The SUV pulled away.
The CEO stared.
“They’re leaving.”
The single father already had his phone out.
He photographed the rear plate.
“Got it.”
The SUV accelerated.
Within seconds it merged back onto the highway.
The state patrol cruiser continued toward them.
The CEO looked at the single father.
“You were right.”
He shrugged once.
“That doesn’t feel good.”
“No.”
The highway patrol officer stopped behind the tow truck.
Within ten minutes, the story became complicated enough that the officer called a supervisor.
The CEO deliberately left out no embarrassing details.
She identified herself.
Explained the car failure.
Showed the hidden module.
Showed the video of her security officer.
Provided the SUV plate.
The patrol supervisor looked at the $5 million hypercar.
Then the tow truck.
Then the woman dressed for a luxury resort.
Then the mechanic.
His expression suggested he wished he had chosen another road.
“You’re saying your own security team may have remotely disabled your car?”
The CEO answered:
“I’m saying there is a device installed in my car that appears capable of remote shutdown.”
“One member of my security team contradicted himself about knowing what it is and then left when law enforcement approached.”
The supervisor looked at the single father.
“And you found it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a mechanic?”
“Now.”
“What does that mean?”
The father sighed.
“I used to work vehicle electronics.”
“For who?”
“A company called Meridian Fleet Systems.”
The CEO’s eyes moved toward him.
That name meant something.
Meridian had been acquired six years earlier.
By her company.
She said:
“You worked for Meridian?”
He looked at her.
“Long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Eleven years.”
“What did you do?”
“Embedded controls.”
“Immobilization.”
“Fleet recovery.”
“Telematics.”
The CEO stared.
“You worked on remote-stop systems.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you not tell me that?”
“You asked how much I knew about cars.”
“I said enough.”
“That was technically true.”
The patrol supervisor looked between them.
“I’m going to pretend this conversation is normal.”
He contacted dispatch.
The SUV plate came back registered to a security-services subsidiary wholly owned by the CEO’s company.
Her stomach sank.
The security officer was real.
The vehicle was real.
Nothing about the encounter had been an impersonation.
That was worse.
The CEO called her general counsel.
Not the board counsel.
Her personal outside attorney.
The attorney answered.
“Where are you?”
“Highway forty-seven miles outside Las Vegas.”
“Are you okay?”