The heavy silence that followed the exit of the "red-page" failures was oppressive. The thirty men and women remaining in the auditorium sat as still as statues, their eyes fixed on the black sheets in front of them. Ethan stood in the center of the aisle, his hands tucked casually into his pockets.
"Jason, hold the 'special' chairs for a moment. I want to clear the air first," Ethan said.
Ethan turned his gaze toward a small group of five people sitting in the far-back corner. They were young, mostly junior managers who had looked terrified since the moment the convoy arrived. Among them was a woman named Maya, who had been working eighteen-hour shifts just to keep the logistics wing from collapsing under the corruption of her superiors.
"Maya. Stand up," Ethan said.
The woman trembled, her face pale as she slowly rose to her feet. "Y-yes, Mr. Blake?" Maya said.
