by Mike Brogan
Then the steering wheel jerked hard left, pulling his hands with it. He tried to steer back, but couldn’t.
He was racing straight toward a tourist lookout with parked cars and families outside staring down at the ocean.
He crashed into the tourist cars, missing a young family with kids by inches, blasted over some large rock guards - and went airborne.
Nick Sleete III looked down and saw the Pacific Ocean’s rocky, foamy shore several hundred feet below . . . racing up toward him.
Even drunk, he knew it was the last thing he’d ever see.
NINETEEN
In her office, Madison watched Pete Naismith’s face fade to chalk white as he Skyped with engineers at the GV Engineering Campus north of Detroit.
He hung up and faced Madison.
“More incidents?” she asked, using “incidents” to help ease the pain of “accidents.” It didn’t help.
Pete nodded. “Four more surges of early-release XCars.”
Madison felt her heart skip. “Injuries?”
“Three minor . . . and . . .”
She waited.
“. . . one fatality.”
Pete slumped into a chair, closed his eyes, took a breath.
Madison felt his pain. They sat in silence for several moments. How could GV protect their brand image if XCar surging incidents mushroomed into a deadly customer-relations nightmare? How could she protect it? She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure anyone could.
“The engineers suspect outside interference is causing some kind of computer malfunction,” Pete said. “But they can’t identify where in hell the outside interference originates.”
“But you said months of XCar test driving experienced no surges, right?” Madison said.
“Right. Not one surge! We drove the XCars for over fifty-one thousand miles at all our test tracks. In rigorous world driving conditions. Hot and cold. Steep and flat. Pikes Peak and Death Valley. Smooth and rough. City traffic, rural roads, Interstate. Not one damn surge! Not one drivability problem. So why now? It makes no sense!”
“Are these early-release XCars exactly the same as the national XCars you’ll soon be selling in the national launch?”
“Exactly the same.”
Madison shook her head. “What about your other GV models? Your Carmel SUV? 6Pack Pickup? Any reports of them surging?”
“No, thank God,” Naismith said. “Just these early-release XCars . . . the cars our company’s future depends on.” He leaned against the windowsill, stared at Manhattan’s skyline, and took a deep breath.
Madison said, “The timing of the surges puzzles me.”
He nodded. “It couldn’t be worse.”
“True. But why now?” she asked. “Why after fifty thousand problem-free test miles does this surge hit just days before your national XCar launch?”
Pete shrugged. “It makes no damn sense. But whatever the reason, Madison, the media will demand to ask us questions.”
“And the consumers will demand answers,” she said.
“And Hank Harrison will demand a solution!” Pete added.
Which we’re not even close to! Madison thought.
Pete looked at the television monitor. “The media will treat this like the Toyota accelerator disaster, or the GM accelerator problem, or the VW emissions fraud, or the Takata airbag cover-up.”
She agreed. “Corporations tend to hide their bad news. Self preservation. But you’ve hidden nothing. From the beginning, you’ve been upfront about this. You told the two hundred XCar owners to return the cars to the dealers. You’ve told them why.”
Pete nodded.
Madison said, “But we also have to remind people we’re working hard to fix this. Tell them Hank Harrison sent out personal letters to the drivers who haven’t returned their XCars to the dealers. How many have not?”
“As of an hour ago, only seventy-six brought back their XCars back. That means one hundred twenty-four XCars are still being driven on the roads. The owners say their XCars drive perfectly. They don’t want to return them. And they love saving gas money.”
“That’s too many still out there. GV should hold a press conference,” Madison said.
“I agree. Let’s set it up. A straight-talk conference. Hank can tell reporters and consumers we’re working on fixing the problem. Working non-stop, engineers sleeping overnight at the technical center.”
Pete Naismith answered his phone.
Madison watched his eyes grow more serious. “I’ll be there.” He hung up and faced her.
“That was Hank Harrison. I’m heading back to Detroit for a major meeting in five hours. We’ll assess the overall XCar situation and develop a strategy to launch XCar nationally - or to postpone the launch.”
Madison nodded. “In the meantime, we’ll work on a media communication plan for both strategies, plus the press conference language and overall crisis PR strategy.”
“Good. Hank values your PR advice on this. He’d like you to Skype into our meeting.”
“You don’t have to Skype me in. I’ll fly back with you, if that’s okay.”
“Even better.”
Naismith’s phone rang again. He answered, closed his eyes, slumped down in a nearby chair, and hung up.
She knew it was more bad news.
“Three more XCar accidents.”
“Casualties?”
“Two.”
TWENTY
NORMAN, OKLAHOMA
In her rearview mirror, Savannah Smythe checked Zoe, her giggling three-year-old daughter, sitting in back in a child seat, playing with Phoebe, their golden lab.
Savannah loved their shiny new XCar . . . and especially its fresh new-car smell. Their eight-year-old minivan smelled like a nursery and dog kennel.
Her husband, Darryl, had been incredibly lucky to win the GV dealer’s XCar contest. The dealer pulled Darryl’s name from the Lucky XCar Winner fishbowl with over eight hundred other names.
She also loved how the XCar would save enough gas money to take Zoe to Disney World.
In the mirror, she saw Zoe hold the paper daisy she’d made for Darryl. They were picking him up at Will Rogers World Airport in an hour - if the weather held. A big if, since huge black clouds had just swooped in like a tsunami. She prayed the clouds weren’t hiding an Oklahoma tornado.
Rain slammed her windshield. She flipped on the wipers and listened to a weather report. Thunderstorms were forecast. When they hit, Zoe and Phoebe would hide their faces.
She turned onto Interstate 240 that led her to the airport.
Suddenly, the car slowed down for some reason.
Then it raced ahead!
Did I accidentally tap the gas? No!
Then the car slowed down again . . . way down . . . to thirty . . . as cars passed her doing seventy!
What’s happening?
She hit the gas.
Nothing.
In the rearview mirror, cars raced up fast behind her. Her XCar slowed down even more. Cars would hit her from behind in seconds if she didn’t steer off the expressway.
The rain fell harder.
She tried to steer off, but the steering wheel seemed locked.
The XCar suddenly sped ahead like she’d mashed down on the gas pedal – but she hadn’t touched the gas.
What’s driving my car?
The car bolted forward, surging even faster, steering itself.
Zoe screamed. Phoebe barked.
She hit the brakes. Nothing.
The car steered itself off the road onto the shoulder, plowed through some hedges, and raced up the embankment toward a four-foot high stone fence.
She would hit it.
But then her right front fender hit the base of an expressway light pole, spun the car to a sudden stop and whipped her head hard against the window post as the airbag blasted into her face.
She blinked, but was all right.
She turned and saw Zoe crying. Blood trickled from a tiny cut on her ear that the
dog was licking.
But they were alive!
TWENTY ONE
Nester Van Horn checked his watch. Time to see if Kurt Krugere logged onto their joint email site and left a message.
Using a password shared only by him and Krugere, Van Horn entered the Hotmail Drafts Folder and was surprised to read the short message Krugere left in their draft file an hour ago - Call me now! Only Krugere and Van Horn had access to the file which allowed them to communicate with each other without ever sending the communication over the Internet.
Van Horn wondered what was so important that Krugere risked talking by phone, even though they only used untraceable burners?
He pulled out his phone and dialed the only number it ever called.
Krugere picked up.
“What took you so long?”
“Busy.”
“The number of XCar incidents is too low,” Krugere said with concern.
“It’s climbing!”
“Far too slow!”
“But it’s already hurting the XCar’s image,” Van Horn said.
“Not enough! I don’t want to hurt the image. I want to destroy it!”
“Destroying an image takes time.”
“Less time - if we surge more XCars now,” Krugere said. “GV is launching the XCar nationally in just weeks. They’re shipping thousands of XCars to their dealerships for that launch. I want that XCar launch stillborn! Nail its coffin shut now!”
“But -”
“- I just saw new research,” Krugere said. “These few XCar accidents are not hurting sales of other GV models. We need to surge many more of the two hundred early-release XCars.”
“But Hank Harrison again asked the early-release XCar owners to return those XCars to the dealers,” Van Horn said.
“So surge them before the owners return them. Only around half have been returned. Still a lot out on the roads.”
Van Horn paused. “But too many accidents too quickly might trigger a big NHTSA investigation. The Feds might investigate deeper, figure out what we’re doing.”
“The Engineer swears they can’t figure out what we’re doing, right?”
“Right.”
“Why does he think that?” Krugere said.
“Because automotive engineering experts don’t believe a remote-access system through a car’s OBD II port could possibly be developed.”
Krugere paused. “Good! Let the fools believe that. Our Engineer has done it! He’s proven them wrong. And he’s been right on everything else. Don’t worry about it.”
Van Horn would worry about it.
“And move up Phase Two,” Krugere said.
“But we agreed Phase Two starts in seven months.”
“Not anymore.”
“What?” Van Horn asked, getting anxious.
“I changed my mind. Start surging GV’s other models.”
“Which ones?”
“Start with their hot sellers. The Carmel SUV and the 6Pack Pickup.”
“What about GV’s sedans and crossovers?”
“Hit them a few weeks later.”
“This will destroy the total Global Vehicle line up.”
“You catch on fast,” Krugere said.
“The Engineer will need more programming time. He’ll demand more compensation. This was not part of his original agreement.”
“Pay him more. A lot more. Remember - he bragged that he could hit all GV models.”
“He did, but -”
“- tell him to prove it!”
Van Horn had concerns about surging too many, but knew Krugere wouldn’t change his mind.
“Remember our objectives,” Krugere said. “First destroy XCar sales by creating surges. Second, slow down the sales of all electric cars by creating more surges and accidents, third, release terrifying stories about electric car battery explosions and fires. And finally, our major goal - increase sales of our safe, non-surging gasoline-powered vehicles. It’s that simple.”
Van Horn said, “I agree, but one question . . .”
“What?”
“Why didn’t your AsiaCars group invest money in development of electric cars a few years ago, like GV, Ford, GM, and the others?”
Krugere paused. “We invested in manufacturing more luxurious, high-performance gas-powered vehicles. More luxury cars, more muscle cars but with much better gas mileage. And much bigger profit margins for us. It was the right thing. Still is. So these days we’re doing a little catch-up on EVs.”
Nester paused. “I understand. But expanding the program to all GV vehicle lines will result in many more accidents . . . and . . . deaths.”
“Collateral damage,” Krugere said.
“But this is just business!” Van Horn said, hoping Krugere might back off, but knowing he probably wouldn’t.
“Business is war. If you don’t know that - you went to the wrong school.”
Van Horn took a breath. “So when do you want this Phase Two to begin?”
“Soon as possible. Pay Bruner more for faster! There’s more than enough money.”
Van Horn said nothing. Once Krugere had decided, there was no dissuading the man. He’d go ahead no matter what. He’d probably planned all along to escalate the program early.
“I’ll talk to Bruner,” Van Horn said.
“Today!” Krugere demanded, hanging up.
TWENTY TWO
DETROIT
In the Global Vehicles Chairman’s conference room, Hank Harrison, Pete Naismith, Len Schell, the VP of Engineering, and Madison watched the new XCar commercials that Kevin had just FedEXed from Los Angeles.
“Terrific ads, Madison!” Hank Harrison said. “Much more persuasive than I anticipated.”
“XCar does the persuading.”
“But not if the surging grows worse,” Harrison said.
Madison feared the same thing.
“The question is - can we fix the surging before our national launch?” Harrison said.
Harrison turned toward Len Schell, a thin, mustached man with a red polka-dot bowtie and rimless glasses that perched halfway down his nose. He was the Executive Director of Driveline Engineering.
“Len, what’s your best estimate?” Harrison asked.
Len Schell rubbed his wrinkled forehead, closed his eyes, then stared out the window. “We’re ah . . . somewhat hopeful we can identify the cause . . . and fix it. Many of those two hundred early-release XCars have been returned to the dealerships. We’re going over them inch by inch. But many are still out there on the roads. We’re also checking out the XCars being prepped for the national launch. So far no cause has been found.”
Harrison nodded. “Have you rechecked our XCar test-driving records over fifty thousands miles?”
“Yes. Twice. Went back over everything. Not one documented surge incident. Not one! Test drivers swear it!”
Harrison rubbed his eyes. “So . . . what the hell’s causing the surging at this time?”
Len Schell shook his head. “Hank, our engineers are flat-out stumped! It’s a mystery.”
Madison felt Schell’s frustration.
Harrison shook his head. “Can we solve the mystery? Should we go ahead with the national XCar launch now? Or should we delay it? What do you suggest?”
Harrison stared hard at his VP of Driveline Engineering for an answer.
Len Schell paused and pulled his earlobe. “Based on these few incidents so far, and based on our fifty thousand miles of XCar testing with no surges, and based on our full-court press on fixing the problem, I would suggest we tentatively plan to go ahead with the launch. But - if more incidents occur in the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours - I recommend we delay the launch and re-launch only when the problem is fixed.”
Harrison nodded. “I agree. But if we delay the launch, our dealers will be angry as hell. And I can’t blame them.”
Pete and Len nodded.
Madison felt Harrison’s pressure to launch on time.
“We made pr
omises to our dealers,” Harrison said. “Our dealers made promises to deliver XCars to specific customers on certain dates. Our dealers also made promises to book their television advertising and run print ads on certain dates. Right Madison?”
“Right. And we negotiated excellent early booking discounts for the ads. But backing out of those discount dates now, might incur cost penalties. If so, we’ll renegotiate with the media.”
Harrison nodded and sipped some water. “But even more important than costs penalties and unhappy dealers – are our customers! We promised them a safe XCar!”
Madison watched Hank Harrison pace alongside the conference table, obviously weighing his decision. He reminded her of General Eisenhower deciding whether to launch the D-Day Normandy invasion despite a very iffy weather forecast.
Harrison took a deep breath. “Okay. Tentatively, let’s launch XCar nationally in two weeks. But if more incidents occur, we delay until the problem’s fixed.”
Heads nodded agreement.
Hank Harrison paused. “So continue shipping a limited quantity of XCars to the dealers for the national launch. Tell them to start selling only on our launch date. Tell them to start running the television commercials - but be ready to stop their commercials and stop all sales if more XCar problems develop, and we have to postpone.”
Madison was happy to launch the campaign, but she couldn’t shake the concern that some newer XCars might also experience surging. They came off the same assembly line at the same time – and they had the identical systems and engineering.
If the nationally-launched XCars started surging and careening off roads like the early-release XCars, and if people were injured, there might be little her agency or any PR firm could do to save the XCar brand image. GV’s two-billion-dollar investment may cost them two billion more in lawsuits.
Global Vehicles hoped the XCar would be their resurging Phoenix.
But it might well be their swan song.
TWENTY THREE
Robert K. Bruner brushed his black hair straight back as he sat in the den of his sprawling, five-thousand-square-foot Tudor home in Rochester Hills, Michigan, minutes from his office at AutoSystemics Worldwide Headquarters.
