Page 2 of Clear Shot

That was part of today’s plan, though. Work from home so I can do laundry and pack. My flight to San Jose leaves at the ass-crack of dawn, so the plan was to get everything done and get to bed early.

“Sorry, everyone.” Randy comes into the conference room looking…harried? Worried? Freaked out? Hard to tell because I’ve never seen Randy’s hair sticking up or his shirt on inside out.

He stands at the head of the long table resting his hands on it. He drops his head for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, and then slowly lifts it, looking around.

“I have bad news,” he says finally. “Last night around nine o’clock, I got a strange alert from the bank, telling me our mainaccount, the one we pay all the bills and salaries from, was under the minimum amount. When I went in and checked, someone had drained the account. Over four million dollars.”

Jesus.

I can hear the almost collective sharp intake of breath around the room.

“You got hacked?” Seth asks incredulously.

“No.” Randy swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Glen took it.”

“Why would Glen take it?” Dana asks in confusion.

“Because he took the money and bankrupted us before leaving the country.”

The room goes dead silent.

“What does that mean?” I ask finally.

“It means… the company is bankrupt and we’re all out of work.”

This time, the room erupts in conversation, anger, and yelling.

“Let me finish!” Randy yells after a few minutes of people talking on top of each other. When it’s finally quiet again, he continues. “Like most big companies, we have multiple accounts. The one he drained is our main operating account. The others require both of us in person to move money, so he was shut out there. Unfortunately, there isn’t a whole lot. But I’ve got my lawyer working on it and as soon as I can get the money released, I’ll split it among all of you. I’m not even taking any for myself.” He pauses. “It should come out to about ten grand a piece. I know that’s not a great severance package, but as of now, our doors are closed.”

“Instead of paying us, why can’t you keep the doors open?” Seth asks.

“Because we have two big loan payments coming up for the hardware we leased, and once I pay the building lease andutilities, we’ll have zero operating revenue. There’s no way for me to keep the company going. Unless you all plan to work for free.”

“Don’t we have sales revenue coming in?” I ask.

He nods. “Sure, but short-term, it’s not enough to keep the doors open. I’m sorry, guys. I wish things could be different.” He looks so defeated, I feel sorry for him. VineTech was his brainchild, his baby—and I’m furious that Glen would betray him this way.

“This was about money?” Seth asks finally. “Like, Glen just took it and moved to Tahiti or something?”

“I don’t know where he’s gone, but I’m pretty sure he left the country. The money was moved to an account in the Cayman Islands, so he could be anywhere.”

“Well, fuck.” Dana looks like she’s going to cry. “I’m eight weeks pregnant. No one is going to hire me if they find out I’m pregnant. And what am I going to do about insurance? Can I even get COBRA if the company goes under?”

There are a lot of questions, and not nearly enough answers.

It goes on for about an hour, as we try to brainstorm, come up with ideas on ways to keep things going.

Randy even shows us the company bank accounts—including the one that currently has a ninety-two-dollar balance.

But there doesn’t appear to be anything we can do, even if we were willing to work for free for a month or two. Hardware for a tech company is expensive, and the amount of money to lease the offices in this building is staggering. I had no idea it cost so much. Hundreds of thousands of dollars to run the company monthly—and that’s before payroll.

“Hana, I’d like to see you in my office privately,” Randy says quietly when everyone starts to leave.

“Okay.” I follow him in confusion, exchanging a strange look with Dana. Why would he single me out? He just wrote us allchecks and told us to cash them immediately, before creditors came after him.

“What’s going on?” I ask once he closes the door.

“I’m afraid your day is going to go from bad to worse.”