“Everything okay?”
The CEO looked at the hypercar.
“Does it look okay?”
The man studied the vehicle.
“Could be you stopped for the view.”
She looked toward miles of beige desert.
“Spectacular.”
He smiled slightly.
“Want help?”
“I have factory technicians coming.”
“Then probably not.”
He turned back toward his truck.
The CEO watched him walk away.
Something irritated her about how easily he accepted dismissal.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
She hated herself slightly.
“How much do you know about cars?”
He looked toward the hypercar again.
“Enough to know yours is expensive.”
“That is not useful.”
“No.”
He waited.
She said:
“It died while driving.”
“Died how?”
“Instantly.”
“No stumble?”
“No.”
“No vibration?”
“No.”
“Dash?”
“Every warning at once.”
“Starter?”
“Computer cancels after one turn.”
The man walked back.
“Mind?”
She looked at his hands.
Grease beneath the nails.
Small scar across the right thumb.
Not a tourist.
Not random.
“Do not touch anything without asking.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
He approached the engine bay.
He did not immediately put his hands inside.
Instead, he stood slightly sideways and listened.
The CEO frowned.
“The car is off.”
“I know.”
“You’re listening to nothing.”
“Not nothing.”
He leaned closer.
The desert wind moved through dry grass.
A truck passed in the far lane.
For several seconds there was no mechanical sound.
Then he raised one finger.
“Did you hear that?”
“No.”
“Again.”
They waited.
Click.
So faint she almost missed it.
Click.
Five seconds.
Click.
The man’s expression changed.
“What?”
He did not answer.
He walked around to the driver’s side.
“Lock the car.”
“What?”
“Lock it.”
She pressed the key.
The doors locked.
He waited.
Click.
Then he said: