Four
Austin
The next morning, I’m pacing the floor of my office, remnants of last night’s encounter at the bar still gnawing at me like a persistent itch. That woman, with her wild eyes and reckless abandon, just tossing my name out for the tab as if it’s nothing. I can afford it, sure, but it’s the nerve that burns. Who does that? Though in the same moment, I acknowledge that I’m likely hung up on it because the other things I have to think about are even less pleasant.
As if on cue, the glass door to my office swings open with more force than necessary, and I can tell by the set of Theo’s jaw and Rhys’s furrowed brow that our morning is about to take a nosedive. I swivel in my chair to face them, feeling a knot in my stomach.
“Crystal called me last night,” Theo says as he drops into the chair. “She’s freaking out. She hasn’t seen Justin since Saturday morning.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. Since Saturday? This can’t be good. “Did she say where he went?”
Rhys leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “She thought he was with us. And when she didn’t hear from him, she checked with his mom in Denver.”
Fuck. If she’s called Gina, Crystal is super worried.
“Gina called his dad, and no one has heard from him,” Theo adds.
“Damn.” I scrub a hand through my hair. We used to talk to each other every day. What happened to us? Why has it been four days and we’re just figuring this out? Justin vanishing... It’s not just unexpected. It’s alarming.
“Have you guys thought any more about the money?” Rhys asks, pushing away from the doorway and pacing. “I can’t find any reason he would have done what he did with that transfer. So that’s a whole other mess if it gets out.”
The money issue is a minefield I’m not ready to step into—not until we have more information. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I say, trying to be the voice of reason. “Right now, we need to focus on finding Justin.”
“True,” Theo concedes, drumming his fingers on the armrest. “But where do we even start? Also, Crystal said she’s calling the police…”
“Then we cooperate,” I say firmly. “We tell them what we know, which isn’t much.”
“Exactly.” Rhys stops pacing and looks at me. “It’s not lying. We don’t know anything. All we can do is speculate, and that’s not going to help anyone.”
“Speculation won’t, but searching will,” I assert, standing up. I feel the need to do something, anything, to break through the paralysis fear brings. “Let’s retrace his steps from Friday. Dig through his calendar, call people he met. Anything that might give us a clue.”
“He spent some time in the lab, and then I went to dinner with him and Crystal on Friday night,” Theo says, already pulling out his phone. His expression is grim. “He was fine. He might have been feeling a little under the weather, but nothing to change our plans. And they were talking about Tuscany and not IVF for a change.”
I cringe. “That has been hard on them.” Justin and Crystal have been having a tough time getting pregnant. “Police will want to know about the missing money,” I add after a moment. There’s no way around that.
Theo scratches his neck, a nervous tell I’ve come to recognize. “Yeah, but is it connected? We don’t know if it’s related.”
“He could be just...on a bender,” Rhys adds.
He doesn’t believe his own words; none of us do. Justin’s never been on a bender before.
“Look,” I begin, “we can’t ignore the elephant in the room. Justin’s our friend, but he’s also the CEO.” My voice falters. “If there’s been foul play—”
“Then we need all the facts first,” Theo interjects. “We talk to Mason. His company owns a part of the business. He can decide if we’re going to tell the police about the missing money.”
“Agreed,” Rhys says with a nod. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Mason might have some insight, a paper trail, something we’re overlooking.”
“Okay. Will you guys get to work on that? I need to get back to the lab and see what we can make happen today. This battery-fire situation is not going anywhere.”
Once they’ve agreed, I stalk over to the lab, where the stench of electrical burn greets me. The team is huddled over a battery unit, instruments probing like surgeons at an autopsy.
“Any luck?” I ask, though the looks on their faces tell me all I need to know.
“Nothing,” Harrison Perkins replies. “We’ve tried everything—overcharging, puncturing a cell, extreme temperatures. We even ran it at full capacity all night long. It’s like these things refuse to fail on command.”
“Which is ironic, given the circumstances,” Dan Hartley, one of the engineers in the lab, adds dryly from his perch by the diagnostics computer.
“Let’s keep at it,” I say, clapping Harrison on the back. “We have to figure out how our batteries are catching fire.” I’d like to blame the auto manufacturers, but there’s been an issue with American, German, and Korean vehicles. We’re the common denominator. So there’s nothing to be done but continue testing.
Hours bleed into each other as we push the batteries to their limits. Yet they remain stubbornly inert, taunting us with their stability.
I rub at the tension knotting my neck as I glance around the lab. The air crackles with unease, each team member stewing in their own frustration. Dan is snapping at one of the junior techs again, and Harrison’s terse replies slice through the thick atmosphere. I step in before it escalates, soothing egos and smoothing ruffled feathers. It’s a dance I’m all too familiar with, playing peacemaker when I should lead the charge against our real adversary, the defective batteries.
“Come on, guys,” I intervene. “We’re all on edge, but turning on each other isn’t going to solve this thing.”
They nod, albeit grudgingly, and return to their stations. I watch them for a moment, feeling like a captain trying to keep his ship from capsizing in a storm. All hands are on deck, yet the breach widens.
It’s getting close to lunch time, so I retreat to my office, closing the door on the discord. Leaning back in my chair, I pull out my phone and dial Mason Sullivan. He picks up on the second ring.
“Hey, Austin. Got something for me?” Mason’s voice is smooth, always composed.
“Fortunately or unfortunately, no breakthroughs,” I say, staring out the window. “The batteries won’t cooperate. We can’t get one to catch fire under controlled conditions. That kind of stability feels like something to celebrate, but it doesn’t explain why cars with our batteries are catching fire.”
There’s a pause, and I can almost hear Mason processing the information. “That doesn’t make sense,” he finally says. “What about Justin? Have you heard from him?”
“Nothing. No calls, no emails, not a single trace. Theo says Crystal is worried. She may have gone to the police.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“All right, we need to regroup. I’ll set up lunch at Waterbar in their private room. Jim Adelson from Clear Security will join us. I want everyone there, understand?”
“Got it,” I confirm, though the thought of looping in security makes it real. What if Justin just decided he’d had it and left with the money? There’s no hiding anything after this. “When?”
“How about twelve thirty? Be ready to lay it all out.”
“Will do.” I end the call, a deep sigh escaping me. I need to rally the troops. We have to be there in less than an hour.
I return to the lab and let Theo and Rhys know what’s been scheduled for us.
“Let’s talk about this in my office,” Rhys suggests, leading the way. His space is meticulous, a reflection of the man himself, and right now, it feels like the last bastion of order in the mess that’s become our reality.
Once the door clicks shut, Rhys turns to us. “Should we bring up the missing funds?”
I can almost see Theo’s mind churning, weighing every possible outcome in rapid succession. He finally speaks, his voice low. “If we don’t, and they find out later, it’ll look worse. We need help. From both Mason and Clear Security.”
“Agreed,” I say, though the idea of confessing our vulnerability twists in my gut. “SHN is our largest partner. They own thirty-five percent of EnergiFusion. Keeping them in the dark could backfire spectacularly.”
“Then it’s settled,” Rhys concludes. “Full transparency. It’s the only card we have left to play.”
“Do we know where the money went?” I ask.
Rhys looks out the window. “It’s some bank in the Caymans.”
I nod. None of this makes any sense.
A little while later, Steve Bauer, my bodyguard and driver from Clear Security, meets us downstairs in a Suburban. I try to fly under the radar without Steve in tow as much as possible, but it’s great to have him drive me when I don’t want to deal with parking. We pile in, and minutes later, the sleek black vehicle pulls up to Waterbar at the base of the Bay Bridge. Steve gives a nod as we step out.
“Thanks,” I murmur, adjusting the cuff of my jacket.
“Of course, Mr. Sands. I’ll be here with the car,” he replies.
Inside, the murmurs of scattered conversations fade as we approach the private room. Mason and Jim are already here, their heads close together in what looks like a serious discussion. They look up as we enter, their expressions an unsettling mix of concern and anticipation.
“Sorry we’re late,” Theo says, though the clock on the wall tells me we’re exactly on time. “Crystal won’t be coming. She’s waiting for the police to arrive.”
Jim nods, but the server appears almost immediately, so he doesn’t comment on that. No one speaks until she’s done taking our orders.
“Any word from Justin?” Mason’s voice cuts through the small talk like a knife, his gaze sharp and assessing.
“Nothing,” Theo answers, his frown deepening. “We’ve considered everything—kidnapping… But there’s been no demand, no contact.”
“He could just be laying low,” I add, even as I wonder what we could have done to prevent this mess Justin has gotten himself into.
Justin’s a good guy. As our CEO he’s worked hard to make sure we get it all done. He’s had some challenges with the direction the board wants for the company and slow response from certain suppliers lately, but he’s never let it get to him—as far as I knew. Since these battery fires began, he’s been here with us in the lab, trying to get it figured out. I highly doubt he would just abandon us.
“And you said Crystal has reached out to the police?” Mason confirms.
Theo nods. “That’s where she is now. They were coming to her place to discuss the disappearance.”
“I think we’ll have Jim’s team start looking for him as well,” Mason decides on our behalf.
Rhys shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “There’s another issue,” he says, his voice steady despite the bomb he’s about to drop. “There’s a significant amount missing from the company accounts.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Mason’s face becomes an inscrutable mask while Jim’s eyes narrow, a predator zeroing in on prey.
“Missing money?” Mason finally repeats.
“Discrepancies we can’t account for,” I explain, feeling the burden of leadership weigh on me like never before.
“How much?” Mason asks.
“Near as I can tell, it’s in the seven-figure range,” Rhys says.
“When did you figure this out?” he asks.
“The accountant asked me about the missing funds last week, but I didn’t understand what they meant until I’d done some research, and I wasn’t sure until this morning,” Rhys says smoothly, stretching the truth just a bit.
Mason looks at the three of us. “Anything else going on with the company I need to know?”
Rhys, Theo, and I all shake our heads.
“But just to review, Whalley PR has done their job getting the word out that we’ve been unable to duplicate any fires, and the news has mostly moved on to something else,” I note.
“Until another car catches fire, at least,” Mason counters.
Reluctantly, I nod. EnergiFusion is our life’s work, but Mason holds the reins, especially now with money missing and Justin AWOL.
Jim nods, his jaw set. “We’ll get on this right away,” he assures us, pulling his phone from his inner jacket pocket. He pushes a few buttons, and the whoosh of an email sounds. His swift, decisive action is a small comfort, but I can’t shake the feeling that we’re on the precipice of something much larger than any of us realize.
“Thank you,” I say. We’re exposed now, vulnerabilities laid bare before those who hold the power to either save us or let us drown.
The server delivers our meals, and my nerves threaten to overwhelm my appetite.
“Let’s eat,” Mason suggests, effectively ending the discussion for now. But the weight of our conversation lingers, heavy in the air.
We eat and talk about the Goldminers’ season and whether or not they’ll make the World Series this year. I manage to pick at my halibut, and as we wrap up our lunch, the conversation circles back to EnergiFusion.
“I’m meeting with Whalley again later today,” I tell them. “Do we want to say anything about Justin’s disappearance? They’re getting calls.”
Mason steeples his hands in front of him as he considers my question. “No, I don’t think so. I think since you’re head of technology, it makes sense that you’re the face of this. Are they going to have you do a press tour?”
“I hope not, but I’ll do whatever they suggest. It seems quiet right now, so maybe it’s best we’re not dredging up the battery problem again until we have real information.” I drum my fingers on the polished surface of the table, trying to leash the restless energy pulsing through me.
Rhys and Theo look just as tense, their eyes fixed on Jim Adelson as he slides a slim folder across the table toward us.
“Here’s what we’ve got,” Jim says. “Our team’s been crunching data nonstop.”
I snatch the folder, flipping it open. The words blur before my eyes, coalescing into graphs and reports that paint an alarming picture. “China,” I murmur, scanning the pages. “They’re the main market for EV battery production…”
“Exactly,” Jim cuts in. “With over forty million electric vehicles, it’s an obvious possibility. Chinese companies have struggled to figure out the sodium-ion battery, and suddenly they have it? Breaking into the North American market by sabotaging EnergiFusion wouldn’t be below them.”
“Is there any proof we’re behind the fires?” I ask. Because maybe we’re not. Sodium ions are incredibly stable, as our many lab tests have confirmed. Something else has to be happening in these accidents.
“No. Not yet.” Jim’s frown deepens. “But we’ll get to the bottom of it. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration—NHTSA—has pulled the batteries from six different electric-vehicle fires over the last three months. I’ve asked for serial and lot numbers on each of them.”
I nod. “That will be extremely helpful. We can see which of our factories they came from and backtrack to what is causing the fires. Thanks, Jim,” I say, but my mind is elsewhere, chasing down the implications like shadows flitting just out of reach. If only Justin were here. He’d have insights, maybe even answers.
I push back from the table. “Where the hell is Justin? This isn’t like him. If he’s hiding out to avoid the scrutiny of the press…” I shake my head. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“Crystal’s filed a missing person’s report,” Theo interjects, holding up his phone. “I just got confirmation from her. And his mom will be here tomorrow.”
“Damn.” I rake a hand through my hair. Justin, where are you? Someone should have heard from him. That isn’t a good sign.
We exchange no further words on the matter, the urgency unspoken as we rise from our seats. There’s work to be done, long hours stretching ahead. And the specter of Justin’s absence looms over us. Is his disappearance related to the battery fires or something else? Are we dealing with one problem or two?