Page 2 of Fool’s Gold

One of them had been there every day since the news broke. He was middle-aged, white, with an unkempt beard and a sign bearing nothing but a photo of a teenager and her birth and death dates. Matt thought of him as Leader.

Leader recovered first and stomped up to Matt. “You killed my daughter, and now you want to give us water?”

Matt nodded. “I do.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Matt had to chuckle at that. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. My job is to put in controls so what happened never happens again. I appreciate you being here. You’re a reminder to me and to everyone else who works here to stay honest and to not ever saygood enough.”

A woman behind Leader, an Asian woman in a light-blue T-shirt, scoffed. “You think you can buy us off with water?”

“No, ma’am, and I wouldn’t even try. The weather forecast said it’s going to be a scorcher, and I don’t want any of you to get dehydrated. Again, you’re important. I’ll see if security has a pop-up that doesn’t have our name splashed all over it. If not, I’ll send someone out to get one.” He took Leader’s stunned hand and shook it before the man could punch him. “You have a great day now.”

He got back into his car and drove to the building that housed the offices. They’d always had underground parking for the executives, and Matt hadn’t worked here until a year ago. He hadn’t had to worry about leaving his car outside to get defaced or worse as the scandal broke. Now he just had to worry about bringing the building down with him if someone bombed the car.

He forced the thought out of his mind. Atlanta PD and the Georgia State Police were doing a great job of providing security. Granted, some of it was coincidental as they worked to find more evidence, but Matt would take what he could get. Either way, the odds of someone bombing his car or even knowing which car to bomb were slim to none.

Of course, you did just show a hundred angry people exactly which car to hit.

He forced himself to focus as he made his way up to the C-Suite.

No one looked up as he cut through the crowded cubicle farm between the elevator and the executive offices. That was good, right? No one was too worried about Matt hearing something nefarious or otherwise criminal. He said hello to a few people on his way in and left his door open as he logged in to check his messages.

Ninety percent of it was hate mail.

He didn’t have time to sort through it. He quickly set up a filter and sent all of it to a folder titled Putrid and then set up another one on Norah’s email titleddont open dead inside. She would understand the joke and not click on it. She’d always been a smart lady.

Then he scanned through the other messages. Three board members wanted to talk about his plans to restructure the company. They felt he was “going overboard” in his attempts to restore public trust, and wanted to pull back from some of Matt’s more drastic plans.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise. Matt was making a ton of changes, and a lot of them would look odd on the surface. If they wanted to say no, all they had to do was pull the cord on Matt’s golden parachute. Matt would be set free, they’d be free to install a new CEO who would be a better puppet, and they could see which way the winds of fortune would take them.

The company would collapse within the year. Matt would bet his life on it. If they wanted to take that risk he’d be more than happy to accommodate them.

But he was willing to explain his thought processes to them, and the rest of the board as well. He messaged the director of board relations and his assistant, Husniya, and asked them to set up a meeting. A virtual meeting would be more than adequate.

His phone rang. He expected it to be Husniya with questions about the meeting, but the youthful tenor on the other end of the line proved to be anyone but his assistant.

“Matt? This is Alex Morales from the FBI. How’s it going?”

Matt almost groaned out loud as all of his muscles tensed up. He was cooperating as much as a man could. He’d given the Feds access to everything, right down to purchasing records for the janitorial department and every employee’s email records. How much more could he give?

Well, whatever it was Morales needed, Matt would give it to him. Matt’s company had killed thousands of people. He’d only agreed to steer Besse into a new direction if they cooperated with investigators. That cooperation needed to extend to him too.

“Not so bad. It’s a beautiful day, and the sun is shining.” He made himself smile, yet again. Eventually, maybe it wouldn’t feel quite so fake anymore, right? “How about you, Agent?”

“It’s hot as balls, Matt. I’m a New York City guy. I wasn’t meant for Atlanta.” He chuckled. “Thank God for Lewis Howard Latimer, right?”

“I’m sorry?” Matt blinked.

“Inventor of the first air-conditioning system. Predated Carrier by over two decades. Look him up, and be thankful for him. Anyway. We’ve noticed an uptick in a certain type of communication.”

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “You probably don’t mean fan mail.”

“Er... no. Ninety percent of the stuff you and your mom are getting is probably just junk—”

“They’re going after my mom now too? No one’s even seen her in twenty years.”

“The lady you live with? Girlfriend? Wife?”

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