father’s
death?’
‘What possible connection could it
have? He said it was a
coincidence. There was no more to
it than that.’
In my experience there is always more
to it than that. And you can
always read more into these things than is strictly necessary. Over the years I had investigated
hundreds of quite serious and complex police complaints that turned out to be
what I termed ‘honest fabrications’—people reading too much into the actions
of officers. True, sometimes the
accusations were malicious or revengeful in intent but most of them were based
on sincerely held beliefs. Television drama encourages us to look for intent that, in most cases,
just isn’t there. Thankfully, life
is not like TV. But even though
you know this, I thought, even though you know there is probably nothing to it,
you still have to investigate the facts as they are presented to you.
In this case, they were as follows:
1. A disappears at sea after buying a boat
from B.
2. B is accused of not showing a duty of
care to A, who is an inexperienced sailor.
3. B investigates A’s disappearance which
B thinks is not due to inexperience at all, but foul play—as A’s company
is going through some kind of corporate merger or hostile take-over.
4. B is killed under suspicious
circumstances. The police computer
flags the two events or crimes as linked in some way and yet the police does
not seem investigate either case, despite having sound leads.
I looked at my notes, got myself
another beer and read them again.
A’s
company is going through some kind of corporate merger…
I closed the document and took the iPad
over to the sofa. I lay back and
rested the screen on my chest, as Clara used to. With numb fingers, I punched in the words ‘Prajapati’ and ‘Merger’
to see what I got.
Sunil
Prajapati’s company was called PiTech and it was registered in Mumbai. Its main manufacturing base was in
Crawley, West Sussex. From the
available information it seemed it made surveillance devices for the military
and security forces. It had been
in the news most recently owing to the developing of biodegradable or ‘born to
die’ implants that gradually disappeared after prolonged contact with water. I watched a promotional video of a
scientist feeding pipette droplets onto a circuit board the size of a
fingernail. Although it was just
water being dripped onto the circuit, the effect was like acid. The chip fizzed and unpeeled before my
eyes. In thirty seconds it looked
like someone had stepped on a very small snail. The microchip sat in its own pool of green gunk.
I read on for an hour, fascinated by
both the science—how out of date I was !— and
the increasing number of business reports appearing about PiTech. How the company had attracted the
attention of some bigger defence contractors in the USA and China. How concern was expressed in some
quarters—of the UK media that is—that PiTech had ‘significant
contracts’ with the Ministry of Defence. Most recently an FT report talking about the
possibility of a hostile takeover from a Russian company, Vassiliov Holdings.
All fascinating stuff. All very hi-tech at PiTech. At some point I fell asleep.
It
was after midnight when my daughter rang. I couldn’t see the clock but it was still dark and she said she was
having breakfast. Hong Kong time. I was not sure if I had nodded off or not. Clara’s voice came through the veils of sleep like a
memory. I imagined her sitting on
her tiny balcony having a coffee before she went to work.
‘Hi, Papa! Mum’s not picking up. Is everything okay?’
For a moment I was struck by
panic—like I needed to go and check—before I remembered Meg did not
live with me anymore.
‘I think she’s away. At a conference with Professor Plum.’
Clara laughed and adopted a
mock-serious tone. ‘ Doctor
death?’
‘What possible connection could it
have? He said it was a
coincidence. There was no more to
it than that.’
In my experience there is always more
to it than that. And you can
always read more into these things than is strictly necessary. Over the years I had investigated
hundreds of quite serious and complex police complaints that turned out to be
what I termed ‘honest fabrications’—people reading too much into the actions
of officers. True, sometimes the
accusations were malicious or revengeful in intent but most of them were based
on sincerely held beliefs. Television drama encourages us to look for intent that, in most cases,
just isn’t there. Thankfully, life
is not like TV. But even though
you know this, I thought, even though you know there is probably nothing to it,
you still have to investigate the facts as they are presented to you.
In this case, they were as follows:
1. A disappears at sea after buying a boat
from B.
2. B is accused of not showing a duty of
care to A, who is an inexperienced sailor.
3. B investigates A’s disappearance which
B thinks is not due to inexperience at all, but foul play—as A’s company
is going through some kind of corporate merger or hostile take-over.
4. B is killed under suspicious
circumstances. The police computer
flags the two events or crimes as linked in some way and yet the police does
not seem investigate either case, despite having sound leads.
I looked at my notes, got myself
another beer and read them again.
A’s
company is going through some kind of corporate merger…
I closed the document and took the iPad
over to the sofa. I lay back and
rested the screen on my chest, as Clara used to. With numb fingers, I punched in the words ‘Prajapati’ and ‘Merger’
to see what I got.
Sunil
Prajapati’s company was called PiTech and it was registered in Mumbai. Its main manufacturing base was in
Crawley, West Sussex. From the
available information it seemed it made surveillance devices for the military
and security forces. It had been
in the news most recently owing to the developing of biodegradable or ‘born to
die’ implants that gradually disappeared after prolonged contact with water. I watched a promotional video of a
scientist feeding pipette droplets onto a circuit board the size of a
fingernail. Although it was just
water being dripped onto the circuit, the effect was like acid. The chip fizzed and unpeeled before my
eyes. In thirty seconds it looked
like someone had stepped on a very small snail. The microchip sat in its own pool of green gunk.
I read on for an hour, fascinated by
both the science—how out of date I was !— and
the increasing number of business reports appearing about PiTech. How the company had attracted the
attention of some bigger defence contractors in the USA and China. How concern was expressed in some
quarters—of the UK media that is—that PiTech had ‘significant
contracts’ with the Ministry of Defence. Most recently an FT report talking about the
possibility of a hostile takeover from a Russian company, Vassiliov Holdings.
All fascinating stuff. All very hi-tech at PiTech. At some point I fell asleep.
It
was after midnight when my daughter rang. I couldn’t see the clock but it was still dark and she said she was
having breakfast. Hong Kong time. I was not sure if I had nodded off or not. Clara’s voice came through the veils of sleep like a
memory. I imagined her sitting on
her tiny balcony having a coffee before she went to work.
‘Hi, Papa! Mum’s not picking up. Is everything okay?’
For a moment I was struck by
panic—like I needed to go and check—before I remembered Meg did not
live with me anymore.
‘I think she’s away. At a conference with Professor Plum.’
Clara laughed and adopted a
mock-serious tone. ‘ Doctor
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