Chapter 8 - THE VICE PRESIDENT
Graham Voss was the kind of executive who sent cheerful companywide messages about teamwork and never answered a technician's email.
He arrived at the Pittsburgh shop in a black sedan and gathered the staff beneath the framed safety awards.
"Our organization is facing an unfortunate integrity issue," he announced.
My suspension was still confidential on paper, but everyone knew he meant me.
"We will not allow outside interests to disrupt the business we've built."
He thanked Curtis for "maintaining discipline under pressure."
Then he told the room that the lead technician position had been filled.
The job went to a man with half my experience and a warning on his safety record.
Tasha texted me a photograph of the announcement from a former coworker.
I looked at it for a long time before calling Maya.
"I need to go public."
"Not yet," she said.
"Why should I keep quiet while they're telling everyone I'm dishonest?"
"Because we have evidence they don't know we've preserved."
I hated her answer.
I hated that she was probably right.
Daniel invited me to a private meeting with Nora and an independent forensic accountant.
We met in a modest office above a bank, not the luxurious boardroom I had imagined.
Nora laid out four service orders.
Each represented a refrigeration emergency supposedly causing enormous losses.
I recognized two of the facilities.
"I repaired that one," I said, pointing to a grocery warehouse.
"And that one was a false alarm caused by a bad sensor."
Nora nodded.
"Both were invoiced for temporary freezer trailers."
"No trailers ever arrived."
"We have no delivery records."
A spreadsheet connected the trailer company to a holding firm controlled by Graham Voss's brother-in-law.
My stomach turned.
"So Curtis isn't just manipulating the promotion numbers."
"We believe he is helping approve false claims," Nora said.
Daniel held up a hand.
"Believe is the important word. We need proof, not a convenient story."
I thought about my father's advice.
Start with the facts.
The accountant asked whether I knew anything about a work order from October.
A facility in Beaver County had reported a dangerously high compressor discharge temperature.
The service record showed the problem had been cleared by remotely resetting the controls.
I frowned.
"A reset can't repair a cracked pressure fitting."
Nora slid a photograph across the table.
It showed a torn metal line and an oily stain beneath a compressor.
"Three days after that report, a worker was hospitalized when refrigerant escaped," she said.
The technician's name at the bottom of the October service report was mine.
May you like
But I had never been to that facility.
