And he wasn't supposed to have unlimited power to alter the underlying records.
But his position gave him access to people, systems, and decisions that could influence how irregularities were handled.
Across the table sat the chief executive of Harborline Recovery Services.
The contractor was a wealthy white American businessman in his early fifties who wore beautiful suits, spoke softly, and rarely raised his voice unless he was alone with someone he believed depended on him.
His company operated legitimately in many respects.
Its trucks removed vehicles.
Its storage facilities employed dozens of workers.
And most of its invoices corresponded to actual services.
But during the previous two years, a small group of employees had developed an additional revenue operation.
Vehicles with unresolved paperwork were moved through the system more quickly than permitted.
Certain cars were processed for sale or transfer under questionable authorizations.
Some fees were inflated or duplicated.
And selected records were adjusted afterward to make the transactions appear ordinary.
The amounts varied.
A few thousand dollars here.
Tens of thousands there.
Occasionally much more when valuable vehicles were involved.
The contractor executive discovered that the scheme could produce substantial money without attracting much attention.
Most owners were busy.
Some couldn't afford attorneys.
Others simply paid the charges because they needed their vehicles back.
And the records were complicated enough that disputes could be dismissed as misunderstandings.
The deputy director helped make those disputes disappear.
Not always through direct instructions.
Sometimes he delayed an audit.
Sometimes he approved a revised report.
Sometimes he referred a complaint to a supervisor who preferred closing cases quickly.
And sometimes he used his knowledge of the administrative system to ensure that questionable transactions weren't reviewed together.
That separation was important.
One missing vehicle might look like a mistake.
Three inaccurate invoices might be blamed on software.
A few altered dates might appear to be clerical errors.
But when the records were examined collectively, the pattern became much harder to explain.
That was what Lattice Integrity had begun doing.
The deputy director placed his phone on the table.
“We have a problem.”
The contractor executive frowned.
“What kind?”
“The technology company requested historical transfer logs.”
The executive leaned back.
“So?”
“Not summaries.”
The deputy director looked directly at him.
“Original transaction events.”
The executive stopped moving.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then the businessman asked, “How far back?”
“Eighteen months.”
His expression hardened.
“Why?”
“A complaint involving a missing vehicle.”