Friedemann Doppelberger was normally a composed man. But that morning when he exited from his flat on the corner of Graumannsweg and Papenhuder Straße, his blood froze and his face turned green with anger, then dark red. The two rear tyres of his new Benz were flat. Obviously willfully punctured. The left rear fender above one of the wheels had deep scratch marks, as if made with a sharp object, a screwdriver or a key.

Ten minutes later the police arrived. Three or four people gathered around and watched for a couple of minutes, but then left one by one, as work called. After having made due recordings of the events and after having photographed the car, the police asked if Mr. Doppelberger needed assistance to mend the tyres.

"No, I will just call Mercedes myself" he replied.

While he stood there waiting for the Mercedes Road Squad, a foreign gentleman sharply dressed in a dark brown suit approached him.

"This is too bad; do they know who did it?" The accent was unmistakenly Indian.

"No." Mr. Doppelberger looked down, breathing heavily.

"The same thing happened to two of our cars only last month" the Indian gentleman said.

"Oh! Then there are vandals in the neighbourhood. We must mount cameras!"

"We already have cameras, but they dont catch much at night. We have ordered infrared cameras that will cover the entire street, but I just wonder..."

"Yes?"

"This is an E350 estate wagon. You know our two cars are exactly the same type. Even the color is the same, dark green."

"What a coincidence! Which company do you represent?" Mr. Doppelberger assumed the Indian was a trade delegate.

"Aadarsh Patel, Indian Consulate-General. How do you do!" The Indian extended his hand.