders told the police. That was the first time detectives had heard the name of Royston Darrell Allen, who was then 35. An athletic, outgoing ladies' man, five years older than Anders, Allen was popular around Aberdeen. He helped start the Granite City Oilers American Football team and was highly respected in the oil industry. Born in England, Allen had moved to Aberdeen in 1984 to become a partner in Atom UK, which did work for a number of firms, including Britoil. That meant he would often call in to the Britoil offices, passing Anders' desk. She found him funny and charismatic, and liked that he shared her love of bridge. There were feelings of mutual attraction, with one major problem. Allen was married with two children. That didn't put the pair off, though – and Allen would exploit a quirk of ambiguity to help him cheat on his wife, Megan, with Anders. Because Roy would say he was going 'to Al's house' – and Megan assumed 'Al' was a man, rather than Alison. After speaking with Anders' parents, police were keen to talk to Allen, but he was working offshore, so they awaited his return. In the meantime, detectives dug into Allen's business dealings – and found an interesting fact. DS Moir said: 'He was working in Abu Dhabi. 'He is there, we suspect Alison has gone there – that's the connection.' Upon his arrival, Allen was remarkably keen to speak with police, going to Queen Street straight from the airport. DS Moir said: 'Roy openly admitted that his regular bridge games with Alison were less about the bridge and more about the apres-bridge at Alison's flat. 'He was worried because his wife didn't know. 'Roy would have known he was in the firing line, but we didn't push him hard. 'I remember saying to (Det Insp) Peter Willox when Allen left 'What do you think – is Roy connected to all of this?' 'We both said 'I don't know – it's probably 50/50'. 'Roy came across as a guy you could go for a pint with, a nice guy. 'Roy claimed to know nothing about the crime. 'We had to put that aspect of the inquiry on hold for the time being.' With no evidence of Roy's involvement, police could not arrest him. And there was still no sign of Anders using her passport. All detectives could do was instruct Interpol to put Anders on a red notice – so she would be arrested when her passport was used – and hope. DS Moir said: 'Everything kind of went cold with the investigation. 'In terms of priority, the fraudsters hadn't got the money, there was no repeated offending, and it was white-collar crime. 'This wasn't a 'serial killer on the loose' situation.' Another factor was that the Britoil fraud took place a week before one of the worst disasters in the region's history. On July 6, 1988, the Piper Alpha oil platform exploded 120 miles off the coast of Aberdeen. The tragedy resulted in the deaths of 167 people. It was a tragedy that stunned the region, overwhelming hospitals and inundated CID. DS Moir said: 'At that time, Piper Alpha had happened. 'So there was a huge amount, maybe 75% of the guys on CID were put on to that investigation. 'There were limited resources to deal with other crimes, so low priorities were put to the side.' As winter arrived, investigators had no new leads, so they used a tried-and-tested method that was very much of its time. While today, police appeal on Facebook, the 1980s boasted a highly effective equivalent. DS Moir said: 'We went to Crimewatch.' Watched at one stage by a quarter of Brits, this monthly BBC show profiled notorious criminals and appealed for information. The often sinister-looking mugshots and ominous reconstructions led to presenter Nick Ross ending each show with the catchphrase: 'Don't have nightmares, do sleep well'. As the episode was screened, officers would man phones in the London studio, eager for people to crack their cases. The episode lasted 45 minutes, and the Britoil segment lasted 30 seconds. It was so short because of Crown Office restrictions. Prosecutors, of course, want a conviction. But they also don't want to give too much information away during the investigation that could prejudice a jury or help a criminal go free later. DS Moir said: 'The Crimewatch mention was organised by DCI Harry Milne through contacts at the BBC. 'We went on to say, 'We want to see this woman'. The show was massively popular at the time and, had she been in the country, somebody would have seen her,' DS Moir. 'I was in the studio in London and we had two guys sitting in the major incident unit at Queen Street in Aberdeen.' While the matter at hand was deadly serious, DS Moir recalled being concerned about the BBC's level of hospitality. He said: 'In the green room, there is a bar and food. 'You do a rehearsal, then go back and there's more drink and you're thinking 'don't drink too much because you have to answer these phones – and you can't leave the studio to go to the toilet'.' Alison Anders' face was screened to the nation, but the response was modest. DS Moir said: 'We got four calls from people saying things like 'I saw her at a chip shop in such a place' – total nonsense. 'What it confirmed to us was that she wasn't in the UK. 'The show was massively popular at the time and, had she been in the country, somebody would have seen her. 'We deduced she must be overseas and must have got there somewhere that wouldn't show up on the system.' While Anders was overseas, Roy Allen was still in the UK. And things were not good in his personal life in the spring of 1989, almost a year after the £23m Britoil fraud attempt. Allen's wife, Megan, found out about his affair with Anders and left him. DS Moir said: 'One day I came into the office and my colleague said 'Megan Allen and David Nance are here for you – they are now in a relationship'.' David Nance was Roy Allen's business partner. Allen had found out that Mr Nance was seeing his estranged wife, Megan. In comments disputed by Megan and Mr Nance, DS Moir said: 'There had been fighting and arguing. 'David was staying in a caravan at Hazlehead, and Roy had gone up and threatened to kill him. '(Megan and David) came in to see us because they were scared. They wanted Roy locked up.' Though it has been disputed, DS Moir claimed it was this alleged personal disagreement between Megan and David and Roy that led to a massive breakthrough in the Britoil fraud case. DS Moir told us: 'Megan and David said 'we think Roy was involved with Alison in this fraud'. 'They said 'over the year since the £23m Britoil fraud, Roy has received phone calls in the office from a woman who has given her name as Ann Killick'. 'Megan had taken one of the calls and recognised Alison's voice and thought 'something isn't right here'. 'They suspected the woman using the name Ann Killick was Alison Anders.' Detectives were confused by this new information – but elated. 'I was thinking 'yes, here we go – this is opening things up. Let's go from here',' said DS Moir. Today, Dr David Nance and Megan are married. They are directors in Balmedie-based Keir Developments Ltd. In a statement, Dr Nance categorically denied DS Moir's version of events. Dr Nance said: 'At no time did Roy Allen threaten to kill or in any way harm Megan or myself, and the police contacted us first regarding the attempted fraud. 'At this point, we were both unaware of Roy's involvement.' Beyond that, the couple have chosen not to comment for this series. There is no suggestion that either of them played any role in the Britoil fraud or had any knowledge of it before it became public. However it came about, though, Grampian Police had their breakthrough. Here was an allegation that Roy Allen had been receiving secret phone calls from a mystery woman named Ann Killick – and that woman might just be the fugitive Alison Anders. These phone calls were received at Roy Allen's office, and so detectives got a warrant to search it. That would lead to a spectacular development.
Press and Journal
27-04-2025
- Business
- Press and Journal
The Britoil Scandal: A £23m fraud on the streets of Aberdeen
On a warm summer's afternoon in 1988, 29-year-old Alison Anders walked along Castle Street in Aberdeen clutching a piece of paper that would change her life forever. She entered the Bank of Scotland branch, approached the counter and handed over the document, before walking out and heading back to the office. What seemed at the time to be an innocent clerical errand was to spark a worldwide manhunt – and the astonishing drama surrounding it was just beginning. Over the course of a year, detectives would crack a series of bizarre clues to track down the mystery of who tried to steal £23 million from a north-east oil firm, how they managed to get away and why they exploited the death of a young girl. It is a tale of an Albanian businessman, French antique dealers, American florists and the Abu Dhabi royal family – and an adulterous north-east couple on a quest to start a new life in Brazil. This is the story of the Britoil scandal – Scotland's biggest-ever fraud case. After Alison Anders returned to the Rubislaw offices of Britoil on that Tuesday afternoon in late June 1988, nothing was out of place. The confident, clever 5ft 4in woman, who worked as a senior accounts assistant in the finance department, left work for the day and came back for duty again the next morning – her 30th birthday. But on that day, there was a problem. Speaking publicly for the first time about the case, Ian Adie – Britoil's financial accountant at the time – describes what happened that day. He told us: 'We got a call from a clerk at the bank named May Hall, who asked why there was extra information on the document Alison had taken into the branch the previous day.' That document was an application to transfer £23,331,996.95 from Britoil to another account. And the extra information urged the bank to process the payment quickly. Mr Adie added: 'I thought it was strange because the payment was for a lease payment on an oil platform and we couldn't pay it until two other payments from other oil companies had been made. 'I said something like 'once we have all three amounts, payment won't take long, anyway, because it's going into a domestic account, in London. 'The cashier replied: 'No, this is an international transfer'.' At that stage, Britoil staff thought there had merely been a mix-up. With the internet still years off – the main method of exchanging business documents, besides mail, was fax. And so Britoil bosses asked the bank to fax through a copy of the document Anders had given to them. After receiving the fax, Mr Adie felt something was off. With an abundance of caution, he faxed back a letter to the bank instructing them to 'under no circumstances' transfer the money. Mr Adie thought the simplest solution was to simply start the payment process from scratch. An ever-diligent accountant, Mr Adie was used to dealing with sensitive financial matters in his role at Britoil – a massive firm that employed around 1,800 staff at the time. He was careful to speak on the phone to the bank in hushed tones, so colleagues would not overhear and get the wrong end of the stick. And yet, despite that, the only person in the office to react in a peculiar way was Alison Anders. 'Around that time, Alison came back from the bathroom in the office and said to me, 'I don't feel well',' said Mr Adie. A highly intelligent and calculated individual, Anders was using the cunning she had honed in her decade as an adult. She arrived in the north-east of Scotland in the late 1970s, determined to share in the riches of the booming oil industry in the Granite City. Still in her early 20s, Anders, a Lancaster University archaeology graduate, moved into a flat in Aberdeen's Claremont Street. She made friends with local woman Anne Mason – now Anne Sprunt – and the pair went climbing and played bridge together at Westburn Park Lounge. And it was that very game that would get Anders into so much trouble that she had to tell her boss she was sick. Recalling his reaction to her sudden illness right after the £23m payment was queried, Mr Adie said: 'It's strange, looking back, because – at that point we had absolutely no idea what was really going on.' 'In fact, it was Alison's birthday and I think we'd all clubbed together to buy her a gift – maybe a cake.' Being a good boss, Mr Adie was sympathetic to Anders' sudden bout of ill health and gave her a lift home, a 10-minute drive away. Anders usually got the bus to work or walked. Mr Adie said: 'I drove her back. I can't remember what was said on the journey. 'Maybe just small talk about the fact it was her birthday, and maybe some sympathy that her plans to celebrate might be scuppered if she was feeling unwell.' Then something even more peculiar happened Mr Adie said: 'I dropped Alison off and, as I was driving away, I saw her running down the road gesturing at me. 'She said that she'd forgotten the key to her flat door and her handbag, so I took her back to the office. 'Once we got back to the office, I was prepared to give Alison a lift back home. 'Instead, she told me 'I'll get a taxi home, don't worry' and off she went.' And that was that. 'The next time I would see her would be 14 months later in the dock of a court room,' recalled Mr Adie. Anders' lawyer, Jack Davidson KC, described how his client had been so close to processing the £23m payment order – and pocketing the funds. 'Anders was very close to achieving the unachievable – she really was,' said Mr Davidson. He added: 'When the bank staff in Glasgow raised the questions about the money transfer, all hell was let loose in Britoil offices.' Back in Rubislaw, a crisis meeting was taking place. Still baffled by the strange international transfer request, Mr Adie decided to consult the top brass at Britoil. He conferred with the company's two directors, William Docherty and Neil Smith, about the strange events of that morning. The three of them were relieved they nipped the problem in the bud before the payment could be made. But they were left scratching their heads about how it had happened. Mr Adie said: 'It wasn't immediately that we began to suspect Alison because the priority was stopping the payment and keeping the matter between the three of us.' It is important to appreciate the massive sums of money Britoil staff dealt with back then. Workers based at the Rubislaw office would routinely deal with eye-watering amounts, and so, rather than going to the bank – bank staff would go to them, as an added layer of security and privacy. Those visits would be at the same time on the same day each week. That meant, on one hand, all Britoil staff knew the routine and could depend on it. But on the other hand, it meant that anyone who wished to exploit the routine for their own underhanded ends could do so. Mr Adie said: 'I was talking with Mr Docherty and Mr Smith. 'We established that the payment document requesting £23m be transferred had not been given to the Bank of England staff when they did their regular visits to the office. 'That in itself was out of the ordinary. 'And then we established who handed it in – Alison Anders. 'That, combined with her sudden sickness, made us suspect her. 'And I started thinking, when she told me that she needed to go back to the office because she'd forgotten something, that must have been for a specific reason. 'Maybe to get rid of some evidence. 'I can't be sure, but I suspect Alison probably had a pad of paper where she had been practising forged signatures.' With evidence mounting against Anders, there was only one thing left for the Britoil bosses to do. 'We called in the police,' said Mr Adie. First on the scene was Detective Sergeant Hamish Moir, of Aberdeen CID, based at Queen Street. For this series, the now-retired police officer has lifted the lid on the case for the first time. He said: 'I got a message to call from Detective Chief Inspector Harry Milne. 'He said 'can you come back to the office? There's an attempted fraud here – £23m'. 'It was the highest-value fraud ever reported in a Scottish court. Mr Moir added: 'I went to Britoil and went to see the director, Mr Docherty. 'They told me what had gone on. 'It was kept very much between Mr Docherty and Mr Adie. Nobody else knew what was going on. 'Had the fraud been a success, they might not have reported it.' The former detective revealed that a seemingly innocuous message that Anders had written on top of the document to convince bank staff it was legitimate was to prove her downfall. He said: 'She had written 'URGENT! on top of the document. 'Without that, the payment would have gone through.' 'If Britoil had actually lost £23m, the bosses would have been concerned about how the general public and investors would have viewed their financial-security measures and probably kept it all quiet.' In any event, Britoil did call in detectives, and DS Moir got to work. As DS Moir asked questions at Britoil's Rubislaw office, a clear picture began to emerge that Alison Anders was in over her head. He said: 'Alison forged both signatures on the document. 'The Britoil staff tried to contact Alison – phoning her on the landline at her flat and then calling at her flat, but there was nobody there. 'She'd gone – her bottle had crashed and she disappeared.' The dramatic first day of one of the north-east's biggest-ever criminal investigations revved up. And the next morning, it was showtime. DS Moir said: 'We got a search warrant for Alison Anders' home in Claremont Street. 'By that stage, we thought there was a possibility she might have taken her own life. 'Myself and Detective Inspector Peter Willox forced our way into the house. 'The drawers were empty. There was no suitcase. It was clear that she had gone somewhere.' In this situation, most people walking about what was a normal-looking flat would not have noticed anything of note around them. But detectives are trained to notice and question every single detail, no matter how small. And, for DS Moir, one thing stuck out. He said: 'I noticed ashes in the fireplace – I found a bit of paper that hadn't burned properly.' Printed on this scrap of paper was a bank-transfer serial number. DS Moir said: 'The serial number matched the transfer document. 'That confirmed 100% that Anders had been involved in this attempted fraud.' Fearing discovery – and prison – Anders had fled. But to where? It suddenly occurred to her colleagues that the timing of this audacious crime was not random. Anders had indeed chosen to commit attempted fraud on June 29 1988 for a very particular reason – it was her 30th birthday. Back then, air travel wasn't as frequent or as last-minute. People wouldn't just pack a bag for a city break as budget airlines and internet travel deals were a thing of the future. Any trips required a visit to a travel agent or airport booking desk – and lots of money. And so when people jetted off, it caught the attention of others. If you told your friends you had booked a flight, it would stick in their minds as out of the ordinary, particularly if they were to be quizzed by police about it later. But if you booked flights for your 30th birthday, that would be the perfect cover. It turned out that, a week earlier, Alison Anders had gone into a travel agency in Aberdeen and bought a one-way ticket to Amsterdam for £149. Anders had calculated that, had the fraud been a success and lain undiscovered for a few days, nobody would have thought it unusual for her to be enjoying her birthday abroad. But police had no idea where she really was – until a fantastic piece of detective work gifted them an astonishing piece of information.
