The conversation irritated Kirby because the tow driver was asking the same kind of question Toby had asked. Kirby had spent much of the stop trying to demonstrate that he was the one with authority, and each new request for verification sounded like another person refusing to accept it. He opened the form on his screen, added the classification he had already settled on, and printed a copy from his patrol unit.
Frank took it, read the listed grounds, and frowned. "Suspected fraudulent registration, suspected firearm violation, and investigation pending. You don't have confirmation on any of this yet?"
"That's why it's suspected. Do your job."
Frank looked once more at the SUV. He had built his business by deciding which risks were manageable, and something about the vehicle's weight, the unusual markings, and the calm driver made this feel unlike an ordinary impound. He considered refusing the call, but the form was signed by the officer responsible for the scene, and he feared his company would lose its municipal contract if he walked away from every difficult request. That fear would later trouble him more than the failure of his truck.
He approached the Suburban carefully and inspected it from outside, stopping to look beneath the front end. The machinery he had brought was rated for heavy loads, but he could tell from the vehicle's stance that it was carrying more weight than a normal SUV. He asked again whether Kirby had confirmed the classification. Kirby gave him an impatient nod.
"Just get it on the bed," the officer said.
Toby could see Frank kneeling beside the front tire. He shifted in the back seat and called out through the cruiser's partly open front window. "Sir, please stop and ask for federal confirmation. That vehicle is not a standard passenger SUV."
Frank straightened and looked toward him. "What's he talking about?"
"He's trying to avoid the tow," Kirby answered. "Ignore him."
"I'm talking to you as the person responsible for the vehicle," Toby said. "There's a legitimate agency contact available. Please use it."
Frank held Toby's gaze for a moment, then looked back at Kirby. He had no way to decide which man was telling the truth simply by looking at them, and that bothered him. In the end, he returned to his equipment with less enthusiasm than when he had arrived.
The sun slipped lower behind the buildings, leaving the intersection in alternating bands of heat and shadow. A few pedestrians slowed when they noticed the flatbed, and Mateo Alvarez stepped farther back on the sidewalk to make room. He started recording after he heard the driver warn about the unusual weight, not because he expected something spectacular but because he sensed the dispute had moved beyond an ordinary parking problem. The small red indicator on his phone appeared as Frank began his preparations.
At five twenty-two, towing equipment made contact with the front underside of the Suburban. A warning signal sounded from somewhere inside the vehicle, low enough that only the people nearest it noticed. The Suburban's protective immobilization system registered an unauthorized recovery attempt and prevented the vehicle from rolling freely. Almost at once, a secure alert left the vehicle through its communications network.