“And your company received three shipments last quarter through the Port of Newark,” I say. “All flagged for irregular documentation.”
“That’s a clerical issue,” he replies quickly. “We resolved it.”
“Did you.”
It’s not a question. A statement. He shifts again.
“Yes.”
I glance up at him meeting his eyes fully now.
“Then you won’t mind explaining why the contents of those shipments don’t match the manifests filed under your name.”
Silence.
His attorney leans forward. “My client?—”
“Is under oath,” I cut in smoothly, without raising my voice.
The attorney leans back. He’s a rookie. Must not have been practicing for long. Which makes him exceptionally easy to intimidate. I wonder why Hunt hired him. Then again, he must be pressed for cash considering most of his assets have been seized.
The court reporter sits quietly at the conference table, typing everything we say for record-keeping purposes.
Viktor swallows. “I’m not responsible for every detail.”
“No?” I tilt my head slightly. “You’re the managing director.”
“Yes, but there are… there are departments. People who handle?—”
“So you’re saying you have no knowledge of what your company is importing.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you implied.”
His jaw tightens.
“I’m saying mistakes happen.”
“Three times in one quarter?”
“Yes.”
I let that sit. Then, “Are you familiar with the term ‘shell corporation,’ Mr. Hunt?”
His eyes flicker. Just for a second. That’s all I need.
“I—yes.”
“Good,” I say. “Then you’ll understand why the financial trail connecting Volga imports to two additional entities registered under different names might raise questions.”
“That’s—those are business partners!” he bursts, losing his cool.
“Of course.” I slide a document across the table. “Then you can explain why those ‘partners’ share identical routing numbers and offshore accounts.”
Silence. The room tightens. He looks at the paper, then at his attorney. Then back at me.
“We’d like to take a break,” his attorney says.
