That decided it.
The senior mechanic grabbed a wrench.
“Fine.”
He dropped onto one knee.
Removed the first bolt.
Then the second.
The old farmer watched his hands.
Something bothered him.
The bolts came loose too easily.
Not loose.
Recently moved.
There was a difference.
The senior mechanic removed the final fastener and caught the inspection plate before it fell.
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then a dark piece of metal slipped from somewhere behind the flywheel.
It struck the concrete.
Clang.
Nobody moved.
The old farmer stared at it.
Three inches long.
One end thick.
The other ground into a crude taper.
Not a broken tractor part.
Not a bearing fragment.
Not something created accidentally.
A wedge.
The young mechanic whispered:
“What the hell?”
The senior mechanic reached for it.
The farmer’s boot moved first.
He pinned the piece gently against the floor.
“Don’t.”
The senior mechanic froze.
The farmer crouched again.
This time his knees did not seem to matter.
He picked up the wedge with two fingers.
Fresh grinder marks shone along one edge.
The metal still held small scratches where the flywheel teeth had bitten into it.
One side carried a thin strip of faded green paint.
The old farmer turned it beneath the shop lights.
Every mechanic leaned closer.
The young mechanic looked inside the inspection opening.
“There’s a mark between two flywheel teeth.”
The farmer nodded.
“Because somebody fed this through the plate.”
The senior mechanic stood.
“Could’ve fallen in.”
The farmer looked at him.
“From where?”
“Loose debris.”
“Debris doesn’t sharpen itself.”
Nobody answered.
The old farmer held the wedge higher.
“Somebody cut this.”
He turned it.
“Ground the end.”
Another turn.
“Removed that cover.”
He pointed toward the tractor.
“Wedged the flywheel.”
He looked at all five mechanics.
“And put the cover back.”
The youngest mechanic said:
“So the engine never seized.”
“No.”
The old farmer’s voice was calm now.
Almost too calm.
“Somebody wanted me to think it did.”
The senior mechanic said:
“You don’t know that.”
The farmer looked at him.
“You want to put money on it?”
No answer.
The farmer handed the wedge to the young mechanic.
“Photograph every side.”
The senior mechanic stepped forward.
“Hold on.”
The old farmer turned.
“That came out of my tractor.”
“This is our shop.”
“And that’s my evidence.”
The word changed the atmosphere immediately.
Evidence.
One mechanic stopped smiling.
Another looked toward the security cameras mounted near the ceiling.
The senior mechanic’s face tightened.
“Evidence of what?”
The old farmer looked down at the fresh grind marks.
“That’s what I’m going to find out.”
Then he pointed toward the open inspection plate.
“Pull it.”
“What?”
“The wedge is out.”
The farmer looked toward the young mechanic.
“See if she moves.”