“Unlock.”
She did.
Another click.
“Does your security system have a separate immobilizer?”
“Factory anti-theft.”
“Aftermarket?”
“No.”
“Tracking?”
“Corporate.”
His eyes moved toward her.
“Corporate tracking installed in the vehicle?”
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“My security office.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
He looked back at the engine.
“Do you have anything that allows remote shutdown?”
“No.”
“Certain?”
“Yes.”
“My lawyers would never approve that.”
He crouched beside the rear electrical compartment.
“Your lawyers know every feature security installs?”
She stared at him.
“That is an interesting way to get told to leave.”
He smiled.
“Probably.”
Then he pointed.
“See that fastener?”
The CEO leaned.
A narrow carbon service panel sat behind the left intake duct.
One screw was newer than the others.
The metal head had no dust.
No oxidation.
The man said:
“That panel’s been off recently.”
“Service team inspected the car last week.”
“Could be.”
He touched nothing.
“Permission?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
He took a compact tool roll from his truck.
No computer.
No diagnostic scanner.
Just hand tools.
He removed the panel carefully.
Behind it were factory harnesses wrapped in braided sleeves.
Then something else.
A small black module the size of a cigarette pack.
The man stopped.
The CEO leaned closer.
“What is that?”
He did not answer immediately.
A tiny red light blinked.
Five seconds.
Blink.
Five.
Blink.
A thin wire ran to a hidden antenna beneath the bodywork.
Another pair had been spliced into the ignition-enable circuit.
The man’s jaw tightened.
“What?”
He looked at her.
“This car isn’t broken.”
The CEO stared.
“What does that mean?”
He pointed.
“That isn’t factory equipment.”
She felt the desert heat differently now.
“What is it?”
“Remote relay.”
“For what?”
“Best guess?”
“Yes.”
“Killing ignition.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“That’s impossible.”