client to their physical and mental limitations. And as the ‘international’ portion of our name implies, we offer packages in sixteen countries across four continents through several satellite branches of EXIT Inc. If there’s something you want to do in the wild outdoors anywhere in the world, we’ll make sure you have a safe, exciting adventure.”
He swept his hand to his right, indicating the six men and women in traditional green EXIT tour T-shirts sitting at the table beside the podium. “The real experts of EXIT are right here and can answer—”
“Mr. Cardenas,” the same reporter called out again.
Something about the barely contained excitement on Kaysen Landry’s face put Cyprian on alert. What was she up to? “Yes?”
“You say that your guides ensure each client’s safety. But there was an accident on one of your tours in Colorado just two months ago that claimed the lives of Mr. and Mrs. John Hightower. Their surviving daughter, Sabrina Hightower, is currently suing both you personally and your corporation for negligence. How can the residents of Asheville feel secure scheduling tours with your company when some clients have actually died on previous tours?”
The room grew silent and every eye focused on Cyprian. Even the greeters at the door and the security guards roaming the room had stopped to see how he would respond.
He noted Landry’s smug look. She’d sandbagged him, making him think she was harmless, clueless, when she was actually quite clever. Her earlier questions had done exactly what she’d intended—made him careless, backed him into a corner, so he looked like a fool when she threw that zinger at him.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that was a tragic loss, the details of which are in dispute and can’t be discussed because of the ongoing litigation. However, just as someone wouldn’t give up flying on airplanes because of one crash, I think we can agree that one regretful accident out of thousands of successful tours is an impressive record. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment. Please treat yourselves to the dinner buffet we’ve set up in the next room, which includes an open bar. Thank you.”
The near stampede to the other room drowned out the further questions Kaysen Landry was trying to shout at him as he left the podium. The open bar had been his salvation, getting him out of a difficult situation. He’d have to remember to thank his daughter, Melissa, when he called her in Colorado tonight. She’d specifically suggested that he hold the press conference closer to the supper hour so they could offer adult beverages. With the free alcohol and food flowing, the reporters would leave happy and hopefully feeling good about the company. Melissa’s suggestion had been just the thing to divert everyone’s attention from the unpleasantness of Landry’s questions about the Hightower accident.
As he neared the door marked “private” at the back of the room, it opened, held by Bishop, his assistant. Cyprian stepped inside. Bishop immediately shut and locked the door, blocking out the noise from the lobby. The barely perceptible nod of his assistant’s head told Cyprian that he needed to discuss enforcer business.
Cyprian greeted various staff members while he and Bishop headed down the long hall that ran the length of the building. All of these people worked to support the tour side of EXIT and thought he was here to establish this new location to expand into another market. While that was certainly true, he had another, far more important reason for being here—setting up redundancies and backups for the company’s critical enforcer network.
A mainframe mirroring the one in Boulder was now fully functional and operating in the tunnels beneath this office building, ensuring that if something happened to the Boulder location, EXIT’s business would continue uninterrupted. The tunnels had been suggested by the contractor as a way of
He swept his hand to his right, indicating the six men and women in traditional green EXIT tour T-shirts sitting at the table beside the podium. “The real experts of EXIT are right here and can answer—”
“Mr. Cardenas,” the same reporter called out again.
Something about the barely contained excitement on Kaysen Landry’s face put Cyprian on alert. What was she up to? “Yes?”
“You say that your guides ensure each client’s safety. But there was an accident on one of your tours in Colorado just two months ago that claimed the lives of Mr. and Mrs. John Hightower. Their surviving daughter, Sabrina Hightower, is currently suing both you personally and your corporation for negligence. How can the residents of Asheville feel secure scheduling tours with your company when some clients have actually died on previous tours?”
The room grew silent and every eye focused on Cyprian. Even the greeters at the door and the security guards roaming the room had stopped to see how he would respond.
He noted Landry’s smug look. She’d sandbagged him, making him think she was harmless, clueless, when she was actually quite clever. Her earlier questions had done exactly what she’d intended—made him careless, backed him into a corner, so he looked like a fool when she threw that zinger at him.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, that was a tragic loss, the details of which are in dispute and can’t be discussed because of the ongoing litigation. However, just as someone wouldn’t give up flying on airplanes because of one crash, I think we can agree that one regretful accident out of thousands of successful tours is an impressive record. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment. Please treat yourselves to the dinner buffet we’ve set up in the next room, which includes an open bar. Thank you.”
The near stampede to the other room drowned out the further questions Kaysen Landry was trying to shout at him as he left the podium. The open bar had been his salvation, getting him out of a difficult situation. He’d have to remember to thank his daughter, Melissa, when he called her in Colorado tonight. She’d specifically suggested that he hold the press conference closer to the supper hour so they could offer adult beverages. With the free alcohol and food flowing, the reporters would leave happy and hopefully feeling good about the company. Melissa’s suggestion had been just the thing to divert everyone’s attention from the unpleasantness of Landry’s questions about the Hightower accident.
As he neared the door marked “private” at the back of the room, it opened, held by Bishop, his assistant. Cyprian stepped inside. Bishop immediately shut and locked the door, blocking out the noise from the lobby. The barely perceptible nod of his assistant’s head told Cyprian that he needed to discuss enforcer business.
Cyprian greeted various staff members while he and Bishop headed down the long hall that ran the length of the building. All of these people worked to support the tour side of EXIT and thought he was here to establish this new location to expand into another market. While that was certainly true, he had another, far more important reason for being here—setting up redundancies and backups for the company’s critical enforcer network.
A mainframe mirroring the one in Boulder was now fully functional and operating in the tunnels beneath this office building, ensuring that if something happened to the Boulder location, EXIT’s business would continue uninterrupted. The tunnels had been suggested by the contractor as a way of
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