William rushed back to his condo, grinning. The board meeting had gone better than he'd expected. The announcement for interim president had taken him by surprise. He hadn't had much time to prepare. He and his team had barely skimmed the multiple reports. Fortunately, no one was in the mood to do anything after his announcements. But Marge's support—that had been the real surprise. Her vote tipped the scales, and once she backed him, the rest fell in line. No one wanted to be left on the losing side when it was clear who held the momentum.
He parked quickly and headed upstairs. The Zephyr team was already inside, having crashed at his place overnight. Liz had claimed the bedroom, while the others spread themselves out on the couches and floor. It wasn't glamorous, but it worked.
"So?" Liz called the moment he walked in. "How did it go?"
"Better than I could have hoped," he admitted, dropping his jacket on the arm of a chair. "Between Grandfather's shares, Uncle Richard's votes, and Father's proxy, we had a strong base. But Marge's support sealed it. We cleared seventy-five percent. Absolute majority."
Liz let out a triumphant whoop. Lucas gave him a broad grin and a thumbs-up. Bill merely nodded, looking quietly satisfied.
"And the dividend suspension? The recall announcement?" Liz asked.
"They'll do exactly what we need them to," William said. "The share price will start sliding by the end of the week. That's your opportunity."
"Leave that to me," Liz said.
"You don't need to worry about Grandfather or Uncle Richard. I'll handle their arrangements," William added.
She looked at him then shrugged. "Sure. Less work for me."
He said nothing but grinned.
"So, what's next?" Bill asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.
William took a moment before answering. "Tomorrow, I'll be at the New Haven plant. The press release will have everyone on edge. I'll hold a town hall to speak directly to the employees, then meet the management team, and do a full tour of the facility."
Liz arched an eyebrow. "You think they'll cooperate?"
"No," William said bluntly. "But they'll listen. And that's enough for now."
He looked around at them, choosing his next words carefully. "I also want you to come to Harrow."
"You mean...leave Zephyr?" Liz frowned.
"Not permanently. Just for a while. Zephyr can run itself for a few months. Magnus, Su, and the rest of the senior staff will keep things moving. But here—I need you. I don't trust anyone else to keep this from sliding right back into chaos."
Lucas blew out a breath. "Double duty, then."
"Exactly. Help me stabilize Harrow, then go back."
There was a moment of silence as they considered it.
"Fine by me," Bill finally said. "I'm bored anyway."
Liz sighed. "Alright. But if this becomes permanent, I'm billing you extra."
"Deal," William said, smiling faintly.
"So the three of us will go to Detroit then. Make the arrangements with the team. You deal with the management."
"Sure. So let's meet in a week?"
"Yup!"
The next morning, William caught an early ride to New Haven. The New Haven Complex was built on the outskirts of the city, barely an hour's ride away from their family headquarters in Hartford. The city was an industrial powerhouse, although it had seen better days. Many of the old factories had closed down over the years, leaving behind empty buildings and unemployed workers. But Harrow Corporation's plant was still one of the largest employers in the area.
The Harrow plant covered over 2,500 acres, making it one of the largest manufacturing facilities in the country. From the air, it looked like a small city, with hundreds of buildings, roads, and parking lots stretching as far as the eye could see.
The complex had its own testing track where new vehicles were put through their paces. There was an all-terrain vehicle testing facility with hills, mud pits, and obstacle courses. A deep-water port connected directly to the sea, allowing raw materials and finished products to be transported by ship. A small airport sat at the edge of the property, with a runway long enough to handle cargo planes and corporate jets.
But the plant was more than just a manufacturing facility. It was a complete community. There was a residential complex with apartment buildings and houses for employees and their families. A school served the children of workers. There was a cinema, shops, markets, and even a small forest preserve where employees could walk during their lunch breaks.
This massive complex was the legacy of William's great-grandfather, who had built the plant during World War II. When America needed military resources quickly, the elder Harrow had seized the opportunity to expand the facility from its original 1,000 acres to nearly 1,500 acres, purchasing the land at bargain prices from the government.
During the war, the waterfront harbour had manufactured and serviced military ships. The airport had been part of the complex where P-51 Mustang fighter planes were built and tested. A huge portion of the complex had once housed the largest arms factory in the world, producing everything from rifles to artillery shells.
But those glory days were long past. The end of the war had brought massive changes to the facility. The arms factory had been shut down and converted to civilian use. Many of the buildings had been abandoned as the company struggled to adapt to the closure of arms production. Now, a good portion of the complex was deserted and left to rot, a testament to the company's declining fortunes.
As he drove through the gates of the complex, William noticed the tall brick walls and iron fencing that surrounded the entire complex, a remnant from its military days. Multiple levels of security checkpoints slowed their progress as guards checked identification and searched vehicles. The security measures seemed excessive for a civilian facility, but the complex still housed the military vehicle production area.
Mrs. Patterson, his father's longtime secretary, was waiting for him at the main administration building.
"Mr. William, welcome to Harrow Industrial Park," she said, greeting him with a professional smile. She was standing beside a small vehicle that looked like a cross between a golf cart and a small car.
"Mrs. Patterson, nice to meet you in person," William replied, shaking her hand. "So what's the agenda today?"
"As you requested, we will begin with a town hall meeting where you'll address the employees. Due to space constraint, we will be holding it in the Main Stadium. After that, we have lunch scheduled, and then a plant tour. We have reserved the presidential guest room for you so you can rest there tonight. Tomorrow, we have an MRM—Management Review Meeting—with all the heads of departments. I expect it to take around two days."
"Good, let's go," William said, climbing into the small vehicle.
The vehicle was driven by a uniformed driver who navigated the complex's network of roads with practiced ease. As they drove toward the centre of the facility, Mrs. Patterson took the opportunity to explain the current situation.
"All employees are there," she said, her voice tense with concern. "Today's news has sent tremors across the company. Many are expecting layoffs. I have already received word that the union is planning to resist any major changes."
William nodded grimly. The union had been a powerful force at Harrow for decades, often clashing with management over wages, benefits, and working conditions. They would undoubtedly see his takeover as a threat to their members' job security.
The stadium was located near the centre of the complex, a large, simple building that could easily hold over 35,000 people. It was the larger of two stadiums on the premises, originally built to host company events and presentations. Today, it would serve as the venue for William's first address to the workforce.
As they approached the building, William could see crowds of workers streaming in through the entrances. They were dressed in everything from blue work uniforms to business suits, representing every level of the company hierarchy. Many looked worried and uncertain, talking in small groups and glancing nervously at the building.
Mrs. Patterson directed him to the backstage area, where he could wait until it was time for his speech. The backstage was a maze of corridors and dressing rooms, with concrete walls and fluorescent lighting. William could hear the murmur of thousands of voices from the main auditorium, punctuated by the occasional shout or laugh.
"They're all here," Mrs. Patterson said, checking her watch. "Fifteen thousand employees, from factory workers to senior management. Word of the recall and production shutdown has spread quickly. People are scared about their jobs."
William nodded and straightened his tie. He had prepared for this moment, but he knew that no amount of preparation could fully ready him for addressing such a large, potentially hostile audience. These people's livelihoods depended on Harrow Corporation, and many of them had worked for the company their entire careers. And he was going to basically tell them it didn't matter.
At exactly 11:00 AM, William walked out onto the stage. The stadium was packed to capacity, with every seat filled and people standing in the aisles. The noise was deafening—a mixture of conversation, shuffling feet, and the occasional boo or whistle. Bright lights illuminated the stage, making it difficult for William to see the faces in the crowd.
He approached the podium and adjusted the microphone. The sound system amplified his movements, causing feedback that made everyone wince. Gradually, the crowd began to quiet down as people realized he was about to speak.
"Good morning!" William began, his voice carrying clearly through the stadium's sound system. "I am William Harrow, and I will be serving as president of this company until my father recovers from his illness."
The crowd was silent now, hanging on his every word. William could feel the tension in the air, the mixture of curiosity, fear, and anger that permeated the audience.
"You have already seen the news, and it is true," he continued. "We will be stopping production of all cars until this issue is resolved. We will be recalling all cars currently on the market. And we will be repairing them free of cost to our customers."
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some people looked relieved that the company was taking responsibility, while others appeared worried about what this meant for their jobs.
"I don't care how everything was done before," William said, his voice growing stronger and more forceful. "But with me at the helm, things will change. Over the next few months, many changes will happen, both big and small. It is up to you to adapt and overcome. We will give you the tools to do so."
He paused, letting his words sink in. The stadium was completely silent now, as if everyone was holding their breath.
"But if you fail to adapt, you will be fired!" William declared, his voice echoing through the building. "Yes, fired. This is a jungle, and its survival of the fittest. I don't care who your father is or who your uncle is. I don't care how long you have worked here. I don't care whether you're illiterate or have a PhD. You will be held to a certain standard. If you fail to meet that standard, you will be kicked out."
The crowd erupted in angry shouts and boos. People jumped to their feet, waving their fists and yelling protests. Union representatives in the front rows were particularly vocal, shouting about workers' rights and job security.
William waited for the noise to die down before continuing. "But I am not cruel," he said, his voice cutting through the remaining chatter. "You will be evaluated three times. Everyone will be evaluated, from a manager to the janitor. Everything and everybody will be assessed."
He held up three fingers. "Once now, then six months later, and finally exactly twelve months later. You have twelve months to learn, to train, and to adapt. If twelve months are not enough, you should pack your bags and leave on your own, because you are not meant for Harrow Corporation."
The crowd was stirring restlessly, but William pressed on. "Also keep in mind that our relationship is transactional. You will be paid for what you give. The better you perform, the better you will be compensated. It's a merit-based transaction. Results are what matter."
He gestured broadly, encompassing the entire stadium. "We will introduce new ways to work, new policies, new methods. And using these improvements, we will build better cars than this company has ever produced."
William went on to outline his vision for the company's future. He talked about modernizing the production lines, implementing new quality control measures, and investing in research and development. He spoke about the need to compete with foreign automakers who were gaining market share every year.
"The automotive industry is changing rapidly," he said. "Better emission norms, safety equipment—these are not just trends, they are the future. We can either embrace these changes and lead the industry, or we can cling to the past and watch our company die."
He talked about the need for better training programs, improved safety measures, and more efficient manufacturing processes. He promised that workers who embraced change and showed initiative would be rewarded with better pay and advancement opportunities.
"I know this is scary," William said, his voice becoming more personal and less commanding. "Change is always frightening. But the alternative is worse. If we don't change, we will become irrelevant. Other companies will take our customers, our market share, and eventually our jobs."
He pointed to the empty sections of the complex visible through the stadium's windows. "Look around you. Half of this facility is already abandoned. Buildings that once employed thousands of people are now empty and decaying. That's what happens when companies refuse to adapt to changing times."
The crowd was quieter now, more thoughtful. Some people were nodding in agreement, while others still looked sceptical and angry.
"I'm not asking you to trust me," William continued. "I'm asking you to trust in your own ability to rise to the challenge. I believe that the people in this room have the talent and dedication to make Harrow Corporation great again. But it will require effort, sacrifice, and a willingness to do things differently."
He talked about the company's proud history, from its founding by his great-grandfather to its crucial role in World War II. He reminded them of the innovations that had made Harrow a household name and the generations of families who had worked at the plant.
"We have a legacy to protect," he said. "But legacy without progress is just nostalgia. We need to honour our past while building our future."
The speech continued for another twenty minutes, with William addressing specific concerns and broadly outlining his plans without going into much detail.
As he neared the end of his remarks, the crowd's mood had shifted. The initial anger and fear had given way to a mixture of uncertainty and cautious optimism. People were still worried about their jobs, but they were also beginning to understand that change was necessary for the company's survival.
"I will be meeting with your managers over the next few days to discuss how to proceed," William concluded. "Any questions you have can be directed to them. Thank you for your attention and thank you for your dedication to this company."
The applause was polite but restrained. William had not won over the crowd completely, but he had at least gotten their attention. As he walked off the stage, he could hear the buzz of conversation as people discussed what they had just heard.
Mrs. Patterson was waiting for him backstage, along with several security guards. "That was quite a speech," she said diplomatically. "The union representatives want to meet with you as soon as possible."
"Schedule it for tomorrow morning," William replied. "Before the management review meeting."
As they left the stadium, William could see groups of workers gathered in the parking lots and along the walkways, engaged in intense discussions. Some looked angry and defiant, while others appeared thoughtful and concerned. The real test would come in the following days and weeks, as people had time to process what he had said and decide how to respond.
The town hall meeting was just the beginning. William knew that winning over the workforce would require more than just words. He would need to follow through on his promises, demonstrate results, and prove that his vision for the company was not just ambitious rhetoric but a realistic path forward.
As they drove away from the stadium, William felt a mixture of relief and apprehension. The speech had gone better than he had feared, but he knew that the real challenges lay ahead.
After a quick lunch in the executive dining room, Mrs. Patterson led William to a larger company vehicle designed for touring the massive complex. The vehicle was a modified Harrow station wagon with bench seating and large windows for better visibility.
"We'll start with the main assembly line," Mrs. Patterson explained as they drove through the network of roads connecting the various buildings. "Then we'll move through the different departments. The full tour usually takes about four hours, but we can adjust the schedule as needed."
Their first stop was Building 7, which housed the main vehicle assembly line. The building was enormous, with high ceilings and rows of fluorescent lights stretching as far as the eye could see. The assembly line itself sat motionless, a stark contrast to its usual activity. Car frames remained frozen at various stages of construction, abandoned mid-process when the shutdown order came through.
The conveyor belts were silent, and the usual army of workers in blue uniforms were nowhere to be seen. They had all gathered at the stadium earlier that morning to hear William's announcement about the brake safety issue and the complete production shutdown. The workstations that would normally be buzzing with activity installing V8 engines, fitting doors, and adding interior components like bench seats and dashboard assemblies now stood empty and quiet.
"This line can produce about 150 vehicles per day when running at full capacity," Mrs. Patterson explained. "We have three shifts, so theoretically we could produce 450 cars daily. But we've been running at reduced capacity for the past six months due to quality issues and parts shortages. And this was before production stopped."
"What's causing the bottlenecks?" he asked.
"Multiple factors," Mrs. Patterson replied. "Some of our equipment is from the war years and breaks down frequently. We also have coordination problems between different departments. Parts arrive late or not at all, which stops the entire line."
William surveyed the silent assembly line, noting the partially completed vehicles that would remain untouched for the entire week. "This shutdown gives us the perfect opportunity," he said. "I want you to call in the maintenance teams immediately. Every piece of equipment needs to be inspected, serviced, and upgraded where possible."
They moved to the next section, where the paint shop was located. The paint shop was a separate building connected to the main assembly line by a covered walkway. Inside, the air was surprisingly clear without the usual smell of paint and chemicals, as the powerful ventilation systems continued to run to clear the atmosphere.
The paint booths stood empty, their spray guns hanging idle. The controlled environment with filtered air and precise temperature controls remained active, but no workers in white coveralls moved through the space. The popular colours of 1962—bright reds, blues, whites, and the increasingly popular two-tone combinations—remained in their storage tanks, waiting for production to resume.
"The paint shop was actually one of our more efficient areas," Mrs. Patterson noted. "We upgraded some of the equipment two years ago to handle the new metallic finishes. Now we can use this shutdown to do even more improvements."
William nodded approvingly. "Schedule a complete overhaul of all paint equipment. Check every spray gun, replace filters, and calibrate the colour mixing systems. When we restart, I want this department running better than ever."
Next, they visited the engine manufacturing area, housed in Building 12. The massive machines that usually shaped metal blocks into engine components were now silent. The building felt cavernous without the constant sound of cutting, grinding, and drilling. The smell of cutting oil and metal shavings still lingered in the air, but the absence of noise was almost unsettling.
"We manufacture about sixty percent of our engine components here," Mrs. Patterson explained. "The rest come from suppliers in Detroit and Cleveland. We can produce about 180 engines per day when all equipment is running."
William noticed that several machines were shut down, with maintenance crews working on them. The machines were clearly from the 1940s and 1950s, built like tanks but showing their age. Patterson spotted him looking at the machines. "These machines broke down yesterday. Maintenance was already scheduled for today."
"How often do these machines break down?" he asked.
"More often than we'd like," Mrs. Patterson admitted. "Some of this equipment was installed during the war conversion. We've been deferring maintenance to cut costs, which has led to more frequent breakdowns."
They moved on to the Quality Control Department, which was housed in a separate building near the end of the assembly line. This department was responsible for testing completed vehicles before they were shipped to dealers.
The quality control area had several different testing stations. Some vehicles were put through electrical system tests using large diagnostic equipment with numerous gauges and meters. Others were tested for proper engine operation on dynamometers. There was also a water test station where cars were subjected to simulated rain to check for leaks. But right now, every booth and station was empty.
"Every vehicle was supposed to go through a comprehensive quality check before leaving the facility," Mrs. Patterson explained. "But we were under pressure to increase throughput. This shutdown gives us time to upgrade our testing procedures."
William nodded. "Very soon we will be releasing new protocols and methods. When we restart, no vehicle leaves this facility without passing every single test. Quality cannot be compromised."
After the quality control department, they visited the test tracks. The facility had two main tracks: a high-speed oval for performance testing and a smaller track with various road conditions for general testing.
The high-speed oval was impressive, with banked turns and straightaways that allowed cars to be tested at speeds up to 100 miles per hour. The track had been built in the early 1950s and was one of the most advanced automotive testing facilities in the country at that time. However, William noticed that the track surface was showing wear, and the safety barriers were basic compared to what he'd seen at Indianapolis.
"We used to test every new model extensively on these tracks," Mrs. Patterson said. "But budget cuts have reduced our testing program. Now we do more limited testing and rely more on our engineers' calculations."
They also visited the all-terrain testing area, which was located in a separate section of the complex. This area had hills, mud pits, rocky surfaces, and other obstacles designed to test four-wheel-drive vehicles and trucks.
The all-terrain area was impressive in scope, covering about 50 acres with various challenging surfaces. This was where Harrow tested their military trucks and recently released pickup trucks.
"This is where we test our trucks," Mrs. Patterson explained. "We can simulate almost any driving condition here. It's been very useful for developing our new Scout model."
Next, they visited the Research and Development Center, which was housed in a modern building constructed in 1956. Unlike the manufacturing areas, the R&D centre was still active, with engineers and technicians working on solving the brake issue that had caused the shutdown.
The R&D centre had several different laboratories, including an engine development lab, a materials testing lab, and a computer centre with an IBM mainframe computer that took up an entire room. Every engineer and technician were now focused on the brake problem.
"Under Mr. Richard's guidance the R&D center has expanded enormously. A huge portion of the budget was being directed here."
William filed this in his mind. He would need to check what was being researched here later.
"We have about 300 engineers and technicians working here," Mrs. Patterson continued. "A good portion of them have been reassigned to brake system analysis and redesign. This is our top priority."
The computer centre was running calculations around the clock, with the large IBM machine helping with engineering calculations and brake system modelling. "This IBM system installed two years ago is finally getting the workout it was designed for," Mrs. Patterson noted.
After the R&D centre, they visited some of the non-manufacturing areas of the complex. The maintenance department was housed in several buildings throughout the facility. These buildings were filled with spare parts, tools, and equipment needed to keep the manufacturing lines running.
William was surprised by the chaotic organization of the maintenance areas. Parts were stored in wooden crates and bins, tools were scattered around, and there seemed to be little systematic organization.
"We have about 150 maintenance technicians working across all shifts," Mrs. Patterson explained. "But they spend a lot of time just trying to find the right parts and tools. We've been talking about implementing a better inventory system, but it hasn't been a priority."
"I want every tool catalogued, every part inventoried, and every piece of equipment scheduled for maintenance," he instructed. "This shutdown is our chance to modernize our entire maintenance operation."
They also visited the office spaces, which were scattered throughout the complex. The offices housed everyone from engineering staff to accounting personnel to human resources. The office buildings were generally older, with many dating back to the 1940s.
Many of the offices had steel desks and filing cabinets, manual typewriters, and rotary phones. The lighting was provided by fluorescent fixtures, and the floors were covered with linoleum tiles. The offices were quieter than usual, with many administrative staff given the week off as part of the "No Production Day" declaration. However, essential personnel were still working on planning for the production restart.
Next, they visited the residential areas of the complex. The company had built housing for employees and their families, including both apartment buildings and single-family homes. The apartment buildings were four-story brick structures built in the 1940s, while the houses were small, modest homes with tiny front yards.
The residential area felt like a small town, with tree-lined streets and sidewalks. Children were playing in the yards and on the streets, and women were hanging laundry on clotheslines. The company store was located in the center of the residential area, selling groceries and household items to employees and their families.
"About 3,000 families live in company housing," Mrs. Patterson said. "It's been a real benefit for attracting workers, especially during the war years when housing was scarce."
They also visited the school, which served the children of employees. The school was a two-story brick building that housed grades kindergarten through twelve. It had been built in 1943 and was well-maintained, with modern classrooms and equipment.
"We're very proud of our school," Mrs. Patterson said. "Many of our students go on to college, and quite a few come back to work for the company. It's been a great way to develop our future workforce."
The library was located next to the school, a small but well-stocked facility that served both the school and the community. It had books, magazines, and newspapers, as well as a small reference section.
They visited the cinema, which showed first-run movies on weekends and older films during the week. The cinema was a single-screen theatre with about 300 seats, decorated in the art deco style of the 1940s.
"The cinema is very popular with employees and their families," Mrs. Patterson noted. "We show the latest Hollywood movies, and it's a great way for people to relax after work."
The complex also had a small forest preserve, about 100 acres of woods and walking trails. The forest provided a peaceful retreat for employees and was used for company picnics and outdoor activities.
"Your great-grandfather insisted on preserving this forest when the complex was built," Mrs. Patterson explained. "He believed that workers needed access to nature to stay healthy and productive."
As they completed the tour, William was struck by the sheer scope of the complex. It truly was a city within a city, with everything needed to support a large workforce and their families. However, he could also see the signs of decline everywhere—outdated equipment, deferred maintenance, and empty buildings that spoke to the company's financial troubles.
"What's your impression, Mr. William?" Mrs. Patterson asked as they returned to the administration building.
William considered his response carefully. "It's impressive, but it's also clear that we have a lot of work to do. The infrastructure is there, but we need to modernize our equipment and processes if we're going to compete with Detroit."
The sun was setting over the industrial complex, casting long shadows across the buildings and parking lots. In the distance, William could see the lights beginning to come on in the residential areas, where thousands of families were probably discussing the day's events over dinner.