Anyone who has watched a Mafia movie may have heard a Godfather say, just before he has someone shot in the head: “Nothing personal, it’s strictly business.”

It could be for a number of reasons. A hand in the till, eliminating a rival, betrayal. But the message remains the same-a serious criminal enterprise must be run like a serious business. A rather more ruthless approach to management, for sure, but it’s still all about keeping the show on the road.

So, to recap: Diogenes had been informing on The Man’s criminal activities to a senior police officer, who recorded their incriminating conversations and tried to blackmail The Man and his banker buddy.

Big mistake. He had failed to realise just how far The Man can reach into the upper echelons of the judicial and political old-boy networks. In other words, a lot of high-level protection, which is why said officer is now in hiding.

As was Diogenes, in his case on a friend’s hill-country pig farm, and not for the first time. But on this occasion it would take more than a grovelling apology and plea of temporary insanity to stuff the cat back in the bag and the worms back in the can.

This sorry state of affairs came about because Diogenes took Uncle Testosterone’s advice—does he never learn?—and bugged the CatAstrophe management committee meeting at which its various illegal activities were discussed.

It was supposed to be life insurance for when the senior police officer dropped the other shoe. But The Man had called his bluff—do your worst, he said, but be prepared to suffer the consequences, not excluding being shot in the head. Nothing personal…the radar, he can make regular trips to the UK without attracting unwanted attention, something The Man and his banker buddy cannot do, for obvious reasons.

So when the demand for CatAstrophe’s gold sovereigns went through the roof thanks to insider trading in the run-up to devaluing the rupee, it was only Diogenes who could be (more or less) trusted to do the needful.

And this time it was big time—a million or two dollars worth of negotiable assets pawned to a network of hawala bankers, the money made available in London, and the sovereigns shipped out in diplomatic containers.

The icing on the cake for Diogenes is that, because of the numbers involved, he is able to negotiate sizable discounts from the Royal Mint, which go straight into his own secret bank account.

The downside is that he is now well and truly trapped inside The Man’s criminal black-hole event horizon. Which, absent a change of heart or upending the laws of physics, is where he will stay for the duration, however long or short that turns out to be.

Three people not unhappy with this turn of events are ‘Don’ Testosterone and Aunts Harmonium and Euphonium. They figure that, at their time of life, and given the country’s parlous state of affairs, living in The Man’s shadow is preferable to being exposed, like mad dogs and Englishmen, to the full glare of life’s merciless midday sun…