Page 24

Rhys

I sit frozen at my keyboard another minute, silently reminding myself that however I feel about this, I have a video call to join. And I am now definitely going to be late. Using my phone, I dash off a quick message with an encrypted app. It feels critical that I get in touch with Theo and Austin without accidentally alerting the wrong person. I forward the emails, including the picture, to my partners.

Guys, I need your eyes on something. Received an email that doesn’t sit right with me. Let’s discuss privately. Can we jump on a different platform after the call with Jeannie?

I include a link to a different video platform than we usually use and hit send, even as I begin logging in to the EnergiFusion call with Jeannie. Seconds tick by—they feel longer than usual—until two new messages pop up in the app like flares in the night sky.

Holy shit. Yes. Austin’s reply is terse, efficient, exactly what I need.

Theo’s message follows suit. No problem. Thank goodness Crystal’s out for the day with her mom.

With that settled, I feel a little bit better. I think for another minute and realize I have to bring Jim into the loop. He’s given me no reason not to trust him, and my entire life is in his hands at the moment, so it doesn’t make much sense to keep this from him. So I forward him the emails as well, inviting him to the private video call with Austin and Theo.

His response is almost instantaneous. Yep, I’ll be there.

If Mason is behind this, then we have a bigger problem than we ever envisioned. But it doesn’t make any sense. What could Mason have done to make Justin disappear? The call with Jeannie is waiting on my screen. I need to join. She’s reporting on her forensic audit of our books.

I click the link and start my video feed. I’m greeted by a grid of familiar faces—Mason’s stoic expression, Theo’s furrowed brow, Austin’s unyielding gaze, and Jeannie’s placid smile as she sits patiently, waiting to begin.

“Everyone here?” I ask, scanning the digital assembly for any sign of hesitation or deceit.

Justin’s warning echoes in my head—don’t trust Mason—but Mason has been a cornerstone of our operations since the beginning. The accusation seems ludicrous, yet the seed of doubt is planted, watered by the recent turmoil. When could Mason have gone to Prague? There’s been little opportunity for such a jaunt. Yet suspicion lingers, like a shadow at the back of my thoughts.

Jeannie shares her screen with a presentation. “Okay, let’s get started.”

I try to concentrate as she takes us through the list of various vendors and explains how things line up. I’m in awe. She has done more than make sure our books were balanced. She’s made sure what was on each invoice was delivered as expected. I’ve never been so grateful to no longer be chief financial officer. She’s a pro, and it shows.

Her presentation changes when she reaches Maloney Chemical, the company that provides our sodium-ion, the essential component of our batteries.

“Mason, I noticed you and Justin signed the only agreement I could find with them,” Jeannie says. “Can you tell us how you came to work with them and if there are any agreements in place that might not be in the contract?”

Mason nods, unwavering under her scrutiny. “Certainly. EnergiFusion was initially working with five providers, but it was hard to manage the supply chain. Crystal and I then searched for companies who could meet our needs on their own and keep up with our production pace, and we sent out a request for proposals to several we thought might fit the bill. But Maloney was the only response we received. Justin and I negotiated final terms with them, and they’ve been EnergiFusion’s source for sodium-ion ever since.”

I watch him closely, trying to detect any crack in his demeanor, any hint that he might be hiding something more than just a business transaction. But Mason is a fortress, revealing nothing.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. We must tread carefully. If there is a betrayer among us, we invited them into our inner circle.

“Who took over managing the relationship with Maloney Chemical after Justin’s departure?” Jeannie asks.

Austin leans in, his face growing larger in his little digital square. “That would be me,” he says.

My fingers pause their tapping. She’s looking for something. I keep my eyes on Austin, searching. “Jeannie,” I interject, “what have you found?”

She adjusts her glasses, peering at us through the sharp glare of her lenses. “The books are clean,” she says. “But Maloney Chemical’s billing records don’t match our delivery logs. They charged us for several shipments that never arrived.”

My eyes widen. “How long has this been happening?”

“Less than a dozen times over the last year,” she replies. “But I’ll need more time to pinpoint exactly when it started and who might be responsible.”

Less than a dozen… That’s still quite a few. My thoughts race, trying to connect dots that are frustratingly out of reach.

She looks down at her notes. “I count eleven missing deliveries.”

“How did you find this?” I ask, trying to push back the anxiety creeping up my neck.

“By pulling the delivery records,” she responds, matter-of-factly. “This is not an accusation against you or the accounting firm you hired. You were only looking at money flowing in and out. That’s what a typical CFO does. But coming into this role with my background in forensic accounting, I wanted a feel for the business. And that process led me to the anomaly.”

I nod slowly, processing this new piece of the puzzle. Money in, money out—it’s the simplest trick in the book, hidden in our midst. Someone has been playing us.

I lean back in my chair, tension winding up my spine like barbed wire. Mason’s face on the screen is impassive as he tells Jeannie, “We’ll need to go over this in finer detail. Jim and I can meet with you later today to dig deeper.” There’s a glint in his eye. Is it eagerness or something darker?

“Let’s not blame Justin just because he’s not here,” Austin says.

“I’m not accusing any of you,” Jeannie assures him. “I’m just trying to figure out the relationship. And if there is blame, it rests squarely on Maloney. They billed us but never delivered.”

“And you’re sure?” Austin asks.

She nods. “We have no record of the deliveries in house.”

Everyone begins talking over one another, and I’m only getting partial words and sentences.

“Let’s have Jim and his team look at the security footage of the receiving docks,” Mason finally says.

A suspicion gnaws at me, relentless. Could Mason be setting us up? The idea takes root in my mind, threatening to grow into full-blown paranoia. If Mason is behind this, then we’ve indeed let the wolf into the chicken coop, and who knows how much damage has already been done?

“Moving forward,” Jeannie interjects, shifting the conversation, “there are areas where we can cut costs.” She flips to the next page of her report. “For starters, switching to a different vendor for office supplies could save us thousands annually. And depending on what Jim’s team finds, we might look for a new sodium-ion vendor.”

“Sounds reasonable,” I reply, my mind only half focused on her suggestions. Jeannie lists several more ideas, each sensible and well-researched. I find myself nodding along, grateful for the distraction and the semblance of normalcy her recommendations bring.

“Thank you, Jeannie,” I say once she finishes. “These are solid insights. I see no reason not to implement them right away.”

“The board wants to meet face to face,” Mason says when we’ve moved on to the next order of business. “A retreat could help us regroup.”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral. “Is that possible while we’re supposed to be staying hidden and scattered?”

“The owner of one of our investment companies has a ranch in Montana that’s available in about two weeks. It’s not far from Yellowstone. It’s secluded, comfortable, and has a private landing strip,” he explains. “We could all fly in and spend a few days making the board feel comfortable with how things are going while you all are away. It would keep you off the radar. And Jim has a full-time staff in place because of everything we do there.” He pauses, eyeing each of us through the screen. “And you can bring your significant others. This is a fun place to visit.”

A retreat in Montana sounds safe enough—quiet, secluded, private—but if someone’s playing games with us, getting the team alone in one place could be a trap.

“Guys, even if it works for the rest of us, I don’t think Crystal can make it,” Theo says. “Her mother is dealing with breast cancer, and they spend a lot of time together. I don’t think she’ll be willing to leave.”

“Of course,” I reply, and the others echo my sentiments. “We can loop her in over video conference if needed.”

“I’ll reach out to check in,” Mason says. “Maybe all of us should do that, just so she feels supported.”

“I’ll get Jim’s take on this retreat possibility and have him start working on timing and logistics if he agrees,” I tell them. Everyone nods, and I conclude the meeting by praising Jeannie for her brilliance. She blushes bright pink and thanks everyone for being so kind to the “new kid.” She vows to keep at it and assures us everything back at the office is going fine.

When the call ends, Austin, Theo, and I immediately join the other call I’ve set up, and I let them know Jim is also going to join.

Theo shifts uncomfortably while we wait. “Crystal’s spending a lot of time with her mother. I haven’t seen her in days.”

“She’s been quiet lately,” Austin adds, his brow furrowed. “Now, we know why.”

“Family comes first,” I say, though the concern lingers. It’s hard enough to be scattered all over the country. If she’s out of the loop entirely, that makes me nervous.

“Agreed,” Austin says. “Let’s just hope we can manage this Montana trip to calm down our board.”

“Here’s hoping,” I murmur just as Jim’s icon pops up. The screen splits to accommodate his feed, and I brace myself for the revelations this conversation might bring.

We’ve barely greeted him when suddenly everyone is talking at once.

“What do you think about the picture?” I whisper, as if the walls themselves might be listening.

“Do you know where Justin is?” Theo asks. “This picture is such a relief,” he adds.

“I agree, but look who’s behind him,” I point out.

“Is that Mason?” Austin says, his voice an octave higher than usual.

My stomach twists as I open the picture again. Mason’s face is there, undeniable, but something about the image feels off. The idea of him betraying us is like a crack running through the foundation of everything we’ve built. And yet, Justin’s warning rings in my ears. “ Don’t trust him .”

“He’s been nothing but supportive since Justin vanished,” Austin continues. “Why would he—”

“Hey,” Jim’s voice crackles through the speakers, bringing us back to focus. “That photo? It’s a fake—a convincing one, but fake all the same.”

“Oh, thank God!” I exclaim. “Mason’s had round-the-clock security for years. Those guys are like his shadows, and none of them is in that photo. No way he was in Prague without them.”

“No way he was in Prague,” Jim says flatly. “Someone’s playing games.”

“Games with high stakes,” I agree. If Mason isn’t our traitor, who is? And why frame him? Why divide us? “Jim, I turn my laptop off every night, and this morning when I walked in, it was on, and that email and photo were in my inbox.”

He nods. “I have Gage’s team on that. I don’t know how anyone could have gotten inside the firewall. They’ll find out for us.”

I look down at my laptop, suddenly afraid to touch it. “Am I okay to work?”

Jim steps away from the camera for a few moments, and I put my hands in my lap. When he returns, he has Gage with him.

“We can tell no one is on your laptop now,” Gage says. “They don’t have permanent, constant access. But we should run some diagnostics when we can to make sure we’re not missing anything. But even if we have, they’re likely capturing data and sending later. We can stop that before it happens.”

“I’m stepping away from my desk this afternoon. I’ll let you know when, and you can get into my laptop,” I offer.

“That would be great. Text me when you’re ready to leave, and we’ll get on.”

“Thanks, Gage. Jim, who could be behind this?”

“My thought is it must be someone at EnergiFusion,” Jim says.

Everyone’s eyes go wide.

“We’ll keep working on it, and Gage’s team will make sure we haven’t missed a trojan horse on your laptop.”

“I’ll let you know when I’m done for today.” I lean back in my chair, the tension in my chest slowly unwinding.

“Is it all right if I bring Mason into this call?” Jim asks.

“Of course,” I say. “Give him the link.”

Minutes drag like hours until Mason’s familiar face pops up among ours. His eyes are shadows of frustration, his jaw set hard. “I can’t believe someone would suggest I had anything to do with Justin’s disappearance,” he says coldly. It’s clear he’s wounded by the accusation.

“Neither can we,” I assure him, glancing at the others for confirmation. They nod, their digital heads bobbing on the screen.

We dive into theories, trying to make sense of what the person behind this is trying to do. Who would benefit from pitting us against each other? The company has been our collective life’s work. Sabotaging it would be like setting fire to your own home.

“Could be Justin himself,” Theo muses suddenly, breaking a brief silence. “He’s the piece missing from this whole mess.”

“Justin…?” I trail off, considering. The idea is as unsettling as it is plausible. Justin’s absence has left a void filled with questions and fear. Could he really be orchestrating this from wherever he’s hiding? To what end?

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Jim says cautiously. “We need more information. Let’s focus on what we know and work from there.” He clears his throat. “Only Justin and Austin had any actual contact with Stan Richards over at Maloney Chemical,” he says. “We might have to accept that Justin was involved in something he didn’t let the rest of you in on.”

I lean back in my chair, fingertips drumming against the cool wood of my desk. Justin up to no good? The thought sours my stomach. “Maybe,” I reply slowly. “But it’s not sitting right with me. There’s an angle we’re not seeing.” My gaze flicks between the faces of my friends and confidants. I search their eyes for doubt, for fear, for that glimmer of treachery. But all I see is my confusion mirrored back at me.

“It doesn’t add up,” I continue. “Justin wouldn’t risk everything we’ve built on a shady deal. And what benefit would he gain? The counterfeit batteries are out of distribution. Whoever was behind that isn’t making any money on them now. Why would Justin get involved in that mess and undercut EnergiFusion? That’s where all his money comes from.”

Mason nods gravely, but I can see skepticism in his eyes. “What do you suggest?” he asks, leaning forward into his webcam.

I take a deep breath, buying myself a moment. “We dig deeper. If someone’s setting Justin up—or worse, if he’s in trouble—we owe it to him to find out the truth. Mostly, I think we just need to let the guys at Clear investigate. There are facts still out there, waiting to be uncovered.”

After a moment, everyone nods. Everything in me itches to take action, but it feels like walking through a minefield. I don’t know what that action would be. My focus should be on the business. Clear Security has this covered. It’s what we pay them for. It’s just proving difficult to keep things separate because it’s all so entwined.

“Since we don’t know where the threat is coming from, I suggest we keep this information between us,” Mason says. “None of the board members or staff needs to be made aware.”

Once again, everyone nods their agreement.