The Karl Lehman Affair

by Jonathan R Hayes

  ‘It’s interesting you call it iDrug and refer to it as a device?’

  ‘iDrug is a device, not a drug, confusing I know.’

  ‘What about existing patent rights Karl Lehman and you own?’

  ‘I’m seeking legal advice on this. Any licences and patent protections that Lehmann and Philips SA own will pass to Karl’s wife, Nicole. As I explained earlier, I’m only a junior partner in the Company. I was hoping by moving operations to Russia and reconfiguring iDrug, a new patent application could be filed jointly by me and a new partner.’

  ‘This is very interesting, Martin. There is indeed much to discuss.’

  ‘Indeed, there is. But be mindful that Ms. Lehman is about to sign a major deal with a large multinational medical device company to commercialize and manufacture iDrug. The only thing stopping her is incomplete documentation and live samples of iDrug.’

  ‘How should we proceed then, Martin?’

  ‘I suggest we both go away and consider how we could co-operate together and then formulate a detailed plan. I believe Dmitri, you are at least six months away from making any significant technical breakthrough. I can reduce that time to three, if we join forces.’

  A faint smile appeared on Obolensky’s face. A short time later both men stood up, shook hands before they left together for lunch at a top restaurant close to the university.

  Philips was very happy things had proceeded so well. Over lunch he had been able to convince Obolensky that working together was the best strategy and this would achieve results much quicker than Obolensky working on his own.

  Philips kept secret that he already had produced small quantities of the game changing iDrug at the laboratory in Zurich. All samples, bar one small glass vial, were lost in the fire. Lack of a physical sample could stop the sale of iDrug.

  Being in possession of the only surviving sample, Philips intended to leverage this situation to his best advantage with Nicole Lehman. He was holding the trump card.

  After lunch, he stood up, shook hands and bade farewell to Prof. Obolensky. He returned to his hotel and deposited his briefcase in his room before embarking on a sight-seeing tour of Moscow on a double decker open top bus.

  After a two-hour bus ride around the city and as dusk approached, he stepped off the coach and walked down the street to hail a taxi. He never noticed a man dressed in dark navy clothes alighting from the lower deck and starting to follow him.

  43

  Colgo was working out in the gym at his Judo Club near Time Square in NYC. He was pumping iron vigorously lying on his back on a weights machine. Breathing deeply and perspiring profusely he opened his eyes through a haze of sweat and saw his brother staring down at him.

  ‘Hey Domo, what you doin’ here?’

  ‘Where have you been all week?

  Stopping his exercise and sitting up, Colgo grabbed a towel and started patting his face. ‘I had some important business to take care of for some new clients.’

  ‘For Fuck sake Colgo, I’m tryin’ to run a business.’

  ‘I know brother. I’m back now.’

  ‘I hope you haven’t got mixed up with that ‘family’ again.’

  The brothers had a dysfunctional upbringing, living in slum conditions as children where their father regularly beat-up their mother during drunken rages. Sick of his father’s abusive behavior, Colgo left home when he was sixteen, lived rough on the streets for a period before inevitably encountering organized crime. His powerful physique and psychopathic personality propelled him up the ranks in a large underworld crime family. By the age of twenty-four he had established himself as a tough and reliable hit man. His luck ran out one evening however when he was caught on CCTV outside a night club seriously roughing up a member of a rival gang. The club owners were legitimate businessmen and sent the video tapes to the Police. Colgo got a two year stretch in the slammer for grievous bodily harm. When he got out, Domo helped to rehabilitate him and offered him a proper day job. The brother ran a very successful parcel delivery business and had twenty or more delivery vans on the road. He was more level headed than his younger brother and better able to put his difficult childhood behind him. Colgo on the other hand had many hang-ups and a seriously screwed-up personality.

  ‘I told yah I cut my ties with dat family Domo. I’m now workin’ for very respectable clients, one of dem is a big stockbroker for fuck sake.’

  ‘For your sake, I sure hope so brother! Now when can I expect to see you back at the depot?’

  ‘I’ll be back der Monday without fail!’

  44

  Philips reached a taxi rank and found a long queue of young people waiting for taxis. He decided it was quicker to walk the ten or fifteen minutes back to his hotel.

  He briskly made his way along a quiet side street. Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him quickening in pace and getting closer. He looked over his shoulder and saw a man in dark clothes with a menacing expression gaining on him. Philips first thoughts were to run. Starting to panic he sought immediate refuge, entering the very next door off the street and finding himself inside a massage parlor.

  He stopped momentarily and stared around at a group of scantily clad ladies lying on leather couches positioned around a red and gold colored reception area. He instinctively moved towards a black painted door at the rear, hoping it might be an escape route

  ‘Is there a back way out of here?’ shouted Philips.

  ‘Sure, ‘miliy moy’. But let’s half a little fun first,’ tempted a busty young masseuse seductively.

  Before another word was uttered, the man in the dark clothes burst through the front door. He was a burly figure and moved incredibly fast. Seeing Philips disappearing through the black door he ran after him. The predator quickly caught up with Philips in the back hallway trying to operate a push-bar on an emergency exit door. The brawny stranger pulled a Garrote from his coat pocket, piano wire with handles attached at each end. He grabbed the much smaller Philips from behind, wrapped the piano wire around his neck and started pulling vigorously on the handles. Philips tried to let out a scream while he struggled to free himself. The wire was starting to cut into his skin as he struggled to breathe, and his eyes started to bulge. He was now in a high state of agonizing terror, his life started to flash before his eyes. He felt any second, he was going to lose consciousness. He tried to pull the man’s arms away, but he couldn’t budge them; the man was much too strong. In a flash he heard a woman scream followed by the sound of what he thought was delf smashing onto the floor. He immediately felt the strangler’s grip slacken.

  Philips looked around and saw the dark clothed stranger collapsing to the floor. The ‘Madam’ had smashed a heavy earthenware jug over his head. Philips sank to his knees on the ground, breathing heavily while rubbing his neck. The front of his throat was bleeding but only from a superficial wound. He staggered up and started to walk towards a rear door.

  He looked around and saw the masseuse standing over the burly figure lying out-cold on the ground.

  ‘Thank you. Call the police immediately’ gasped Philips before he disappeared out the door finding himself in a narrow back lane. He ran for his life through a labyrinth of small streets finally emerging back onto the high street. He hailed down a taxi in the middle of the road, jumped in and quickly made his escape back to his hotel.

  Once in his room, Philips went straight to his ensuite to attend to his injuries. He found a small first aid box in the medicine cabinet and stuck a plaster under his Adams apple. Severely shaken by his experience he lay down on the bed and tried to get some sleep.

  His great plans to launch a competitor to iDrug suffered a major dent by this attack. The next morning Philips left the hotel and went straight to the ticket desk at Domodedovo airport and changed his itinerary. He later boarded a plane to London hoping to lie low for a couple of days. He had an elderly aunt living in Lambeth whom he would go and visit, the last surviving member of his immediate family living in London.

&
nbsp; During the flight he opened his brief case and discreetly removed a small highly ornate wooden box. Holding it in his hands, close to his chest, he looked inside and smiled with satisfaction. He quickly snapped it closed again before anyone could catch a glimpse inside.

  45

  In New York City, Bill Johnson stormed into Lazare’s 42nd floor office unannounced. Lazare was in the middle of composing an urgent email on his computer. It was totally unlike his boss not to knock first. He knew immediately something serious was up. Johnson crossed the room and loomed over him like a lion standing over its prey. Johnson’s face was white, his eyes narrowed and fixed on Lazare. He was noticeably trembling and breathing heavily. His normal, smooth, controlled demeanor was completely absent.

  ‘Are you ok Bill?’ Lazare asked looking up from his desk with an alarmed expression.

  ‘I spoke to Westland-Fitzgerald earlier this morning about Lehman & Philips SA. They tell me Lehman was killed in suspicious circumstances in a traffic accident six weeks ago and his research facility was burned to the ground ten days ago. What do you know about all this?’

  ‘Nothing!’ replied Lazare resolutely.

  Lazare looked blankly at Johnson and kept a cool head. He did not give any impression of being fazed by Johnson’s question. He knew his boss at the best of times didn’t trust him. He also knew the Texan had received some confidential reports some years back about his connections with organized crime. At the time it was raised, Lazare was able to lie about these reports saying yes, he came from a poor neighborhood in NYC and yes, he had grown up with some tough characters that had become involved in organized crime, but he had taken a different route out of the slum.

  ‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about Lehman?’ shouted Johnson getting exasperated. The idea that someone would use criminal connections to facilitate business transactions was a complete anathema to him.

  ‘Telling you Lehman was dead might have sent out the wrong signals in Cordalis-MC Holdings that the perceived threat from Lehman & Philips was over. No more worries. Well it’s not over and all the research data has survived on CDs. It’s anybody’s guess what Lehman’s surviving partner will do with the data, probably try to re-kick start iDrug.’

  Johnson looked sharply at Lazare. ‘I thought you bought his silence.’

  ‘I did. This represents some of the costs you’re talking about in the cost report. But the …’

  ‘Don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining.’

  Lazare looked suitably forlorn. ‘I’m not lying. I’m shocked to hear about the fire at Lehman’s Research Centre.’

  ‘I don’t like you. I don’t trust you Lazare,’ snapped Johnson interrupting him in mid-stream. ‘I don’t like what you stand for. I‘ve been deeply suspicious of you right from the start. I may as well tell you I tried to veto your appointment at the time but was over ruled by the board of this company. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were connected somehow with these events in Zurich. I’m cancelling the specialist Wall Street Advisors meeting tomorrow morning and holding a Board Meeting instead to discuss your future with this firm.’

  Johnson immediately stormed out of his office leaving the door open behind him.

  Lazare crossed the room, closed the door and sat down at his desk and tried to come to terms with the situation that had just unfolded. He knew if Johnson called a board meeting the following day, the game was up. This meant his career was over at Cordalis-MC Holdings. He was not about to let anything like that happen. The game plan had been to control any early breaking brilliance by Lehman & Philips until Cordalis-MC Holdings off-loaded stock.

  Lazare didn’t underestimate Philips either. He considered him an ambitious academic on the one hand and a hungry determined businessman on the other who won’t allow a temporary setback such as losing his research facility or his partner for that matter to stand in his way, especially now he was at the cusp of a major scientific breakthrough. Philips holds all the cards now that his senior partner is out of the picture.

  ‘This is another job for Colgo and Bonnet,’ decided Lazare. He also realized Johnson would be keeping a more focused eye on proceedings from now on. He knew when Philips or Nicole Lehman needed to be removed, he feared Johnson would be on to him faster than a one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition.

  Lazare felt like a cornered rat. His innate sense of self-preservation was moving into overdrive. He picked up the phone and called Larchet.

  ‘Peter! I need to meet for coffee ASAP. ‘

  Lazare left the office and met his lifelong friend at one of their regular venues in downtown Manhattan.

  ‘Henri! It’s really coincidental you called when you did.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Philips is on his way back from a trip to Moscow’

  ‘Who was the prick visiting?’

  ‘Bonnet’s contacts at Passport Control confirmed Philips went to visit somebody at the Moscow Medical Academy. Something else too, before Jacques Bonnet’s men torched the research Building, Colgo told me they found a bunch of personal papers belonging to Philips.’

  ‘Yeah? Go on!’

  ‘Apparently Philips has an apartment in Villefranche on the Côte d’Azur.’

  ‘Interesting! So now we know where this fucker is most likely holed up. Great timing Peter. Now listen carefully. I have some immediate work for your boys here on our doorstep. How is Colgo these days?’

  ‘He’s as eager as ever to help out, Henri,’

  On the side, when not working at Domo’s place, Colgo always found time to make himself available when Lazare or Larchet called. He much preferred the ‘physical’ type of work compared to his new day job.

  Lazare grew to trust him over time and lately had come to depend on him more to carryout whatever dirty work arose.

  ‘Good! I have a job for him I’m sure he’ll enjoy.’

  46

  Philips slowly raised his head and looked up at the familiar high altar of St. Gregory’s Cathedral near Lambeth in London, England. He was kneeling in a pew deep in prayer. He used to sit there every week as a child praying with his family during Sunday Church Service. The cathedral was now empty save for a few faithful parishioners dotted about, seated in pews, deep in holy meditation. One or two fumbled with rosary beads while they prayed.

  The atmosphere was solemn, comforting, just what he needed after his horrific night in Moscow. His whole perspective on life had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Now he just wanted to stay alive. Launching a competitor to iDrug would have to wait a little while longer. At least until he regained his confidence. He was extremely worried about the box he was carrying in his inside pocket. What if he had been followed to London? His life could be in danger. He sat back up on the seat and slowly looked around. A faint glimmer of a smile appeared on his face when his eyes fixed on a certain part of the church.

  47

  Parker left Grasmere early in the morning for London. When he got to his office Jane was waiting in the reception area ready to give him a big hug.

  ‘Welcome back, Dr. Parker. Wow! You have a great color.’

  He protested his innocence. ‘I don’t know how. I certainly haven’t been lying on any beaches. Now tell me all about the stalker.’

  ‘Well I noticed this very well-dressed man following me on Wednesday from the end of the street to the office. I didn’t think much more about it at the time.’

  ‘Ok’ said Parker listening with empathy.

  ‘As I was leaving the office the next evening, Thursday, I saw the man standing under a streetlamp a short distance down the road. I’m sure it was the same person. He followed me until I jumped on a bus at the end of the street. The next thing I get a call late on Friday evening from the security company saying there had been an attempted break-in at the front door. Someone trying to force the door, set off the security alarm.’

  ‘Did you call the police?’

  ‘No. I thought I had better contact you first.’
/>   ‘Well done Jane. You did the right thing. I don’t think we’ll trouble the police with this just yet,’ he said cautiously.

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘Call the property management company and ask them to immediately install a CCTV camera at the front door.’

  ‘Ok. I’ll take care of that this morning.’

  “In the meantime, I’ll contact an old friend who runs a security firm. I’ll get them to provide 24/7 surveillance over the next couple of weeks.’

  Parker went to his desk and took care of a full in-tray of documents and scanned down the list of people who were looking for him over the last ten days.

  One name on the list stood out…. Professor Obolensky!

  ‘Jane? Did Professor Obolensky say where he was from? This number looks like he was calling from Russia?’ ‘No calls from French police at least.’

  ‘Yes, Professor Obolensky called towards the end of last week. Sounded Russian. He mentioned something about a former friend of yours, Professor Lehman.’

  ‘Go on!’

  ‘He said he had been contacted by a former partner of Prof Lehman’s, a Dr. Philips.

  ‘Thank you, Jane. I will call him at once.’

  He immediately dialed the number on Jane’s list.

  ‘Good Morning. I wish to speak to Professor Dmitri Obolensky,’

  After a short delay and to his surprise the Russian female telephonist responded in a strong Russian accent but in perfect English.

  ‘I’ll put you through to professor Obolensky.’

  ‘Harry Parker from London. You phoned me last week.’

  ‘Ah! Dr. Parker. Yes, I called you last week as I believe you were a good friend of the late Karl Lehman.?’

  ‘Yes! That is quite correct, Professor. Karl and I knew one another professionally for many years, attended many international medical conferences together.’