Then Eleanor softened — just a little bit.
« I’ve seen your file, » she said. « I know you created this. Bradley Holloway tells us these are minor software bugs. Is that true? »
« I cannot comment on ongoing operations, » I said.
“As a hypothetical scenario,” she insisted, “if someone were to fire the only person who held the personal cryptographic keys to the hazardous materials certifications, what would happen?”
I leaned back in my chair.
“As a hypothetical scenario,” I said, “the cargo would be seized by environmental protection agencies within seventy-two hours. The fines would amount to approximately three times the value of the cargo.”
There was a long silence.
I heard keyboard noises at the other end of the line.
« Thank you, Thomas, » Eleanor finally said. « Will you be in town on Monday? »
« My schedule is completely flexible. »
« Good, » she said. « Keep your phone on. »
Then she hung up.
And for the first time since Bradley had slid that envelope across the table, I smiled.
Not because people were suffering.
Because reality had finally entered the room.
Day 6 — Monday
The weekend was calm.
Too calm. As if the sky were holding its breath before the storm.
The supermarket opened its doors on Monday morning.
I was in the dairy aisle buying eggs when my phone started vibrating non-stop.
Bradley missed seven calls.
Four text messages.
Message 1: Pick up the phone.
Message 2: We need to talk. It’s urgent.
Message 3: Listen, maybe we were too hasty. I need the area code for Hamburg.
Message 4: Thomas, answer me or I’ll sue you for sabotage.
I burst out laughing between the milk and the butter.
Sabotage.
He fired me. He blocked my access. He revoked my access authorization.
He drove the car off a cliff and then got angry because I wasn’t inside to die with him.
I drove home.
A black sedan was parked in my driveway.
A man in a suit emerged, adopting a posture that betrayed him as a lawyer even before he opened his mouth.
« Mr. Miller? » he asked.
« It’s me. »
He handed me a thick envelope.
« Courtesy of Eleanor Vance, Ironclad. »
I opened it in my kitchen.
This is not a job offer.
A consultant contract.
Independent entrepreneur.
Subject: Crisis management and pre-acquisition audit.
The hourly rate was exorbitant.
Offensively high.
And a note was attached to it:
Meeting at Vertex headquarters on Tuesday at 9:00 a.m. Please be on time.
I stared at the paper for a long time, then I placed it next to my coffee.
Bradley wanted me erased.
Ironclad wanted me to be paid.
Day 7 — Tuesday
I put on my best suit, the anthracite colour one.
I tied my tie with military precision, not to impress them, but because I have always believed that one should present oneself as if one were already at home in the room one enters.
I drove to the Vertex tower. Glass and steel, right in the city center. The building where I had set foot every day for fifteen years.
My badge didn’t work at the turnstile.
Jerry, the security guard — old Jerry, the one who had seen me arrive at 5:30 in the morning and leave at midnight — looked up and grimaced.
« Mr. Miller, » he said softly. « Pleased to see you, sir. Your badge is… red. »
« I know, Jerry, » I said. « I have a visitor’s pass waiting for me. »
Jerry hesitated. « Actually… Mr. Holloway gave strict instructions not to let you on board. He said you posed a security threat. »
I smiled as if I had expected it.
« Call the council chamber, » I said. « Tell them Eleanor Vance is waiting for me. »
Jerry seemed perplexed, but he made the call.
He listened for a second.
Her eyes widened.
He hung up and swallowed.
« Get in, sir, » he said. « They said… run. »
The elevator ride felt like entering the mouth of a monster.
When the doors opened into the operations room, the silence struck me first.
A silence that was not concentrated.
An unproductive silence.
Funeral silence.
People were huddled in booths, whispering. Someone was crying in a corner. The air was thick with the smell of burnt coffee and panic.
Sarah looked up as I passed. Her eyes were red. She gave me a small, trembling wave.
I agreed.
Not cruel.
Not enough.
Just… present.
I arrived in the main conference room. The walls were made of frosted glass, but the voices inside were loud enough to pass through them.
I opened the door.
The room was packed.
On one side, the Vertex management team — wrinkled suits, drawn faces, phones vibrating unnoticed.
Bradley in the center, sweating through his expensive Italian fabric, tie loosened, eyes bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept for days.
On the other side was Ironclad — four people, calm in that terrifying way that only professionals are capable of when the room is on fire.
Eleanor Vance was sitting at the end of the table. She looked up when I entered.
« Ah, » she said. « He’s here. »
Bradley turned around abruptly. His face turned purple.
« What’s he doing here? » he stammered. « I alerted security… »
« I invited him, » Eleanor said, her voice as sharp as a scalpel. « Please, have a seat, Mr. Holloway. »
Bradley pointed at me, his hand trembling.
« This is a breach of contract. He signed a non-compete clause. He has no right to be here. »
« He’s not here as a competitor, » Eleanor said calmly. « He’s here as an external consultant for Ironclad. »
Then she leaned back slightly, her gaze fixed.
« And given that we’ve effectively owned you since this morning’s cash flow crisis, he’s technically your boss. »
The blood left Bradley’s face so quickly it looked like someone had unplugged him.
« What? » he murmured.
I pulled up a chair and sat down. I placed my notebook on the table. I opened it as if it were an ordinary crisis meeting — which, in a way, it was.
Bradley’s voice rose, breaking.
« You sabotaged us. Hamburg. Singapore. You locked the files. »
I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t need to.
« I didn’t lock anything, » I said. « My access was revoked by you last Wednesday at 2:15 PM. »
Bradley’s mouth opened, then closed again.
I continued on, at a steady pace.
« The files require biometric verification every forty-eight hours to remain active. It’s a security protocol. I installed it five years ago precisely to prevent what’s happening today: unauthorized mismanagement. »
« You should have told me! » Bradley shouted.
« You gave me an hour to leave, » I replied. « And you told me the algorithm would take care of it. »
I turned to Eleanor.
« What is the extent of the damage? »
Eleanor slid a sheet towards me.
« The shipment bound for Hamburg was seized this morning, » she said. « Twelve million pounds worth of goods. Four million pounds in fines. »
Bradley made a sound as if he were choking.
« The Singapore wind turbine is stuck at the dock, » Eleanor continued. « The client cancelled an hour ago. That’s eight million. »
Bradley looked like he was about to throw up.
« And since Vertex was unable to meet the solvency requirements for the merger due to penalties, » Eleanor concluded, « the price of the transaction has just been renegotiated. »
She looked at Bradley.
« We are reducing our offering by forty percent. »
Bradley jumped to his feet.
« You can’t do that! We have a signed letter of intent! »
« With performance clauses, » Eleanor said. « Which you have violated multiple times in less than a week. »
She turned towards me.
« Thomas, » she asked, « can you fix it? »
A deathly silence fell over the room.
All eyes turned towards me.
Bradley’s hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He knew his life hung by a thread because of my answer. If I said no, Vertex would collapse. The board would tear him to shreds. The investors would sue. His uncle would ruin him. And for the first time in his life, his lawsuit wouldn’t save him.
I watched Bradley.
I remembered the plush toys on his cuff.
The commentary about dinosaurs.
Wet laughter.
« I can clear the Hamburg cargo in ten minutes, » I said. « I still have the port captain’s personal number. He’ll answer my call. »
Bradley let out a hoarse sigh of relief, like a drowning man regaining air.
“The Singapore contract,” I continued. “I can get it back. The client trusts me. He doesn’t trust Vertex, but he trusts Thomas Miller.”
Bradley nodded too quickly.
« Okay. Okay. Good. You see? We can fix this. » He looked at me as if he was already trying to regain control. « Thomas, get to work. We’ll talk about your re-employment compensation later. »
I laughed.
A truly hilarious moment.
Bradley flinched.
« Are you rehiring me? » I asked. « Bradley, I’m not coming back to work for you. »
I turned to Eleanor.
“I can fix this operational problem,” I said, “but I won’t if the current management stays in place. It’s a liability. Trust with suppliers is broken. As long as he…” I pointed at Bradley, without emphasis, just stating a fact, “…he signs checks, the supply chain is paralyzed.”
Eleanor nodded once.
Then she looked at Bradley.
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