Ethan pulled that note onto his screen and looked at it longer than the quarterly projections. The words had no signature, no accusation detailed enough for an immediate finding, and no explanation of why someone had felt unsafe attaching a name. They were, nonetheless, harder to dismiss than an entire column of favorable figures. There was fear in the phrasing, and Ethan had learned during his earliest working years that fear rarely arrived at a workplace without someone inviting it in.
Daniel Price entered after knocking twice. He was the group's general counsel, though Ethan trusted him as much for his judgment as for the law degree framed on his office wall. Daniel carried a paper folder despite the fact that every document in it also existed in an encrypted corporate system. He placed it on the desk and sat without taking off his jacket.
"The supplier called again," Daniel said. "Several invoices still haven't been paid, and the dates don't match the settlement schedule Marcus sent us. He says everything is being processed. They've heard that explanation three times already."
"And the delivery records?" Ethan asked.
"Some of them don't match the vendor confirmations. Victor, the kitchen supervisor, requested copies, but Marcus refused him access. He told Victor to leave the numbers to management."
Ethan turned the folder toward himself. Marcus Reed had managed the Halsted location for almost four years and had once been considered one of the company's most promising leaders. He was polished, quick with presentations, and very good at making a room of investors feel confident. His performance reviews had described him as forceful, decisive, and demanding, words that could mean very different things depending on whether the person writing them had ever worked under him.
"What do you recommend?" Ethan asked.
"An independent review, immediately. We can preserve the records and interview employees without announcing every step. We don't need you to become personally involved in the daily operation."
"That's what worries me," Ethan said. "I haven't been personally involved in the daily operation for years. Every time I visit, the kitchen shines, the staff smiles, and Marcus tells me how grateful everyone is. Then the door closes behind me, and I have no idea what happens."
Daniel studied him. "You're considering something impractical. I recognize that expression."
"I'm considering taking a shift."
"As what?"
"A dishwasher."
For several seconds Daniel said nothing. Then he opened the folder again, as if the contents might somehow talk Ethan out of the idea. He reminded Ethan that undercover observation did not replace formal evidence, that the group had employment procedures, and that an owner could create complications by concealing his identity from workers. Ethan listened and agreed with every concern, but he also knew an announced visit would show him only a performance.
"If I walk in wearing my usual suit," Ethan said, "everyone will perform for me. I want to know what happens to the person who walks through the back door and has no title worth respecting."