by Rory Pralte
“Michael was in the big league of pay-offs for the business he was doing.“ Kanji Toba paused and looked at his watch. “I have another appointment in fifteen minutes Patrick, I’m sure this is not just a social call, what do you want to discuss?”
Within five minutes it was apparent to Patrick that there would be no quick deals with Motu Trading at the moment and a dejected Patrick Chase left the meeting.
Patrick was quickly back in the aisles of the Messe hall, mildly depressed and racking his brains as to how and who he could do a deal with in the short time he had to try to save his company. He was running out of contacts.
He wandered out of the Messe hall and found a seat outside, opposite Hall Five, bought a coffee and sat slowly sipping the drink. Should he go to the Skymar offices on the roof of Hall Three? Maybe before that he’d just visit two more copier companies and see if any contacts were available.
Halfway to the stand of Kodak, turning the corner between aisles, to his surprise Patrick saw three Skymar people, the middle of whom was Bill Blatch. He hesitated, then walked towards the three men, who were in deep conversation at the corner of a stand. He knew Bill Blatch and tapped the Californian on the arm, offering his hand, which, on turning and greeting Patrick with a surprised, “Oh, you,” Blatch shook. Patrick offered his condolences and, with little emotion in his eyes the Californian, took Patrick to one side, leaving his colleagues to talk between themselves.
“Have you time to talk?” Bill Blatch spoke in his slow drawl to Patrick. “There are some matters which we would like to discuss and although we are all very shocked by Michael’s death, business must continue.”
Patrick was puzzled but answered, “Well, yes.”
Blatch took his pocket diary from his inside jacket pocket, flicked the pages and said, “Could you meet at our reception area on Hall Three roof at 3.30 today?” Patrick reciprocated, opening his diary and turning the empty pages, looked at Blatch. “3.45 is OK, how does that suit you ? I could manage an hour then.”
“See you then,” Bill Blatch responded and, curtly indicating to his two companions, he said, “Come on, we’ll be late.” The three men strode off leaving Patrick musing. What the hell do they want to talk about? Still, in current circumstances he was keen to talk to anyone, anyone at all.
The visits to the stands of the two copier companies proved fruitless as the key people were either not present or fully booked with appointments.
By 12.45 Patrick was again outside, this time sitting on the grass in front of the food stalls in between the halls, sipping and eating a hot bowl of German vegetable and sausage soup, watching the people and thinking of what the hell he could do to get some quick business. It looked very unlikely and he’d only got two more days and he’d have to get back to England and help Anne sort out the mess at the company and the possibility of calling in the receivers. That would be a new experience. He racked his brains, thinking of why Bill Blatch of Skymar wanted to see him. They already had the licensing business covered. Maybe they thought that Patrick had some other technology up his sleeve. His thoughts drifted as he watched some of the pretty girls getting their food and their enjoyment of a quick smoke during their breaks from manning the stands. He finished his soup and, putting the plastic bowl and spoon in the rubbish receptacles provided, he strode off across to one of the other halls.
With two hours to kill, he decided to wander around a couple of halls and see if there was anything interesting or new that caught his notice.
The meetings at the Skymar offices on the top of Hall Three continued, despite the fact that the person all the people came to see was no more. By 2.30, Bill Blatch ushered out the principal contacts of Mita, a Japanese copier company, having thanked them for their condolences on the death of Michael Shoner. He then contacted California and spoke for the second time to Jeanette, updating her on the current information about Michael’s death. He persuaded her not to travel to Germany. There really was nothing she could do. Bill Blatch promised to call her late that night with any further news as to when the German authorities might release Shoner’s body.
Bill Blatch had been one of the Skymar executives who had been questioned late into the night, just twenty-four hours earlier, about the findings coming from the autopsy. He had been able to give a full description of one of the last people to have seen Michael Shoner alive and since then the police at all borders and the main German airports had been on the lookout for a tall, blond German by the name of Rolfe Krabbe. Some hope!
At 3.10, three plain-clothed officers from Hanover Central Police Station entered the Skymar offices and held a brief meeting with Bill Blatch.
At 3.30, Patrick entered the reception area of the roof offices and was shown to a chair by the same striking red-headed receptionist that Rolfe Krabbe had talked to just two days previously. Irma disappeared into an internal office and returned within two minutes, smiled to Patrick and confirmed “Mr Blatch will be a few minutes.” Patrick waited, politely refusing a drink from Irma.
Bill Blatch appeared five minutes later, looking tired but, greeting Patrick with a big Californian hello , he ushered Patrick into an office containing three men, obviously German. Patrick was slightly taken aback but tried hard to show no emotion. Looks interesting, he thought. He sat down at the left of the table, Bill Blatch taking the chair at the head of the table, the three Germans facing Patrick.
Patrick unlocked his briefcase, taking out his notepad, removing a pen from his inside jacket pocket, he shut the briefcase and set it on the floor to his right. He felt in his left jacket pocket and took out a soft leather business-card holder, pulling three business cards out of it he placed them in front of the three men facing him, at the same time proffering his hand and introducing himself.
After the first man had shaken Patrick’s hand the middle man glanced at his colleagues and Bill Blatch coughed.
“Patrick, these three men are from the Hanover police CID department. This is Inspector Haberecht and his colleagues Herr Mulde and Herr Busse. Herr Busse is also seconded to the German Interpol team. They are currently involved in examining the death of Michael Shoner and they want to interview any people present in Hanover when Michael died who had any personal and business dealing with him.”
Patrick was completely surprised. He’d no idea why Blatch wanted to see him but in his wildest dreams he would not have guessed it was anything to do directly with Michael Shoner’s death. Maybe what Kanji Toba had said about Michael’s death was true. This must be why the police are involved. Patrick’s mind rushed with thoughts. Christ, what do they want to speak to me for? He felt himself getting hot, his palms sweating.
The German on the right of the group leaned forward and in good English, but with a brusque, efficient German manner, spoke directly to Patrick.
“You knew Michael Shoner, Mr Chase? Well, I believe?” He stared at Patrick, his face, his eyes, emotionless.
Patrick was uneasy. “Yes, I knew Michael quite well. We had business dealings.”
“Was he a friend?” The German’s question was posed aggressively.
“No,” Patrick replied in like manner. He continued, “Our dealings were strictly business.”
“Could you tell me about these dealings over the last two to three weeks, Mr Chase? We have had extensive interviews with members of Skymar, including Mr Blatch. It appears you have recently received a large settlement from Skymar. We are curious about this.” The cold, stark eyes bore into Patrick. Patrick felt more uncomfortable. He swallowed, cleared his throat. His voice was weak.
“I have concluded a settlement with Skymar over a licensing deal.” He stopped; he didn’t know what to say next.
“Was this a purely commercial transaction?”
Patrick’s eyes moved to the left. The question had come from the middle man, Inspector Haberecht.
“Yes, purely commercial.” Patrick was puzzled
, “Why are you asking me that? Of course it was purely commercial.”
“Are you pleased Michael Shoner’s dead?” Herr Busse had reverted to the position of questioner.
Patrick reacted angrily to the question. They are bloody well interrogating me, he thought, as he immediately and aggressively replied. “Of course not - why are you questioning me like this? I may have had disagreements with Michael Shoner and Skymar in the past but they were all purely commercial. Of course I am not pleased he is dead. What do you take me for?”
Inspector Haberecht took up the questioning again. “So you have had disagreements with Michael Shoner, have you, Mr Chase? And were these serious?”
“Serious to my business,” Patrick replied instantly.
“How serious, Mr Chase? Serious enough to jeopardise your business and its very existence? We believe that is the case, Mr Chase. Serious enough for you to have threatened Skymar and Michael Shoner in the recent past. Is that not true?”
The three men stared at Patrick. He turned to Bill Blatch. “What the hell is this all about Blatch?” Bill Blatch looked on impassively.
“Mr Chase.” The voice of Inspector Haberecht was official, impassive and curt. “We have reason to believe you have threatened Michael Shoner over various business transactions over the last two weeks. We have statements that during negotiations in Japan you have directly threatened and, maybe with the use of third parties, threatened Mr Shoner by fax. Is that true Mr Chase?”
Before Patrick could answer, the German continued. “Mr Chase, we wish you to accompany us to Hanover Central Police Station for further questioning over the death of Michael Shoner. We wish to leave now. Is that understood, Mr Chase?”
Patrick was almost speechless. He could not believe what was happening. He could think of nothing other than be totally incredulous that these people could think he was in some way involved in Michael Shoner’s death. It was crazy. Within thirty minutes Patrick was sitting in between two of the Germans in the back of a black Mercedes 200SL, speeding through the one-way road system running from Hanover Messe to Hanover Central Police Station. The Mercedes sped through the archway of the police station into a large courtyard and accompanied by all three Germans, Patrick was led into a bare room, with a table, two chairs and what looked like a tape recorder. He slumped into the chair on one side of the table and while one German staying in the room , Inspector Haberecht, having spoken to both other police officers, left the room with Herr Busse.
“The interview will begin in about ten minutes, Herr Chase.” Herr Mulde, the remaining policeman’s English was faltering, but clear.
“How long am I going to be here?” Patrick questioned. He had recovered some of his composure now. This was crazy. He had nothing to do with whatever had happened to Shoner. It was preposterous.
“Please wait. The interview will begin soon,” the German replied.
In fifteen minutes, Herr Busse returned. He muttered to Herr Mulde in German. Patrick did not understand, but as Herr Mulde stood and moved to stand behind the chair, Herr Busse sat, drew the chair up facing Patrick and stared straight at him.
“Mr Chase, I am going to record this interview. Do you have any objection?”
“I don’t suppose it will matter if I do,” replied Patrick. “No I don’t. I don’t know what this is all about. It’s crazy. What questions have you got? The sooner I answer those the sooner I am out of here.”
Herr Busse fiddled with the tape machine and then spoke into it.
“Interview with Mr Patrick Chase. Present, Mr Patrick Chase answering questions, Chief Inspector Karl Busse asking the questions and Herr Sergeant Mulde, present as observer. Herr Busse gave the time , date and continued “ interview room seven, Hanover Central Police Station; interview commencing now.”
“Mr Chase, you are answering the following questions freely and of your own accord?”
“Yes, yes I am, I have nothing to hide,” Patrick spoke, turning to the recorder on the desk between them.
“You have recently, or more correctly your company have been in negotiations with the company Skymar and the late Mr Shoner?”
“Yes,” Patrick nearly stopped, but then continued, “I have recently concluded a licensing agreement with Skymar, Mr Shoner’s company, although I did not deal directly with Mr Shoner recently, only his associates, his Japanese associates.”
“Interesting. You said his Japanese associates. Where did these negotiations take place, Mr Chase?”
“Japan. They took place and were concluded in Japan.”
“Did you receive a large sum of money or, more correctly, did your company receive a large sum of money in settlement, Mr Chase?” Inspector Busse continued. “What was the sum you received Mr Chase?”
“$350,000,” Patrick’s answer was direct.
“A large sum, Mr Chase. We understand this was in settlement of a licensing situation, is that true?”
“Yes, that’s true, it was in settlement of a licensing situation that Skymar had created due to use of some of our technology.”
“Was this use authorised, Mr Chase?” Inspector Busse replied, brusquely.
“Um. Well no actually, it was not authorised, but the settlement regularised the position, so everything was put right.”
Patrick was worried. He felt he was being questioned like a criminal. There must be some misunderstanding that would become apparent soon.
“How was this settlement reached, Mr Chase? I must ask you to consider this position very carefully. Were any threats made to the late Michael Shoner to conclude this settlement? Please consider carefully your answer to this question, Mr Chase.”
The German sat back in his chair and folded his arms, anticipating Patrick’s reply.
“Certainly not,” Patrick’s voice indicated how indignant he was about this questioning and the inference in the questions. “The simple position was commercial. Skymar had tried to steal some technology from my company. This was unacceptable, but after negotiations this was settled, as we have discussed.”
The German leant forward. “Were you desperate for a financial settlement, Mr Chase? Was this crucial to the survival of your company? Would you have gone to any lengths to settle? Did you feel great personal animosity to Mr Shoner over this matter? Wasn’t it a matter of life or death for you?”
Patrick barked back his reply, “What do you mean desperate? If you mean was this financially important to my company, yes it was, actually.”
The German interjected, stopping Patrick in full flow. “If you had not received this settlement would your company not have survived?” Busse leant forward. “Come on, Mr Chase, wasn’t this a matter of life and death?” He stared at Patrick.
“Commercially, for our company, yes it was very important. We had been robbed. What would you do in these circumstances?”
Herr Busse leant even nearer to Patrick. His cold eyes focussed on Patrick’s. “I don’t know, Mr Chase. I don’t know what I would have done. More important, Mr Chase, is what did you do?”
There was silence. For five or six seconds the two men looked at each other. Patrick was totally incredulous over the events. Christ, they think I killed Michael Shoner. His brain raced, the thoughts streaming through his mind in fast forward.
Herr Busse stood up. His finger tapped his lips. He took five or six steps, making a small circle returning to the back of the chair, placing his two hands on the top of the chair, grasping this he leant forward and spoke again, quietly, deliberately.
“Did you ever threaten Mr Shoner, Mr Chase?”
“No,” Patrick replied.
“I will repeat my question, Mr Chase. Please consider your answer carefully. Did you ever threaten Mr Shoner, Mr Chase?”
“No.” Patrick’s fist banged the table, emphasising both his answer and his frustration. “No, I did not!”
“Mr Chase
, please answer the following question. I have it on record that during your negotiations over the settlement Skymar paid to you in Japan, a settlement that Mr Chase you have confirmed was life and death for you, you threatened Skymar and Michael Shoner. This was mentioned in the settlement, was it not Mr Chase?” The German withdrew a photocopied page from his inside jacket pocket, unfolded it and placed it in front of Patrick. The German’s long forefinger pointed to the paragraph of the agreement and then to Patrick’s signature. “You signed an agreement that plainly stated that ‘all threats of action of whatever sort are completely withdrawn for all time.’ Isn’t that true, Mr Chase?”
Patrick was shaking. “What are you trying to say?”
“Please answer my question, Mr Chase, yes or no?”
“Well yes,” but before Patrick could say anything more, the German again continued his relentless questioning. “And I believe during the negotiations you continually threatened Mr Shoner or his Japanese colleagues with statements such as ‘you know what the consequences will be’. Isn’t that true, Mr Chase?” The German did not allow time for any answer. His hand again went to his inside pocket and he withdrew another piece of paper. He held it face towards himself, his eyes moving over writing on the face of the paper and flicking up to look at Patrick Chase over the top of the paper.
“Did you not also send a fax or get a third party to fax this paper to Mr Shoner’s partner in London, Mr Chase?” and he placed a photocopy of a fax in front of Patrick.
“Is this not proof of your feelings towards Mr Shoner and factual proof of your direct involvement in another death, that of a Mr Pyo, who was also involved in business with Skymar?”
Patrick lowered his head and read for the first time in his life the fax that had been sent.
‘Michael. Following fax just arrived. Sent from Germany. Simply says – First Pyo-Next you ! Enough is enough.