“Tell me why.”
“Give me sixty seconds.”
She lowered the windows and climbed out.
Hot desert air hit her immediately.
She walked to the rear.
The hypercar’s rear clamshell lifted electrically when she used the emergency release.
The engine sat beneath carbon braces and polished intake runners like a machine designed for worship.
She switched the phone to speaker.
The technician spoke.
“We’re not receiving live telemetry.”
“Why?”
“Communication handshake is failing.”
“Battery?”
“Main battery reads healthy in the last packet.”
“When?”
“Two minutes before shutdown.”
“Fuel pressure?”
“Normal.”
“Oil?”
“Normal.”
“Temperature?”
“Normal.”
“So?”
“We may have a gateway-controller failure.”
“May?”
“We need the car transported.”
“I need it moving in twenty minutes.”
“That will not happen remotely.”
She closed her eyes.
“How long for transport?”
“We can send a factory team from Las Vegas.”
“How long?”
“Approximately ninety minutes.”
“I have a board meeting in one hundred three.”
“I understand.”
“No.”
“You clearly don’t.”
She ended the call.
Then she called the security chief.
No answer.
That was unusual.
He was the one person in her organization who never failed to answer.
Former federal protection specialist.
Fifty-three.
Quiet.
Painfully organized.
He had managed her security since before she became CEO.
He knew the exact route she was taking today because he had argued against it.
“Take the helicopter.”
“No.”
“Then company car.”
“No.”
“At least let the detail trail you.”
“I want ninety minutes alone.”
“You pay me to prevent decisions like that.”
“I pay you to tell me they’re bad.”
“And?”
“I heard you.”
She had compromised.
Her route would be filed.
Her phone would remain tracked.
A response team would stay within twenty-five minutes.
Now his phone went directly to voicemail.
She frowned.
A vehicle approached behind her.
Old white tow truck.
Its paint was sun-faded.
The driver slowed.
For a moment she considered waving him on.
Then the truck pulled onto the shoulder thirty feet behind her.
The driver stepped down.
He was in his mid-forties, tall, broad through the shoulders without looking gym-built.
His faded plaid shirt was rolled to the elbows.
Jeans.
Brown work boots.
A dark wristwatch.
Brown hair slightly too long.
Stubble several days old.
He removed sunglasses.