“It was completed online with the primary secure token,” Martha said, looking down at her desk. “It went to a corporate holding account.”
I stood there, the warm air from the vent blowing against my ankles.
“Can you print the authorization receipt?” I asked.
“I can request it from the central office,” Martha said, “but the digital signature audit takes forty-eight hours to clear the archive.”
The coffee shop on Chain Bridge Road was nearly empty at two o’clock. David sat in the corner booth, two mugs of lukewarm black coffee sitting between us. He had his reading glasses pushed up on his forehead as he flipped through the Hollis Transit Systems annual report.
“The numbers do not match the old ledger sheets you showed me five years ago, Helen,” David said.
“In what way?” I asked.
“The first three pages of the historical summary are missing,” he said, pointing to the bottom of the glossy page. “It starts with year three, after the county contract was signed.”
“We founded it in my father’s garage,” I said. “The incorporation date should be listed as October twelfth.”
