“It means the contract price is my cost plus an agreed percentage of profit.”
“Has your company ever inflated its costs in order to get a higher profit percentage than your contract allows?”
“No, of course not,” the witness replied without letting his smile waver.
Max stared at him in silence for several seconds. “Do you or do you not realize that you’re under oath, Mr. Hamilton?”
Alvarez grimaced and stirred. “Look, Max, we’re trying to be cooperative and give you the information you want. There’s no reason to badger my client.”
Max kept his eyes on Hamilton. “Are you trying to be cooperative, Mr. Hamilton?”
“I… uh, sure.”
“And provide the information requested in the state’s subpoena?”
“Absolutely. We gave you everything you asked for.”
Here we go. Connor glanced at Max. The DAG’s face had darkened and his bull neck swelled against the collar of his white dress shirt.
“Then WHY didn’t you give me these?” Max demanded, his voice rising several decibels as he thrust a stack of photocopied documents at the witness.
Hamilton’s grin vanished and his eyes widened. “I, I… I’m not sure what these are.”
“Really? Take a good look at them.” Max leaned forward and pointed at the stack with an accusatory finger.
Hamilton flipped through the documents in silence for half a minute as Alvarez engaged in a staring contest with Max. Hamilton looked up again. “These look like the invoices backing up our costs for the work on the DMV building in Oakland,” he said with strained nonchalance. “We gave you all of these already.”
“No, you gave me FAKE invoices for that project! Invoices that had been doctored to make the numbers in them match the numbers you reported to the state,” Max shot back. “These are the REAL invoices.”
Alvarez put a hand on his client’s arm to signal him not to respond. “I object to this harassment, and I’m not going to let it go on any longer. We came here in good faith to answer questions, not listen to you shout at Mr. Hamilton. If you can’t behave civilly, we’re leaving.”
“Before you do, make sure to write down Mr. Hamilton’s shirt and pants size.”
“What? Why?”
“So we can have an orange jumpsuit waiting for him the next time we meet.”
“This is outrageous!” Alvarez stood up and his client and the company’s general counsel followed suit. Max also hefted his sizable bulk upright, his face now beet red. Connor stayed seated, letting his body language say that he was staying out of the fight. At some point, he might need to play “good cop,” and it didn’t hurt to start telegraphing his reasonableness now.
“It’s outrageous alright!” Max rejoined, his voice now at near-bullhorn level. “This is a civil investigation right now, but if you and your client aren’t real careful, there’s going to be a criminal referral. Giving false evidence during an investigation by the Attorney General is a felony under Penal Code section 132.”
Connor fought back the urge to smile as his ears rang. Max Volusca only hauled out section 132 when he was really mad. It was the legal equivalent of the old belt Connor’s father had kept in the back of the hall closet to threaten particularly incorrigible sons. He almost never used it, but its mere appearance worked wonders of attitude adjustment.
Alvarez jammed papers into his briefcase. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response!”
Max put his fists on the table and leaned forward. “Yeah, well I’m going to dignify it with an indictment!”
Hamilton and his lawyers packed in frosty silence for half a minute. Then Alvarez grabbed the stack of photocopied invoices.
“What do you think you’re doing?” demanded the DAG.
“These are company property,” said Alvarez as he shoved the invoices into his briefcase. “And I am reclaiming them.”
“No they aren’t, and no you’re not!”
Alvarez ignored Max and walked toward the door, trailed by Hamilton and Johnston. Max pushed a button on the speakerphone on the conference room table. “Ruby, there are three men leaving conference room 11436. Ask security to arrest them and search them for stolen state property.”
“Yes, Mr. Volusca,” said the receptionist in a bored voice.
Hamilton and his lawyers stopped in the conference room doorway. “You can’t be serious,” said Alvarez.
“Go downstairs and find out,” said the DAG. “I hope you brought your toothbrushes.”
Alvarez’s face turned the same shade of crimson as Max’s, but he reached into his briefcase, pulled out the documents, and slammed them down on the conference room table. “You are nothing but a schoolyard bully,” he said through clenched teeth.