by Peter Parken
He looked up and scanned the faces of his team. Then he spoke.
“We’ve had an incredible setback. It was tragic and horrible, and no doubt the publicity alone is hurting us severely. Ralph can comment about that in a few minutes. I’ve assigned tasks to each of you, and I’ll want you to report today to all of us your findings so far. So much is still up in the air, so I don’t expect that you’ll have all the answers yet. But we’ll plod away until we get them.
“We’re not going to lay down and die. We’ll fight back. I don’t think for a second that we did anything wrong. This is the most unusual accident in so many ways—there has been nothing like it in the history of rollercoasters, and we’ll chat about that. There are answers—we just have to find them.
“I visited the lone survivor, Shelby Sutcliffe, in the hospital within a couple days of the accident. No severe injuries and I hear that she’s been released now and is doing fine. A lovely young woman, no doubt. We won’t be able to count on her being on our side though. She was very angry when she discovered who I was. So, her testimony probably won’t help us at all—although, at this point, I have no idea what she will say or what she observed while on the ride.”
Helen interrupted. “Nate, do you think the fact that you risked your life to save hers will have any mitigating impact on her testimony?”
Nate shook his head. “No, I’m not under any illusions about that.”
He continued. “I have some things of my own that I want to share with all of you, but I’ll leave that until a little bit later. Helen, since you asked the first question, why don’t we start with your report? Go ahead.”
“Well, from a Human Resources standpoint, everyone is in shock. Our people are worried, and for good reason. We’ve had no resignations yet, but I fear that will come. Some of our competitors will become predatory, sensing a death. They’ll pounce and try to lure some of our best people away—particularly our engineers. They’re in big demand. And, of course, our competitors aren’t just in the thrill ride business—very few engineering firms specialize as narrowly as we do. Most do general engineering: bridges, dams, skyscrapers, aviation, automotive, etc. We specialize in just amusement devices, but our engineers are qualified to do virtually anything. So—we have a big field of competitors out there to contend with; they’ll capitalize on the instability and try to steal our people. And, of course, they’ll sweeten the pot by offering big salaries and signing bonuses.”
Everyone around the table was nodding in agreement.
“Anything else at this point, Helen?”
“No, I just wanted to outline the lay of the land at this early stage.”
“Fine. Thank you. Okay, Ralph, let’s hear it from a Marketing standpoint.”
Ralph Woods glanced around the table. All eyes were on him, because Marketing was the engine that drove any company. It was the finger on the pulse and its job was to create the right environment for healthy revenues to take place. He cleared his throat.
“Folks, things are happening fast. I’ve already received notices of cancellation on three of our lucrative merchandising contracts. And, as you all know, we don’t just design and manufacture rollercoasters—that’s just what we’ve become known for. But, what most of the general public isn’t aware of is that we design and manufacture an entire range of amusement and resort devices. From waterslides, go-carts, Ferris wheels, and gondolas—right up to new prototypes of Formula 1 racecars and portable stages for rock concerts. We do virtually anything entertainment-related.
“Suddenly, no one’s talking to us. All of the current projects we have on the go have had ‘hold’ orders put on them. But, even worse than that, our service contracts are being replaced mid-stream. As you know, a sizeable portion of our revenue comes from contracts with amusement parks for maintaining and servicing not only what we build, but for all rides and amusement devices, even those manufactured by others. We have the world-famous expertise that has driven amusement parks to outsource their maintenance with us. We’ve received several suspensions already and I expect more will follow.”
Nate pointed his finger at Robin Gilchrist. “Robin, give us the legal view. Can they do that? We have signed contracts for all of these endeavors.”
Robin nodded her head. “Yes, Nate. They have every right to do that. All of our contracts contain two-way exit clauses—or at the very least suspensions—in the event that either party is involved in any high profile public relations incident that might reflect badly on the other party—or cause a lack of confidence.”
Nate protested. “But nothing’s been proven yet!”
Robin cleared her throat. “No, and the contracts don’t require that anything be proven. And you can understand why—the way the court and investigative process works, it might sometimes take years for proof to be clear. A party can’t be expected to remain in a contract that might affect their business, suffering and waiting, while the courts drag their heels. And, think of it, even if something is proven, appeals can drag it out even further.”
Nate picked up his pen and made some notes.
“Okay, Robin, I understand. Since you’ve taken the floor, why don’t you fill us in on the legal landscape right now?”
Robin opened her file and glanced at the contents before speaking. “Okay, a Class Action has been filed by the legal firm, Feinstein and Sons. The court has accepted the registration—no preliminary court date has been assigned yet. All twenty-five families of the deceased riders have signed on. And…you’ll find this interesting—so far Shelby Sutcliffe has not signed the petition. I don’t know why.”
“Hmm…that is interesting. Is that good news for us or bad news?”
“Hard to say—she’s the only rider who’s alive and of course her testimony will be important either way. But…and this is a big ‘but’…perhaps there’s something she knows that might not work in favor of the lawsuit. Maybe for that reason, they haven’t pursued her. Or…she plans on launching her own lawsuit, which I seriously doubt. Any half-decent lawyer will tell her that her best chance at a settlement is to join the Class Action. By the time the courts get around to finally hearing her case, there might not be much money left to go around.”
Nate nodded. “Which begs the question, how much money is there to go around?”
“We have liability insurance for 300 million.”
And what’s the Class Action filed at?”
“For 500 million.”
There was a collective gasp around the table.
“So, we’re 200 million short.”
“Yes, but remember, they have to convince the jury or judge of that quantum. It might settle at far less than that—and these cases seldom get to court. They usually settle on the courthouse steps for much less than the amount filed.”
Nate rubbed his forehead. “But, let’s say worse case here. If it settles for 500 million, we’ll be short.”
“Yes. We’d have to sell assets.”
Nate looked over at his Vice President of Finance, Jim Watkins, one of the best chartered accountants in Virginia. “Your assessment?”
Jim looked down at his notes. “Nate, we have 100 million in cash and securities. Another 50 million in hard assets. And 100 million in Directors and Officers Liability, but I doubt we could call on that—that’s designed more for financial losses not related to death or tangible property damage. And then…we have all of our personal assets at stake. As directors and officers, we’re personally liable under the law.”
Nate raised his voice. “Hold on one second! The last market valuation of Flying Machines Inc. conducted with our auditors brought us to an approximation of 1 billion dollars in shareholders’ equity.” Nate gestured with his hand in a sweeping motion around the table. “Which is us collectively. That’s what our investment in the company is worth. That’s what the company is worth. So, we should be able to leverage that for bank loans to satisfy the lawsuit.”
Jim’s face bore a look of resignation. “No, Nat
e, that’s not the way it would work. If the company can’t satisfy the judgment out of insurance monies or liquid assets, Flying Machines Inc. will essentially be bankrupt. Our collective investment will be worthless.”
Nate stared at Jim for a few seconds, then shook his head and looked back at Robin. “Okay, we’ll just have to fight this. We’ll prove that we weren’t negligent.”
Robin took a deep breath before speaking. “Nate, it doesn’t matter. Virginia is a Strict Liability state. That’s the law of the land. All we’re going to be arguing in court is the quantum, not who was at fault. As long as the court does not see that there was another cause involved, or an intervening cause, it doesn’t make any difference whether or not we were negligent. We’re on the hook.”
Nate leaned back in his chair and sighed. “You’ve explained that to me before, Robin. I’m sorry; it probably never really sunk in until this very moment. I guess it just didn’t seem real to me before.”
“I understand.”
Nate leaned forward and started scribbling some notes in his binder. Then he looked up and proclaimed, “Well, there had to be an intervening cause—we all know that. We were not at fault. And I have a couple of things to share with you all in a few minutes. In the meantime, we need to do what we can to redeem ourselves. Our only hope is to prove what really happened. Tom, I asked you to get out to the site to see what you could find out—see when the NTSB would be ready to allow us and our insurers to have a look at the wreckage.”
Tom took a long sip of his water. “I was looking for you around noon today, Nate, but apparently you had a business lunch. Wanted to bring you up to date before this meeting. Yes, I was able to visit the site this morning.”
Nate was feeling encouraged all of a sudden. “Okay, great. What were you allowed to see?”
“Nothing.”
“What?!”
“There was nothing to see. The Black Mamba has been entirely dismantled. And from what I was able to determine, the wreckage has been hauled away to an undisclosed location.”
Nate stood up and slammed his fists onto the table. “They can’t do that! That’s ridiculous! How can we possibly defend ourselves?!”
Tom ignored the outburst and continued, “I was given the name of the NTSB guy, a man by the name of John Fletcher—the most senior investigator there. I called him and challenged him on this. His report is complete now. He emailed it to me and I’ll share it with all of you. In any event, his response to my challenge was that the NTSB was claiming Eminent Domain on the wreckage.”
Nate was dumbfounded. He looked over at Robin. “What the fuck is that?”
Robin swallowed hard. “It’s a legal principle that allows governments to confiscate property if it is in the greater good to do so. I’ve never seen it used for something like this before, but this is the government—they can pretty much do what they want and trying to challenge them in court could take years, even if the courts allow such a challenge—which is unlikely.”
Nate felt his left eye beginning to twitch. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t even understand why the NTSB investigated this to begin with. This is not normal at all.”
Robin nodded. “I agree. But…again…this is the government and we’re just a corporation. It’s David versus Goliath.”
Nate looked back at Tom. “Okay, give us the executive summary of Mr. Fletcher’s report.”
“It says that there was a faulty weld at the top of the second hill, and that it snapped right at that point.”
Nate felt like he was going to explode. “That’s absolute bullshit! I personally designed the superstructure and the track itself—the only welds used were on straight-aways and on the lower inclines of the hills. There were NO welds at the top of any hill. The tracks on those hills were solid steel!”
Tom nodded. “We know that, Nate. I’m just telling you what the report says.”
“And what does the report say about the lap bars? They were in the ‘up’ position at the moment of the accident.”
Tom looked at his notes. “Just says that the impact with the split track caused the bars to disengage.”
Nate looked over at Ron Collens, his Vice President of Electrical and Systems Engineering. “What do you say to that? Is that possible?”
“No, not really. We could do some tests to make sure. But, those ratchet locking mechanisms were designed to open only three ways: upon entering the station at the end of the ride, manually if we had to, or…by remote control. They had their own dedicated radio frequency. I don’t see how an impact with anything would cause those things to disengage.”
Nate started pacing the boardroom, talking as he walked. “Okay, we have several things that make no sense at all. Let me summarize for us: the NTSB investigated an accident that is outside its jurisdiction; the wreckage has been dismantled and removed without us or our insurers having a chance to inspect it; the report says the accident was caused by a faulty weld in a section of the track where there were no welds; and last but not least, the report says the lap bars disengaged on impact when our knowledge tells us that would be unlikely to happen. Have I missed anything?”
Silence around the table.
“Okay, I’m going to share a couple of things with all of you. And what I’m going to share stays within this room.”
Nate took a slow slip of water, then a deep breath. “You all know the…special…skills I possess. I notice things better than most, and can etch them into my brain for recall later. Sometimes, I don’t take notice of specific details right away, but my photographic memory…or eidetic as they call it…can retrieve every detail, sometimes months later. Well, before the accident happened, I noticed a man…he was tall, well built, about forty years old or so…and snazzy dressed. Bald-headed and wearing expensive looking glasses. Designer frames. The guy raised his arm up in the direction of the second hill and his hand was in a fist. I thought he was waving at first, but then realized his hand was making a fist. I didn’t think too much of it. A few seconds later, I saw a flash right under the track of the second hill. It was a sunny day, as you all know, and I wrote it off as just being a reflection of the sun. But…in hindsight, it was much more than that. It was almost like sparklers on the fourth of July—flashing, sparking. But, when I shifted my position I couldn’t see it any more. So, I ignored that, too.”
Nate paused and looked around the table. Some mouths were hanging open in shock as they took in his every word.
He continued. “When the train was falling, I noticed that some of the lap bars were in the ‘up’ position, and I couldn’t understand how that could be. Sure, that was the wrong thing to be thinking at a time like that, but I couldn’t help myself.
“The other night I had a dream. A fist in my face. Just a fist. I couldn’t figure it out until my wife did something that triggered a memory. The memory of the man’s fist being aimed toward the track. And the image in my dream brought the details in to me much clearer than my conscious memory recalled. It was a right-handed fist, and it had a ring on the third finger. Not just any ring—my first thought was that it was a graduation ring. But then I thought that the quick image I had of it told me that it could also be an even more distinctive ring than that.
“I went right back to bed after my wife did what she did to trigger it—and I concentrated hard before I fell off to sleep. The image came back clearer to me. I woke up and drew a quick picture. It was a large ring, with the image of five trophies in the center. On the upper rim around the center was the word, “Forty.” On the lower rim was the word, “Niners.” I estimated that this man I saw was in his early forties. So, I googled several years in the nineties and found images of this exact same ring from the year 1994. It was indeed the Super Bowl ring from 1994, when the San Francisco 49ers beat the San Diego Charges by a score of 49-26. And the image of the five trophies in the center of the ring signified that the 49ers were the first team to have ever won five Super Bowls.
“This ma
n, whoever he was, played for the San Francisco 49ers Super Bowl champions of 1994.”
There was a gasp around the table. Then Tom spoke…just one word…but it summarized how everyone felt. “Jesus!”
Nate pointed at Ron Collens. “You’re the electrical and systems guy. What do you think about a guy standing on the Black Mamba’s perimeter, pointing his fist at the second hill—the hill that supposedly split from a faulty weld?”
Ron was silent for a second, and then spoke slowly. “While you were talking about it, my first thought was that he was holding a remote unit. From your angle off to the right, it would look like just a fist, but that’s the way you’d hold a remote.”
“And what would that remote be doing?”
Ron paused again and looked around the table. “Most of you know that I was a Navy Seal. There’s something we used to use all the time for quick burns through metal structures. It was a substance called Thermate—we used the military grade, Thermate-3, which could be simply painted onto a structure, fixed with a magnesium fuse, and set off by remote control. The stuff was so potent and generated its own oxygen that it could actually be used underwater. And it burns very fast, lightning fast.”
Nate was scribbling notes. “Funny, that engineering convention I attended where I made that speech; a representative of AE911Truth spoke before me. He mentioned that residue of Thermate-3 was found at the base of the Twin Towers in New York.”
Ron leaned his elbows on the table and rested his face in his hands. “We have to face the possibility here that this accident was sabotage. Which is a scary thing to think of.”
Nate walked over to the side table and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Ron, could those lap bars also have been deactivated by the same remote control?”
“Yes, absolutely. If the man somehow managed to tap into the radio frequency we use, it would be a simple matter.”