Liam looked at the machine.
“I think some risks don’t show up correctly on spreadsheets because spreadsheets can’t hear metal fatigue.”
Clinton laughed softly.
“That is not exactly data-driven.”
“No,” Liam said. “It’s experience-driven.”
Audrey wrote that down.
Experience-driven.
They reached Sector 7 after lunch.
The casting sector was one of the oldest parts of the plant. Heat shimmered in the air. The floor smelled of oil, hot metal, and industrial coolant. A coolant line near the service panel was leaking in a thin, steady thread.
Clinton frowned.
“That should have been reported.”
“It was,” Liam said.
Otis gave him a look.
Liam continued.
“Three weeks ago.”
Audrey turned.
“Why isn’t it repaired?”
“Vendor backlog,” Clinton said quickly.
Liam crouched, examined the fitting, and held out one hand.
“Otis, compression clamp.”
Otis grabbed one from a maintenance cart.
Clinton stiffened.
“Let’s not improvise during an executive inspection.”
Liam did not look at him.
“It’s not improvising. It’s fixing.”
In nineteen minutes, he sealed the leak, pressure-tested the line, and documented the repair.
Audrey watched every step.
There was no waste in him.
No performance.
No attempt to impress.
He simply saw what was wrong and corrected it.
“How much would the vendor repair have cost?” she asked.
Otis checked the work order.
“Twenty-four hundred dollars. Three-day delay.”
Audrey looked at Liam.
“And your method?”
“Twenty-dollar clamp, proper torque, pressure test, written verification.”
Clinton’s smile tightened.
“With respect, CEO Sterling, field fixes can create compliance exposure.”
“Then Mr. Carter will write the verification,” Audrey said. “And you will explain why a three-week-old leak remained open.”
Clinton stopped smiling.
That afternoon, Liam’s phone rang.
He stepped aside.
Audrey was close enough to hear his voice change.
“Hey, Mrs. Alvarez. Everything okay?”
A pause.
Then his tired face transformed.
“First place?”
Another pause.
“She did? No, no, I’m not crying. There’s coolant fumes in here.”
Audrey looked down at her notes, pretending not to listen.
Liam laughed softly.
“Tell Bridget I’m so proud of her I might explode. No, not actually explode. Bad word choice near the plant.”
He hung up, smiling in a way Audrey had not seen in any boardroom.
“Your daughter?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“Science fair,” he said. “She built a wind turbine from scrap parts. First place.”
“You must be proud.”
“I’m always proud. Today she just gave me a new excuse.”
Audrey wanted to say something ordinary.
Congratulations.