Chapter 3 - The People Behind the Passwords
Rebecca Sloan arrived with her own lawyer.
Ellie liked that immediately.
People who came to important interviews without counsel usually believed power would protect them or had not yet understood the room.
Rebecca understood.
She wore a gray suit, no jewelry except a watch, and carried a printed folder thick enough to suggest she had been preparing since the first phone call.
Lorenzo did not attend.
Also good.
The interview belonged to the outside forensic team now.
Ellie sat beside Priya Desai.
Across from them:
Rebecca.
Rebecca’s attorney.
An investigator from Riva Freight’s outside counsel.
The first question was simple.
“Did you delete Samantha Harper’s HR complaint?”
Rebecca answered:
“Yes.”
There.
No denial.
Ellie felt the room sharpen.
“Why?”
“Because general counsel told me the complaint had been duplicated into a privileged legal investigation.”
“Which general counsel?”
“Peter Lasko.”
There.
Not proof of guilt.
A direction.
Rebecca opened her folder.
“I saved the email.”
Of course she did.
Good.
The message was eighteen months old.
Peter to Rebecca:
Samantha Harper complaint duplicates a matter already under legal review. Please remove HR copy to preserve privilege and prevent parallel process confusion.
Rebecca had replied:
Confirm employee will retain anti-retaliation protection.
Peter:
Confirmed.
There.
Rebecca looked at Ellie.
“I deleted the HR ticket because I believed legal had taken control.”
“Did you follow up?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Twice.”
She produced two emails.
Peter said investigation ongoing.
Then closed.
No findings shared due privilege.
Ellie asked:
“Did Samantha get fired during that period?”
Rebecca’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Did you approve?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“David Russo, based on attendance documentation from Marco Vesperi.”
There.
Layers again.
Rebecca continued:
“I objected after I learned she had an open complaint.”
“What happened?”
“Peter told me termination had already been reviewed for retaliation risk.”
“Did you accept that?”
“Yes.”
She looked down.
“That was a mistake.”
Good.
Not villain.
Not innocent either.
Ellie asked:
“Did you know North Harbor existed?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think it did?”
“Port labor coordination.”
“Did you review invoices?”
“No. Finance did.”
“Did you ever question the amount?”
Rebecca paused.
“No.”
Eight point four million.
No.
Ellie wrote that down.
The interview ended after ninety minutes.
Rebecca’s lawyer asked for a copy of relevant findings when legally available.
Outside counsel agreed.
No threats.
No secret room.
Good.
Lorenzo waited in another conference room.
Ellie entered.
He looked at her face.
“Not Rebecca.”
“Not proven.”
“What did she say?”
Ellie told him.
Peter Lasko.
Legal privilege.
Deleted complaint.
Termination review.
Lorenzo sat back.
“Peter has represented my family for twenty-two years.”
Ellie closed her eyes.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The sentence before the evidence gets ignored.”
His face hardened.
“I didn’t say I’m ignoring anything.”
“You said twenty-two years like time is character evidence.”
Lorenzo stared.
Then nodded once.
“Fair.”
Good.
He called outside counsel.
“Peter is removed from all company systems pending review.”
Ellie lifted a hand.
“Not because I said his name.”
“Because his access creates preservation risk.”
Better.
“Good.”
Lorenzo looked at her.
“You enjoy that word too much.”
“Everyone here needs reinforcement.”
He almost smiled.
Peter Lasko did not come quietly.
His attorney sent a letter accusing Riva Freight of scapegoating legal counsel for management failures.
Possible.
He denied knowledge of embezzlement.
Claimed privilege.
Refused voluntary interview.
Then requested copies of every allegation.
Normal defense.
Good.
Outside counsel preserved devices.
A judge later approved limited forensic access after the company filed civil claims tied to suspected fraud.
No one kicked down his door.
Ellie kept working.
Two days became six.
Six became eleven.
The $8.4 million broke into patterns.
North Harbor payments.
Three shell subcontractors.
One weather disruption reserve.
Two duplicate insurance reimbursements.
Total suspicious outflow:
$12.7 million.
Not all necessarily stolen.
Enough.
Ellie built a flow chart.
Marco approved invoices.
David released payments.
Lorenzo’s credentials appeared on high-value overrides.
Peter handled privilege flags.
Rebecca’s account deleted the complaint.
Melanie Quinn’s IT recovery workflow enabled credential substitution.
Too many people.
A conspiracy?
Maybe.
Or a weak system exploited by two people.
Ellie preferred the second until evidence proved the first.
Melanie came in next.
She brought logs.
No lawyer at first.
Then saw Priya.
Changed her mind.
Good.
After counsel arrived, she explained recovery mode.
“If an executive token fails, IT can issue temporary authority.”
“Who requests?”
“Finance or legal.”
“Who approves?”
“Second executive.”
“Who records it?”
“System.”
Ellie pointed.
“Why are these Sunday events missing approval metadata?”
Melanie stared.
Then went pale.
“That’s not possible.”
“Yet.”
She reviewed.
The events were not ordinary recovery.
They were database edits.
Someone with administrator access had altered the authorization table after transactions posted.
“Who has that access?”
Melanie swallowed.
“Me.”
“Only you?”
“Database vendor.”
“Internal emergency account?”
Silence.
There.
“One.”
“Who holds credentials?”
“Sealed envelope in legal.”
Peter.
Again.
Still not proof.
Ellie asked:
“Has it ever been used?”
“Not according to logs.”
“Can logs be altered with it?”
Melanie looked sick.
“Yes.”
There.
Lorenzo learned ten minutes later.
He said nothing for a full minute.
Then:
“So legal held a key that could rewrite who approved money.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Business continuity.”
Ellie looked at him.
“The boring answer is usually the dangerous one.”
He almost laughed.
Then did not.
“What do we do?”
There.
We.
Ellie noticed.
Did not like it.
“Your lawyers preserve. IT vendor verifies. Investigators compare raw backups.”
“Police?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled through his nose.
“You really love them.”
“No.”
“I love records that do not belong to you.”
That landed.
Good.
By the end of the week, the company’s outside counsel had given federal investigators a package.
Why federal?
Interstate wire transfers.
Bank fraud indicators.
Potential public corruption through port fees.
No mafia confession.
Specific suspected corporate crimes.
Good.
Marco remained missing.
Not vanished dramatically.
His phone off.
Apartment empty.
Car found at O’Hare long-term parking.
Flight records showed no boarding under his name.
Then three days later, he appeared.
At a law office.
With counsel.
Alive.
He offered to surrender on one condition:
He wanted protective custody.
Lorenzo read the message.
His face became stone.
“From me?” Ellie asked.
“Probably.”
“Would he need it?”
Lorenzo did not answer.
Good.
Then:
“Not anymore.”
That was different.
Marco’s lawyer contacted federal investigators.
Not Lorenzo.
Marco was arrested quietly on fraud and conspiracy charges based on company evidence and bank records.
At his first proffer, he admitted stealing.
No heroic whistleblower turn.
He stole $3.1 million.
He said Peter Lasko designed the payment architecture and took more.
“He told me nobody audits winter freight,” Marco said.
There.
Arrogance.
“He said Lorenzo only checks the bottom line.”
Lorenzo received the summary through counsel.
Ellie watched him read.
His face did not change.
“That part true?” she asked.
“What?”
“Did you only check bottom line?”
“Yes.”
There.
Good.
Marco claimed Peter created North Harbor, controlled the emergency credential, and buried Samantha’s complaint.
He claimed David Russo signed payments without knowing the vendor was fake.
He claimed Rebecca had no knowledge.
He claimed Melanie’s system was exploited through legal’s emergency account.
Could be self-serving.
Investigators needed corroboration.
Then Marco said something else.
Peter kept a second ledger.
Not mafia ledger.
Fraud ledger.
A spreadsheet tracking distributions.
Stored in an encrypted legal archive.
Password phrase derived from a quote Peter used constantly.
What quote?
“Trust is expensive.”
Lorenzo laughed when he heard.
Not humor.
“Of course.”
Agents obtained a warrant.
The archive existed.
Password worked.
Inside:
Payment dates.
Shell entities.
Distribution percentages.
Marco.
Peter.
One port official.
One insurance broker.
No Lorenzo.
No Rebecca.
No David.
No Melanie.
There.
The embezzlement case finally narrowed.
Ellie felt relief.
Then immediately distrusted relief.
She checked totals.
$12.7 million suspicious.
Spreadsheet accounted for:
$11.9 million.
Missing:
$800,000.
Lorenzo looked at her.
“More?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
He smiled without humor.
“Of course.”
Ellie traced the gap.
Not to another thief.
To cash withdrawals marked:
SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP EXPENSES.
Lorenzo’s face changed.
He knew that phrase.
“What?” Ellie asked.
He looked at the screen.
“Those are mine.”
Silence.
Not embezzlement.
Something else.
“What are they?”
Lorenzo did not answer quickly.
Then:
“Payments to public officials.”
There.
Bribes.
Not Peter’s theft.
Lorenzo’s crime.
The audit had reached him.
Ellie sat back.
For the first time since starting, she wanted to close the laptop.
Not because she was afraid of what she had found.
Because she knew exactly what came next.
Powerful men loved audits until the numbers stopped pointing outward.
She looked at Lorenzo.
“Do you want me to remove those from scope?”
He looked at her.
“No.”
Good.
“Do you want them hidden?”
“No.”
“Do you understand outside counsel may have reporting obligations?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand I do?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Lorenzo said:
“Keep going.”
Ellie watched him carefully.
That was not redemption.
It was only the next correct decision.
Still.
For a man whose entire life had taught him that control meant deciding where truth stopped, it mattered.
And because she no longer trusted four-word margins, Ellie added one more test.
She reconciled the cash withdrawals against dates.
Every bribe payment matched a permit, inspection, or labor decision that benefited a Moretti-controlled business.
No innocent explanation waited underneath.
May you like
The numbers were not accusing Lorenzo unfairly.
They were simply describing him.
