Chapter 7 - The Emergency Session
Two hours later, the atmosphere inside the glass-and-steel headquarters of Langford Aeronautics at Redwood Executive Airfield was suffocatingly solemn.
The main conference room on the top floor overlooked the rainy tarmac below, where fire crews were still spraying foam over the scorched pavement where the demonstration jet had been parked.
Inside the boardroom, twelve members of the board of directors sat around a long mahogany table. At the head of the room stood Bryce Callaway, wearing a dark suit, his face contorted into a posture of practiced, somber grief. Beside him sat Russell Keane, holding a tablet and looking nervously toward the door.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Bryce spoke, his voice trembling with artificial emotion as he addressed the board. "It is with a heavy heart that I must confirm the loss of our chief executive, Audrey Langford, along with an unidentified maintenance contractor, aboard the Asterion 900 prototype."
A collective murmur of grief swept through the board members.
"Preliminary reports from our fleet maintenance director, Russell Keane," Bryce continued, gesturing toward Russell, "indicate that an unauthorized contract technician tampered with the engine fuel lines prior to departure, causing an uncontainable engine fire and subsequent loss of flight control over the ocean."
"That is a lie," a board member interrupted. "Audrey was warned about a vibration issue—"
"The technician was unvetted," Bryce cut her off smoothly, leaning his palms on the table. "And under Clause 9 of our corporate bylaws, in the event of the Chief Executive's death or permanent incapacitation, executive authority immediately transfers to the Chief Operating Officer to stabilize stock value before the market opens tomorrow morning."
Bryce pulled a thick legal document from his leather binder and set a fountain pen beside it.
"I have drafted an emergency resolution granting my investment consortium voting control to finalize the three-billion-dollar defense merger. I ask for your signatures now."
The board members looked at one another. Two of them picked up their pens, preparing to sign the authorization.
Russell Keane let out a quiet sigh of relief, stepping back toward the glass window.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the boardroom swung open with a resounding thud that echoed off the glass walls.
Every head at the table snapped toward the entrance.
Standing in the doorway was Audrey Langford. Her hair was damp, her face streaked with dried soot, her clothing torn and wet from the storm. Beside her stood Travis Barlow in his grease-stained coveralls, clutching a heavy industrial laptop under his arm.
Bryce Callaway’s fountain pen slipped from his hand, rolling across the mahogany table and falling to the floor with a tiny click.
Russell Keane took a frantic step backward, slamming his back against the glass window, his face draining of every drop of color.
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"Audrey?" Bryce gasped, his voice cracking violently. "You... you were on that plane! It crashed six miles offshore!"
"I was on that plane, Bryce," Audrey said, her voice dropping into a register of icy, absolute authority as she strode into the room. "And it didn't crash offshore. It’s sitting on the runway at Point Reyes."
