Two
Austin
Midday on Monday, I’m standing outside the lab, my phone pressed to my ear as I watch smoke billow from a video feed. When is today going to end? The American Automotive Company’s logo glares back at me from the side of the burning car, but it’s the EnergiFusion battery they’re crucifying on national news.
“Justin’s nowhere to be found,” Mackenzie‘s voice crackles with static over the line. “He’s been AWOL all morning.” Mackenzie Davis is our office assistant, though she works most closely with the CEO, and she’s starting to sound more worried than the rest of us.
“Great,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead. “And the board meeting?”
“Four Seasons, four o’clock. I let him know.”
“Thanks, Mackenzie.” I disconnect and shove the phone into my pocket, my mind racing. The company is ten years old. Justin should be here, helping us navigate through this mess, not off-grid while we’re taking flak. This is where he excels. Maybe he’ll slide in just in time for the meeting.
I slip back into the lab, where Harrison Perkins, the head of EnergiFusion’s lab, waits, his brows knitted in concentration. We’ve spent hours today trying to replicate the Detroit inferno, but as with the other fires, the results are as cold as our coffee.
“Any luck?” I ask, though the pristine state of our test rig answers my question.
“Nothing,” he replies, shaking his head. “This battery won’t burn unless compromised. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Let’s run it again. Increase the pressure on the cells,” I suggest.
“Are we sure we want to prove we’re at fault?” Harrison raises an eyebrow.
“Either we find the flaw or clear our name,” I say, adjusting the equipment settings. “We owe it to ourselves.”
Hours pass like minutes, but despite our best efforts, not a single spark or wisp of smoke. As the afternoon lengthens, we are no closer to an explanation than when the day started. The weight of uncertainty presses down on me, but I force a smile, hiding my frustration.
“Time to face the music, huh?” Harrison gestures to the clock, signaling the approach of the board meeting.
“Yeah, let’s wrap up.” My attempt at confidence doesn’t even convince me.
As I gather my notes, questions swirl in my mind. But I can’t afford to show any doubt—not now.
The hum of the town car’s engine vibrates beneath us as we travel through San Francisco. Rhys, Theo, and I huddle together in the plush backseat, my collar feeling tighter with every block that brings us closer to the Four Seasons.
“Justin moved a billion of our cash reserves to some offshore account,” Rhys murmurs suddenly, his fingers tapping on his phone screen like he’s drumming up the courage to tell us more.
My mouth goes dry. “Just now? A billion? Are you sure?”
“Positive. The accountant called me last week to find out who we’d transferred such a large sum to.” He locks eyes with me, and there’s no mistaking the gravity in his gaze. “I’ve combed through every transaction, and I can’t figure out where it went. It’s gone, and I didn’t know a thing about it. Granted, it’s from our reserves, so we’ll make payroll and pay all our bills, but it limits our growth plan, and we for sure don’t want it to keep happening.”
“Did you reach out to Justin?” Theo’s voice is a calm contrast to my incredulity.
“Several times. No answer.” Rhys’ frown deepens as he rolls up the privacy screen, sealing us away from the driver’s curious ears.
“Must be a reasonable explanation,” Theo insists, he seems shaken.
“Let’s discuss this later,” I suggest, desperate to focus on the looming challenge ahead. We can figure out what Justin did with the money after the board meeting.
We arrive, exiting the car into brisk air that does nothing to cool my anxiety. We stride into the opulent lobby of the Four Seasons, the scent of fresh lilies contrasting with the dread coiling in my stomach.
“Where is Justin?” demands Gill Collins, one of our board members as we enter the conference room. He doesn’t bother with pleasantries.
“Nobody knows,” I reply. They look at me as if I’m going to pull our elusive CEO out of a hat. But I’m just as clueless and concerned.
“Let’s get started, then,” Gill says after a moment, but his tone suggests the real meeting won’t begin until Justin appears—whenever that might be.
Justin’s wife, Crystal, is a partner and has been part of EnergiFusion almost since the beginning. She’s focused on her own career in marketing these days, but she’s usually at these meetings. I don’t see her though. Has she disappeared too?
The tension in the conference room is palpable, a living entity that coils around my throat and tightens with every silent second that ticks by. Board members shuffle papers and exchange uneasy glances. Despite what Gill said, no one is starting anything.
“Communication is key in times like these.” Mason Sullivan, our company’s original funder and now a partner, finally breaks the silence, his voice like gravel. “EnergiFusion is silent while our reputation plummets. Why isn’t Justin out there, setting the record straight?”
I lean forward, hands clasped to project a calm I’m far from feeling. “Justin’s working on it,” I say, trying to rise above their collective scrutiny. It’s what we believe, Rhys, Theo, and I. We have to believe it.
“Whalley PR has been trying to reach him all day,” Mason retorts. “No word from him. No strategy.”
“Let me work with them.” The offer escapes my lips before I can weigh the gravity of volunteering. But it’s done. Heads nod, relief mingling with newfound expectation directed at me.
“All right, Austin.” Mason relaxes in his chair. “Coordinate with Whalley. We need damage control yesterday .”
“Understood.” I nod.
Wade Williams, a board member who’s been stewing silently, now leans in. “And what about the tech side? You’ve been quiet on that front, Sands. What’s happening with the batteries?”
“Right,” I acknowledge, clearing my throat. “Harrison and I have spent the entire day in the lab—”
“Trying to replicate the issue,” Harrison interjects from beside me, his round glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.
“Exactly. Sodium ions aren’t volatile, and without puncturing the battery cells, we can’t get anything to combust.” My explanation sounds feeble.
“Why aren’t we telling this to the world?” Wade demands, his fists clenched on the table. “American Automotive is tossing us into the fire, and we’re just burning!”
“Because we don’t have all the answers yet,” I reply, suddenly unsure about this approach. “We can’t go public with half-truths and maybes.”
“Half-truths are better than no truths when every news outlet is painting us as the villain!” Wade argues, his glare fierce.
“We will make a statement,” I assure him with a determination I muster from the depths of my resolve. “We’ll counter their narrative. Just…give us a moment to do this right.”
Wade huffs, his displeasure clear, but he offers no further argument. For now, the board seems to accept my plan, or at least the promise of one. I just hope I can deliver on it.
“Excuse me,” I murmur, pushing back from the glossy conference table and rising to my feet. The collective gaze of the board feels like a barrage of silent accusations, but I can’t focus on that now. There’s work to be done.
I step out into the quiet hall to dial Whalley PR. The line clicks, and I’m greeted with the brisk professionalism of their lead crisis manager, Matthew Martel. “Austin Sands here,” I tell him. “We need to address this engine-fire situation head-on.”
“Finally.” Matthew exhales sharply. “We’ve been trying to reach Justin all day. Can you give us anything to work with?”
“Justin’s…indisposed,” I tell him, the word tasting sour. “But listen, we’ve tested the battery tech all day. No combustion. We think the fault lies elsewhere, not with the EnergiFusion cells.”
“Got it. We’ll start crafting a response. Anything else?”
“Keep it factual, no speculation. And put emphasis on our safety record. We need to regain public trust.” I rattle off a few more key points before ending the call, feeling a thin veneer of control returning.
Before heading back to the lions’ den, I shoot a text to Crystal. If anyone knows where Justin is, she would. Though she can be volatile, and I really hate opening this can of worms.
Me: Have you heard from Justin today?
Her reply comes fast, and fortunately, it’s rational, though tinged with concern that mirrors my own.
Crystal: No, and it’s not like him. I’m worried.
“Damn it, Justin,” I mutter, typing back a thanks and pocketing my phone. With a deep breath, I re-enter the meeting room where the atmosphere remains thick with tension.
The next two hours are relentless. Each board member takes a turn lambasting Rhys, Theo, and me for perceived inaction and questioning why we don’t know where Justin is. “You’re supposed to be leaders!” Gill Collins booms at one point.
“Look,” I interject, once again standing to command the floor, “I understand your concerns. But let me be absolutely clear; our technology is solid. We’ve run every test imaginable in the lab today—and since we developed the technology six years ago—and not once could we replicate the fires reported in these vehicles.”
“But we’re still losing the PR battle,” another board member counters, her arms folded across her chest.
“Whalley is on it as we speak,” I assure them. “They’re going to set the record straight.”
“Words,” Wade Williams scoffs. “We need action, Austin.”
“And action you’ll have,” I assure them. “I stake my reputation on our batteries. They are not the cause of these fires, and I will prove it.”
Their stares are heavy, filled with a mix of hope and doubt. I know they want to believe in EnergiFusion, in what we’ve built together, but fear has a tight grip on the room. It’s up to me to pry those fingers loose.
Eventually, it’s over, but the tension in my shoulders only tightens as the door closes behind us. Silence envelopes Rhys, Theo, and me as we shuffle through the opulent lobby and spill out into the cool San Francisco evening.
We pile into the waiting car, each lost in our own thoughts. I lean back against the supple leather seat, trying to stretch the knots from my muscles. As we begin to drive, my mind races, replaying the board’s accusations, their fears…and my own.
“Guys,” Rhys finally says, “that was fucking brutal. Where the hell is Justin?”
I meet his gaze in the dim light of the car’s interior, see the same question mirrored in Theo’s eyes.
“I…” My voice falters. Truth is, I don’t have an answer. Not one that eases the knot in my stomach or clears the fog in my head. “Look,” I start again, steadier this time, “first, we need to confirm where the transfer went. That will give us more to work with. We can’t jump to conclusions.” Though deep down, a sinking feeling tells me Rhys wouldn’t have brought it up if he weren’t already damn sure Justin had done something shady.
“Right,” Theo interjects. “There could be a reasonable explanation. Maybe it’s a strategic move, something he planned that we’re not aware of or a vendor who needed payment.”
“Could be,” Rhys murmurs, though he doesn’t sound convinced. Neither am I. As our finance person, Rhys should be informed of anything happening along those lines. And Justin knows that.
“Until we know more, we keep pushing forward,” I say. “We get Whalley PR to manage the fallout and make sure our side of the story is heard. And we keep proving that our batteries are safe.”
“Sure. But Austin…” Rhys leans forward, elbows on his knees. “If Justin did take the money and run, we’re not just facing a PR nightmare. This is a major blow to our financial stability. Without reserves…I’m not saying it’s going to sink us, but…”
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words. Sink us. That is altogether too real, too imminent. “Then we brace for impact and figure this out,” I reply. “We’ve weathered storms before.”
The car slows to a stop outside Empress by Boon, a swanky cocktail lounge and restaurant we occasionally enjoy. The valet opens the door, and we step out into the night, heading in to drown our worries for a moment. But no amount of whiskey will wash away the bitter taste of betrayal—or the fear of what tomorrow might bring.
Where is Justin? What on earth could have happened to him? And what are we going to do if he’s taken off with that money?