Big Dave was already moving.
He pulled a light from the workbench and crouched beside the tank.
“Get me a mirror.”
Milo handed him one.
Big Dave reached beneath the left side.
His arm disappeared almost to the elbow.
For several seconds, he searched.
Nothing.
Rusty felt relief beginning.
Then Big Dave stopped.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
The entire room leaned forward.
His hand came out.
Between two fingers, he held a short length of old black wire.
The insulation had been wrapped to look like part of the factory loom.
At its end was a tiny toggle switch concealed inside a metal bracket behind the tank mount.
Rusty stared.
Milo whispered, “No way.”
Big Dave looked at Leo.
“How did we miss that?”
Leo shrugged.
“Dad said you’re supposed to.”
Jim stepped toward the boy.
Something had changed in his face.
Not suspicion anymore.
Recognition was trying to form around a memory.
“What was your father’s name?”
Leo lowered the broom.
“Arthur Hayes.”
Jim went completely still.
Behind him, one of the older bikers whispered, “Arty?”
Leo nodded.
“Arthur.”
Jim looked at Rusty.
Rusty said quietly, “He was Arty’s boy.”
Jim returned his gaze to Leo.
“Your dad worked here?”
“Sometimes.”
Jim looked again at the motorcycle.
Then at the hidden switch.
He took one slow breath.
“Arty Hayes.”
Leo watched him.
“You knew him?”
Jim almost smiled.
“Knew him?”
He looked around the garage.
“Your father was the only mechanic Dutch would let touch this bike without standing over his shoulder.”
Leo’s eyes widened slightly.
Jim crouched.
“You remember him talking about Dutch?”
“A little.”
“What did he say?”
Leo looked at the black FXR.
“He said Dutch never fixed anything normally.”
Several men laughed.
Jim did too.
For the first time since entering the garage, his shoulders loosened.
“That sounds right.”
Rusty stepped toward the motorcycle.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. A hidden ground explains the battery drain, maybe the no-spark condition. It doesn’t automatically solve the kickback.”
Leo pointed again.
“Wrong timing marks.”
Rusty looked at him.
“We heard you.”
The boy frowned.
“Then why are you still arguing?”
Big Dave burst out laughing.
Even Rusty smiled despite himself.
Jim stood.
“Can he fix it?”
Rusty immediately answered.
“He is eight.”
Jim looked at Leo.
“That wasn’t my question.”
Leo spoke before Rusty could.
“I can’t use the heavy tools.”
Rusty stared at him.
Leo continued.
“But I know where Dad said to look.”
Jim folded his arms.
“If the mechanics do the work?”
Leo looked at the motorcycle.
“I think I can tell them.”
Rusty stepped closer.
“No.”
Jim turned.