The previous story is here.
“Where everyone forgets, we remember.” The stories presented in the series “The Detective Investigates” are based on real cases investigated by Hayk Gabrielyan, Chairman of the Association of Private Detectives of Armenia, and Gabrielyan & Partners Detective Bureau, Armenia’s only officially registered private detective organisation. From now on, Aravot will publish the detective’s extraordinary findings every Friday.
A businessman friend of mine with companies in several countries had a habit of dropping into my office unannounced, usually in the evening. Coffee, then a little cognac, and conversations on all sorts of topics. We were always arguing about corporate security in business. His approach was based on personal trust and an entrepreneur’s instinct; mine was the opposite: trust must always be backed by essential security measures. Whenever I urged him to set up a unit to protect his businesses, he would joke it away: an unnecessary expense.
That day he came at noon. Business people don’t visit a detective at that hour if everything is fine. He sat lost in thought and only heard my offer of coffee on the third try. In recent months, one after another, the best and most experienced specialists had been leaving his company in Georgia. No noise, no scandals. They simply handed in their notice, citing a move to another job, and left on friendly terms. They had all joined the company at almost the same time, after being interviewed by the HR manager. He had spent considerable resources on their training and professional development.
Then came the main blow. The design for a new product — not yet finished, still in testing — had turned up at a competitor. And not just turned up: the competitor had quickly set up production and, most incredibly, patented it as its own development. This could no longer be a coincidence; the competitors had been working actively and very professionally. In other words, we were dealing with the most classic form of industrial espionage.
My friend suspected a technical information leak. I saw these “coincidences” differently. I asked for the staff list and the office layout: who was hired when, who does what, who talks to whom, who works in informal areas. Every detail had to be analysed, from technical issues to the human factor. My friend suspected he was being bugged; we were sure of it. It wasn’t an assumption but a gut feeling — the kind that rarely lets detectives down.
I suggested we turn up unannounced and carry out a “sweep” of the premises on site. We went to Georgia and entered his office at night. No one knew about our visit except my friend and his trusted assistant. The suspicious area had a specific address: my friend’s office and the conference room. That was where all business matters were discussed — details of the new product, partners’ names, contracts. If someone was gathering information, it was from there. These are the rooms where everything that is worth money gets discussed.
All night, specialists led by “the Master” swept the premises. Walls, ceiling, furniture, sockets, lights, even the books in the bookcase. Not a single device. Not a single suspicious signal. The cybersecurity team also worked until morning: network analysis, computers, servers, routers. Zero results. Remote or network intrusion was ruled out. When we finished, I didn’t tell my friend “everything is fine”. That phrase dulls vigilance. Instead, I suggested coming in early in the morning — before everyone else, when only the cleaners are in the building.
In the morning we entered the building. The smell of cleaning products and empty corridors. We went into his office. I went straight to the desk. I wasn’t looking for a device but for changes. During the night I had memorised every detail on the desk: the position of the papers, the arrangement of the chairs, the items on the desk. Everything was in place; nothing had changed. Under the desk stood a metal waste bin. Expensive, designer, almost a work of art.
It had been checked during the night too. Out of habit, I bent down and opened it. Empty. Then I turned it over. And at that moment everything became clear. A small voice recorder was attached by a magnet to the bottom of the bin. A green light was blinking. It was actively recording.
The device hadn’t been planted during the night. It wasn’t there when we swept the room. It had appeared after our visit, which meant it had been placed by someone who was alone here in the mornings — the cleaner. My friend said nothing for about a minute, then lit a cigarette and simply slumped into his armchair. In that state a person isn’t afraid; he realises he had been looking far away while the danger was right under his nose.
The cleaner was just a tool; we needed an in-depth analysis to find the control centre, which, in my view, also had to be very close by. Until the evening — the cleaner’s next visit, when she would presumably collect the recorder — we had about 10 hours. We began in-depth checks to get the full picture in time and identify possible participants and accomplices.
We started by analysing the old and new staff lists. My friend vouched for two people and ruled out their involvement in any intrigue: his secretary and the HR manager. Without saying anything, we simply began to analyse. The secretary had been hired after winning my friend’s trust. Within a short time she had become a very influential figure in the company. On her recommendation, the previous HR manager had been dismissed and a new one hired. She handled all communications between partners and my friend in his absence. In short, she was his authorised representative in the company, with very broad powers. My own conviction was that her Georgian aristocratic charm and slender figure had certainly helped her earn that status…
The HR manager had his own role. As soon as he took office, he began reshuffling staff in key positions across the company’s most important units, replacing old employees with new ones he had recommended himself. The final touch to this scheme was the cleaner. In short, a real intelligence team had formed around my friend, each member with a clear role and duties. We needed to turn this analysis into concrete facts so we could quickly break the tight espionage chain that had formed.
And we found them. The secretary filled her free time watching TikTok videos, like everyone who kills time. TikTok is an evil, but also a very important tool for us. Our in-depth analysis led us to a funny video she had shared on her TikTok page, taken from an unknown account with the odd name “XYZ”. The rest was a matter of technology and specialists: finding the real owner of that account. Having found the linked phone number, we identified him very quickly: he was the head of security at the competing company. The first and most important link had been broken.
I took on the “pleasant” duty of a psychological conversation with the beautiful secretary. She brought coffee into my friend’s office, where I was alone. I asked her to spare me a few minutes. The conversation was short. I simply showed her a screenshot of her page and the exposed account of the head of security, and, with tears in her eyes, she began to talk… She helped uncover the entire chain of the office conspiracy. A few hours later, the secretary, the HR manager and the cleaner stood with their heads bowed, listening to my friend’s Armenian–Georgian “sweet” words…
The investigation ended very much in my friend’s favour: greater losses, and possibly the collapse of his business in that country, were prevented. Later, over dinner at my favourite Tbilisi restaurant, Krtsanisi, instead of a toast I told my friend:
“Never be afraid of electronic ‘bugs’. We find those. Be afraid of the two-legged, walking ‘bugs’. They sit next to you, enjoy your trust, drink coffee with you… and work against you.”
Hayk GABRIELYAN
Aravot daily
06.02.2026
Read at the source (in Armenian): “The office conspiracy”