Lighting a cigarette, tickling the tip of it with the flame of a match and enjoying how it suddenly burns orange, I watch the company records open up in front of me on the computer screen.
My eyes move over the company name: PKI Ltd, and halt at the name of the Directors: Unlisted.
Ignoring the voice in my head telling me to stop, telling me all of this is over, that I’ve already fucked it up, I keep scanning through the pages as it becomes clear the company is not owned by a person, but by another company, The Stan Group, whose details are in turn registered to the British Virgin Islands.
‘Of course it is,’ I say aloud, spurred on by the discovery. Where else would a crooked company be based than behind the protection of the world’s biggest tax haven?
It is at moments like this that I wish I’d had the kind of formal journalism training that might give me the next steer forward. The office already knows I won’t be back for a few days. I imagine them nodding approvingly at the benefits that will surely come from some time off, relaxing and gathering my thoughts. Space to process things, as everyone has been so keen to advise.
Picking up my phone, I dial Si’s number, half-expecting him not to answer, given he is supposed to be in court.
When he picks up, he sounds even more eager to speak to me than I am to him.
‘Si, listen … Just a quick one. I’m going through some papers – I’m helping Jess’s mum with something.’ I know any mention of Jess will curtail any potential further questioning. ‘You know when you’re going through the details of records from Companies House. Doesn’t there always have to be a name attached to it?’
‘Not necessarily. But there’ll have to be a signatory. Not necessarily the person who owns the company, mind …’
‘Thanks, Si,’ I say, hanging up before he can ask anything further.
Scrolling down, I find it: signatory: James McCann, associate at McCann Legal and Partners, Queen Square, London.