Dr. Barnaby stopped and closed his eyes for a few seconds, recollecting his thoughts. "There will be an investigation into the drone manufacturer of record for the stray drone, and there is a chance we are that manufacturer of record. There is even a greater chance that we supplied components and software for this drone, even if we are not the manufacturer of record. Documents will be subpoenaed; employees will be interrogated, asked to testify. There will be lawsuits, potentially criminal charges, for negligence, at least. There will be civil litigations; a large number of families out there have lost loved ones today."
He paused, rubbing his forehead with his right hand and shielding his eyes for a couple of seconds. "Oh, God… There will also be a strong media attack on us, from what I've seen in the past. Some time ago — I can't recall when — there was the case of a weapons manufacturer that shipped defective ammunition to the Iraqi battlefields, causing the ammo to misfire and wound or kill the soldiers who were handling it. In the case of that company, well, what can I say?… It was completely destroyed by the scandal. Media pressure was huge, driving the stock price into the ground. Investigators found that the errors had been known and reported internally, then discarded by the management. Part of that management is now serving time at a nearby correctional facility. The rest of them are unemployed; no one will hire them now."
"Let's discuss next steps," Tom cut in, changing the path of the discussion to a more positive direction. "We need to establish what we do next, and in what order."
"It's too late," Dr. Barnaby said, shaking his head in disapproval of any action plan.
"I don't think it's too late, if we think fast on our feet and move quickly."
Dr. Barnaby stood abruptly, causing his chair to be thrown back. His face was showing turmoil and anger.
"Give me one scenario," he bellowed, "one single, damn scenario that ends well. You want action?" He paced the floor with his fists clenched, continuing to raise his voice. "I'll give you action. I'll go straight to my basement, get my handgun out of my safe, and spare my wife the shame and embarrassment to see me brought to my knees and dragged in handcuffs out of our home. That's what I would consider action right now." He spat the words in bursts of deep-set anger, riddled with pain.
Tom exchanged a quick look with Steve, encouraging the professionally trained psychologist to take over the handling of the situation.
"We understand how you feel, sir—"
Before he could continue, Steve was abruptly interrupted by another burst of anguish.
"One scenario! That's all I ask for… Is that too much? If you cannot think of a single possibility how this situation will not end in disaster for me, my family, and my company, then why even bother talking about it?"
"I'll give you one scenario," Steve said, changing his approach to a more assertive demeanor. "We crank up the speed, find the responsible people for this mess, and make them pay. You obviously had no idea this was happening. You had suspicions, and you hired us — that's proof of your good intentions right there. Will it fly in the face of any jury, regardless of the number of deaths? Civil lawsuits? Something tells me a strong legal team can negotiate and settle out of court on each and every one of them.
"Maybe the military will pitch in with you, who knows? Do we even know for sure it wasn't their fault? How about the media pressure? We'll get you the best public relations sharks that money can buy, and they'll help you steer through these troubled waters. Stock price? Have you seen the stock market lately? Everyone goes down from time to time, and then they come right back up again. You fix the issue, and then you continue to make better drones. You lose the defense contract? You stick to the consumer market for GPS navigation systems, and you expand to kitchenware, or whatever else your innovative mind will think of next." Steve paused for a few seconds, and then continued, in a much softer, compassionate tone of voice. "That is, of course, if you don't put a bullet through that brilliant brain of yours."
Dr. Barnaby slowed his furious pacing of the room, then came to a stop. He pulled his chair back to the table and sat.
"I'm listening."
Tom went to the whiteboard to take notes.
"We have questions we need answered," Tom started, splitting the whiteboard space in two columns, and titling one side "Questions."
"We need to know the following things," he continued.
• "Who manufactured the stray drone?
• Who deployed it?
• Who was operating it, and from which base?
• What do their records indicate as failure?
• How can we speak with the drone operators?
• Was the drone armed?
• What type of weapons?"
Tom was listing the questions one under the other, arranged neatly in a bulleted list. "Oh, very important," Tom said, and squeezed a few questions at the top of the list:
• "What model was the stray drone?
• What type?
• When was it purchased?
• If it was a NanoLance produced drone, when did it leave manufacturing?
• When was it produced?
• If confirmed, let's try to track it down to the assembly team who built it."
"That's not hard. We give our drones serial numbers that are recorded by the defense clients. We keep detailed records, reflecting these serial numbers, showing all the manufacturing and testing details for each drone," Dr. Barnaby clarified. He was back in problem-solving mode.
"OK. Let's move to actions. We need help in here as soon as possible. We need a strong, legal representation, external counsel. Until we figure out who is doing what at NanoLance, I would recommend against using the internal counsel for this. Steve will set up an emergency appointment with the toughest, meanest son-of-a-bitch lawyer that ever came into existence in this land."
Steve nodded approval, and then disappeared from the room.
Tom listed "lawyer" under the second column, marked "Actions."
"We need strong PR representation. There is an excellent public relations firm here in San Diego. If you recall, a few years ago it handled that huge Salmonella contamination scandal for that deli manufacturer… can't recall the name. All I recall is the company came out of it looking squeaky clean, and no one refrained from buying their product. I'll get that covered. Then, we need you to announce the sale of your stock tomorrow, just as we discussed."
"This will make things even worse!" Dr. Barnaby stood again, agitated.
"No, it won't, if you think about it. The conspirators will assume it's because of the drone crash; they'll rub their hands and make a move fast — carelessly fast. We'll be there, watching and waiting."
"But what about the effect that this combined attack will have on the stock price?"
"Their attack will only be a blip on the radar, among the nonstop wave of interviews, comments, opinions, and every other single way the media will dissect this. However, because of this incident, you will have PR and legal on your side to help, and I am confidently estimating the cumulative effect of their efforts to bring the added media-inflicted damage to zero. Now is the time. Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow is Saturday," Alex intervened.
"Right. Then Monday, or as soon as possible," Tom clarified. "But without any further delay."
"I'll do it. What else?"
"Alex," Tom said, turning toward her. "You need to go back in there and crank up the heat. Make your moves faster than we had originally planned. Let's uncover who's behind all this, in time for us to prepare a good handling of the entire situation."
"Understood," Alex said. No pressure, she thought.
"One more thing," Tom said, turning his attention back to Dr. Barnaby. "Don't worry about the stock price."