Chapter 68: Never Anger an Actuary
“I haven’t told Walter anything yet. I only congratulated him on the purchase and said we’d take a look at the car’s condition.”
Three days later.
Inside the elevator heading toward the inspection area in the basement of Sterling Selection’s building, Hailey whispered in a low voice.
A peculiar tension showed on her stiff face.
“Yeah, you did well.”
I nodded briefly.
At times like this, Hailey really did seem remarkably perceptive.
Even without an explanation, she understood why I was keeping quiet.
Before reaching one hundred percent certainty, recklessly criticizing a vehicle in front of its owner was one of the greatest taboos in this industry.
That was especially true with a proud collector like Walter.
Thud—
When the thick steel doors opened, dazzling white LED lights poured over us, making the place resemble an operating room.
“Jason, good to see you again!”
An elderly gentleman with an intelligent gleam behind his glasses approached and held out his hand.
It was Douglas, the veteran chief inspector who had spent decades in the industry.
He was relatively small, but his straight posture and confident steps radiated an imposing presence.
“Hello, Douglas.”
“Mr. Walter is waiting in the lounge inside. I’ll bring him out shortly. When he heard you were coming, he started grinning like an excited child.”
While Douglas headed toward the waiting room, Hailey and I walked toward the Mercedes-Benz 280SL standing elegantly at the end of the inspection line.
I noticed this last time too, but the inspection center has an excellent system. I should learn from this.
With only slight exaggeration, the place was as clean as a semiconductor factory that would not tolerate a single speck of dust.
Employees in standardized uniforms examined the vehicles in perfect order.
A large display mounted above the center showed real-time data from the vehicle currently under inspection, allowing veteran inspectors to verify everything a second time.
“Oh, Jason came too. Buying this car really was the right decision.”
By the time I finished my initial examination of the vehicle, Walter came striding over with a bright expression.
“So, what do you think of it? I had no choice but to buy it from Blackwood, but it still received an A3 grade. Wouldn’t you say it’s excellent?”
Walter’s eyes practically dripped with affection as he looked at the car.
His face was filled with the excitement of a boy reuniting with his long-lost first love.
It was an expression I occasionally encountered while working in restoration.
That made my heart feel even heavier.
“Walter, I have to be extremely careful about saying this, but I don’t believe this vehicle deserves an A3 grade.”
“...Hahaha. What did you just say? This car isn’t an A3? Then is it an A4, perhaps? Hahaha!”
Walter burst into hearty laughter at my absurd claim that the car did not deserve its A3 grade.
He must have assumed it was a joke.
But when he saw how serious my expression was, a faint twitch appeared around his eyes.
“Surely you don’t mean A2? Or A1? I’d be a little disappointed if that were the case...”
“No. In my opinion, B6 would be generous. Judging it strictly, it should be around B4.”
I stated my assessment again, clearly and deliberately.
Dragging something like this out would only make the situation worse.
“What are you...?”
At my firm answer, the smile vanished from Walter’s face like the tide receding.
The inspection area, already cold beneath the white LED lighting, seemed to freeze completely.
“Wait, Jason. What evidence led you to that conclusion? Blackwood’s inspection system is every bit as thorough and demanding as ours. If it received an A3 there, then even allowing for a margin of error, it should still unquestionably receive an A grade.”
Douglas, who had been watching from the side, frowned and stepped forward.
“Yes. It would probably receive that grade at most inspection centers. It was deliberately ‘worked on’ to make sure of that.”
Leaving the three of them frozen like mannequins, I carefully ran my hand across the Mercedes’ rear panel.
Beyond the cold metal surface, I could feel something foreign concealed underneath.
“Could you look here? Blackwood’s inspection sheet probably records this as nothing more than ‘minor bodywork and repainting.’ But this panel was cut out, replaced, and welded.”
Walter pulled the grading sheet from his jacket pocket and unfolded it.
The edge of the paper trembled.
“You’re right... It only says bodywork and repainting...”
“Douglas, please verify it.”
The moment I finished speaking, Douglas took out a paint depth gauge.
(Translator’s Note: Paint Depth Gauge — A device that measures the thickness of paint and other coatings on a vehicle’s body. Unusual readings may reveal repainting, body filler, or previous repairs.)
Beep, beep—
Each sharp tone was accompanied by a figure appearing on the device’s display.
The original paint thickness on a Mercedes roadster from the 1960s was approximately ninety micrometers.
This section had been repainted, however, so the reading was one hundred forty micrometers.
“Hmm. It certainly has been repainted, just as the report states. But the readings themselves are consistent. If welding had been involved, there should be a line where the numbers spike. Which means...”
Douglas trailed off and looked at me with an awkward expression.
As expected of a veteran, he already seemed to know the answer.
“Yes. Lead sledding. They used lead instead of filler to smooth over the welded area.”
(Translator’s Note: Lead Sledding — A traditional automotive body-repair method in which lead is melted and shaped over seams or repaired metal instead of using modern polyester body filler. A carefully executed lead repair can be difficult to detect through a basic paint-thickness check.)
Lead sledding was an old-fashioned and inefficient technique, but it would not be detected by a basic paint-depth inspection.
Douglas let out a heavy groan.
He hurriedly borrowed a magnet from a nearby workbench and placed it against the point I indicated.
Tap. Tap.
The magnet adhered to the surface.
Within seconds, Douglas’s brows twisted slightly.
“My God... You’re right. It really is lead sledding. The magnetic force weakens ever so slightly. The work is astonishingly well done.”
With his experienced hands, Douglas immediately located the weld line through the subtle difference in magnetic strength.
“What in the world...?”
Walter’s face gradually turned ashen.
“Wait. Just wait. What are you saying? Jason, are you claiming Blackwood deliberately concealed this?”
Hailey spoke in disbelief.
“I don’t know. If we bend over backward to give them the benefit of the doubt, they could claim they didn’t know about this part either. These days, inspections often move on after only a quick paint-depth check. And they did disclose bodywork and repainting.”
Even with my appraisal skill, the lead sledding on this car was refined enough to impress me.
Judged purely by skill, it was nearly on par with my own work.
Since Blackwood’s system inspected dozens of vehicles each day, they had plenty of room to argue that this had been nothing more than an inspection mistake.
“However, what comes next is something they can’t explain away. Douglas, could I borrow this for a moment?”
“Huh? Ah, yes. Go ahead.”
I took the flashlight clipped to the upper pocket of Douglas’s uniform and descended into the inspection pit, a recessed trench used to examine a vehicle’s underside without a lift.
As expected... They were disgustingly thorough. But this is enough to prove intent.
Without saying anything, I climbed back out of the pit and immediately threw open the hood.
“This engine is not the original engine from a 280SL roadster.”
“Th-that can’t be!”
This time, Hailey let out a groan of disbelief.
For someone in the industry, the idea was almost unimaginable, which seemed to make the shock even greater.
“Jason, surely they wouldn’t have gone that far. That would be a betrayal of both conscience and the entire industry...”
Douglas had spent his life taking pride in inspection work and maintaining an upright professional ethic.
He could barely finish his sentence.
“I imagine they were extremely confident they would never be caught. The engine itself is an M130, which is the correct Mercedes engine code. However, it isn’t from a 280SL roadster. They swapped in an engine from a 280SE sedan.”
The two engines were extremely difficult to distinguish because they looked identical and even shared the same model designation.
The only meaningful performance difference was that the roadster version used a slightly more aggressive camshaft.
What made the deception especially infuriating was that someone had somehow acquired a roadster camshaft and transplanted it into this engine.
That way, even if the owner later performed an output test, they would never notice.
I pointed toward the joint leading to the throttle body.
“This is the most visible point of difference. On an original SL, the hood sits lower, so the angle of this connection is also lower. Since this one uses the sedan engine, they artificially altered the angle to match. There are several other subtle differences, but they’re so minor that almost no one would be able to find them.”
After hearing me, Douglas took out another flashlight and descended into the pit.
A short while later, he climbed back out with a pale face and spoke quietly.
“Jason is right. They even replaced the oil pan underneath with the roadster version. An ordinary inspector would never find this. That means they must have altered the stamping perfectly as well. The malicious intent behind this is unmistakable...”
Cold sweat had formed on Douglas’s forehead.
Even though Blackwood was a competitor, he seemed deeply disappointed.
“With this level of work, there’s no difference in performance. But under no circumstances can it be called original.”
“Walter...”
Hailey gently patted Walter’s shoulder as he stood with his head lowered.
“Those insane bastards...”
He bit his lip tightly, barely suppressing the curses that seemed ready to erupt.
“Incidentally, Jason, you’re practically supernatural. You can’t have spent your life researching only this model, yet your skill is sufficient not merely for vehicle restoration but for the highest level of appraisal.”
I had received extraordinary praise from a craftsman with thirty years of inspection experience, but I could not fully enjoy it.
The person who had worked on this vehicle was clearly no ordinary technician.
As Douglas had said, unless someone were a Mercedes specialist, a general inspection would never have detected the deception.
The work was that delicate and complete.
That made it all the more unpleasant and infuriating.
No matter how important the grading competition is for preserving market share in this industry...
Of course, my anger was nothing compared to the betrayal Walter must have felt as the direct victim.
“Jason, can you guarantee that everything you said here is one hundred percent true?”
Walter asked as I removed my inspection gloves and threw them into the trash.
His voice was compressed with rage.
“Yes. On my honor and conscience as a restorer, I can state clearly that it is true.”
“...The same goes for me. If you wish, I will gladly testify in court.”
Douglas added with a resolute expression.
“Whew...”
A breath escaped between Walter’s clenched teeth.
“How dare Blackwood do something like this?”
With trembling hands, he barely managed to take out his phone and dial a number.
“This is Walter. Immediately freeze the insured values of every vehicle grade certified by Blackwood and place them under review. Do not approve or renew a single one without my authorization. What? Just do it! I’ll take full responsibility.”
After ending the call harshly, Walter gripped my shoulder.
His gaze was still shaking, showing that he was forcibly restraining himself.
“Jason, I will never forget this debt. What you did was not simply help me, one enthusiast. You may have saved the entire classic-car industry. Hailey, thank you for today. I’ll contact you again.”
Watching his trembling back as he disappeared, I asked Hailey beside me,
“Hailey, what exactly does Walter do? From that phone call, he doesn’t sound like an ordinary wealthy collector.”
“He’s the Chief Pricing Actuary at Bluechip Insurance.”
(Translator’s Note: Actuary — A professional who uses mathematics, statistics, finance, and risk modelling to calculate insurance prices, reserves, and expected losses. A Chief Pricing Actuary oversees high-level pricing and risk-classification standards.)
I swallowed dryly after hearing her answer.
“Bluechip Insurance? Isn’t that... an insurance company specializing in classic cars? And a chief pricing actuary is responsible for determining insured-value classifications and coverage?”
“Whew... That’s right. It looks like a storm is about to hit the industry.”
Hailey answered while staring blankly after Walter.
{@PIC:818389}