His desk phone rang. It was Beatatrice. Mr. Webb, Miss Kinsley requires you in the main conference room immediately. Abalardo grabbed his jacket and took the elevator up.
When he walked into the boardroom, the air was thick with the scent of fear and expensive cologne. A dozen executives were arguing over a massive table, throwing out terms like force majour and acceptable loss margins. Chia sat at the head of the table, her face an unreadable mask of calm. When Abalardo walked in, the arguing died down. "Abalardo," Chia said.
"Give me the ground reality. " "Edso. " "It's a blood bath," Abalardo said bluntly, walking to the head of the table. He didn't bother with the provided tablet. "I 95 is a parking lot. The New Jersey hub is on backup generators, but they only have enough diesel for 12 hours. If we don't get the perishable medical supplies out of there by tomorrow morning, we're looking at $40 million in ruined inventory.
Not to mention the hospitals waiting on it. A senior vice president scoffed. Then we write it off. Insurance will cover the act of God. We shut down operations.
Send everyone home and wait for the plows. Abalardo turned to look at the man. Send everyone home. The transit lines are frozen. The roads are impassable.
If you lock the warehouse doors right now, you are putting 2,000 people on the street in sub-zero temperatures. We aren't a hotel, Mr. Web, the VP snapped. No, we're a logistics company, Avalardo shot back. Which means we know how to move things when nobody else can.
Chia, he looked directly at the CEO. I need authorization to override the regional budgets. To do what? Chia asked, her eyes sharp. I have 50 heavyduty fleet trucks with snow chains sitting idle in sector 4 because of a liability freeze instituted last year.
I want to deploy them not to move retail boxes but to move the medical supplies from the Jersey hub to the local hospitals. Furthermore, I want to keep sector 4 open. We bring in CS, we bring in food, and we pay triple overtime to anyone willing to stay and coordinate the logistics grid. The boardroom erupted. Triple overtime.
You're voiding the insurance policy. This is financial suicide. Chia slammed her hand onto the mahogany table. The sharp crack echoed like a gunshot. The room instantly silenced.
She didn't look at the executives. She looked at Abalardo. She looked at the man who had let a stranger sleep on his couch because it was the right thing to do. She saw the absolute certainty in his eyes. Do it, Chia said.