It often creates worse mistakes.
At 1:15, Officer Luis Ortega arrived at the federal command room accompanied by a police internal-affairs lieutenant.
He looked nervous.
Adrian offered him a chair.
“You’re not under federal investigation at this moment.”
Ortega nodded.
“That phrase does not make me less nervous.”
Adrian almost smiled.
“Fair.”
The internal-affairs lieutenant sat beside him.
Adrian began.
“How long have you worked with Officer Mercer?”
“About six months regularly.”
“You trust him?”
Ortega hesitated.
“I did.”
Adrian noticed the tense.
“Why past tense?”
“Today.”
“Only today?”
Another hesitation.
“No.”
The room became quieter.
Ortega looked toward internal affairs.
The lieutenant said:
“Tell the truth.”
Ortega took a breath.
“Sometimes calls disappear.”
Adrian leaned slightly forward.
“What does that mean?”
“Luxury-car reports.”
“People call about vehicles being taken.”
“Mercer checks something.”
“Then says it’s civil.”
“Repossession.”
“Tow dispute.”
“Private property.”
“Was he wrong?”
“I don’t know.”
“How often?”
“Maybe six or seven times since I started riding with him.”
“Same towing company?”
Ortega swallowed.
“Northline.”
Nobody moved.
Adrian asked:
“Did you ever challenge him?”
“Once.”
“What happened?”
“He told me he’d been doing the job longer than I’d been shaving.”
“What was the specific call?”
“A man at the Meridian Hotel.”
“Said his Mercedes was stolen.”
“Mercer showed me a tow authorization.”
“Looked official.”
“Anything wrong with it?”
Ortega stared at the floor.
“The plate number.”
Adrian waited.
“One digit was wrong.”
“Did you tell Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That clerks make mistakes.”
“What happened afterward?”
“He cleared the call.”
“Did you document your concern?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Ortega looked embarrassed.
“Because he was training me.”
There it was.
Not conspiracy.
Hierarchy.
Sometimes corruption survives because everyone involved is criminal.
Sometimes it survives because one person is criminal and five others are afraid of looking inexperienced.
Adrian asked:
“Why did your face change this morning when Mercer said he’d never been to the Marlowe?”
Ortega looked up sharply.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
Ortega sighed.
“We ate breakfast there once.”
“At the hotel?”
“Employee cafeteria.”
“When?”
“Maybe four months ago.”
“Why?”
“Mercer knew the security director.”
“Patrick Doyle?”
“Yes.”
Adrian remained still.
Ortega continued.
“They used to work together.”
“Same precinct.”