Four cents. That was the entire merit bonus Miles Keaton received after sixteen unbroken years at Red Haven Turbine Works.

By six o'clock that evening, the snowstorm had turned into a full-scale blizzard.

Miles sat at the small formica kitchen table inside his modest two-story frame house three miles downriver from the plant. The house was quiet, filled only with the soft ticking of the mantle clock and the low hum of the oil furnace kicking on in the basement.

On the table rested a plate of leftover pot roast, a cold bottle of black lager, and his black leather notebook.

Miles wasn't eating. He sat with his glasses resting on his nose, slowly flipping through the pages of handwritten measurements from six years ago—the initial prototype runs of the Mark-IX housing.

There was a sudden, violent knock at his front door.

The heavy oak door shook on its hinges as someone pounded against the wood with frantic, desperate energy.

Miles didn't rush. He slowly closed his notebook, stood up, and walked down the short hallway. He unlatched the deadbolt and pulled the door open.

Standing on his porch, shivering violently in the freezing wind, were Arthur Pendelton and Jonah Pike. Snow was piled high on Pendelton's wool coat, and his ears were bright, angry red.

"Miles!" Pendelton cried out, his breath pluming in the freezing air. "Thank God you're here! You have to come back to the plant! Right now!"

Miles stood in the doorway, blocking the cold draft with his broad shoulders. "Come inside before you freeze, Jonah."

Jonah stepped into the warm hallway, stomping the heavy snow off his boots onto the rug. Pendelton scrambled in behind him, slamming the door shut and leaning his back against it, panting like a winded dog.

"She's gone crazy, Miles," Jonah said, shaking his head as he pulled off his leather work gloves. "After you hung that red tag and walked out, Celeste ordered the third shift crew to cut the copper wire and bypass your hold stamp."

Miles's eyes went flat and dangerous. "She cut a metrology tag?"

"She ordered the shift supervisor to do it," Jonah said, his voice laced with bitter anger. "She told the floor that your hold was an illegal labor strike and that anyone who refused to run the line would be fired on the spot."

Miles looked at Pendelton.

The plant manager couldn't look him in the eye. He stared down at the wet floorboards, his shoulders slouched in deep shame.

"What happened, Arthur?" Miles asked quietly.

"They tried to run housing number four without your thermal calibration check," Pendelton whispered, his voice cracking. "The spindle drifted. The cutting tool snagged on an uncalibrated alloy pocket. The main bearing sleeve on the three-million-dollar German milling lathe seized up."

Miles didn't express surprise. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"No," Jonah said. "Thank God Bobby saw the smoke and hit the emergency power kill switch before the spindle threw a blade. But the main drive shaft on the German lathe is completely warped. The line is dead in the water, Miles. Dead."

Pendelton fell to his knees right there in the small hallway, grabbing Miles's work sleeve with trembling hands.

"Miles... please," the plant manager wept openly, all corporate composure entirely gone. "Apex found out about the red tag bypass. Harrison Vance went berserk! He told Celeste that if the primary Mark-IX housing isn't certified by a licensed metrologist by Friday at 5:00 PM, Apex is cancelling the deal and suing Winthrop Capital for breach of contract!"

Miles looked down at the kneeling man. "Where is Celeste?"

"She's in her office," Pendelton choked out. "She's been on the phone with her board in New York for three hours. They are threatening to remove her from the investment trust if this deal falls through. She sent me here to bring you back."

"Did she?" Miles asked softly.

"Yes! She said she'd double your hourly rate! She said she'd give you a ten-thousand-dollar cash signing bonus tonight!"

Miles reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out the paper slip, and held it in front of Pendelton's tear-streaked face.

"Four cents, Arthur," Miles said quietly. "She didn't just give me four cents. She gave sixteen years of my life four cents. Tell Ms. Winthrop that if she wants to talk to the Lead Inspector of Red Haven Turbine Works..."