Silas stared at the harness.
"That modification might be from the original builder."
Cal asked, "Who built the bike?"
Silas hesitated.
"A man named Wade Holloway."
Dennis whistled.
Wade Holloway had been something of a legend among custom motorcycle builders in the region.
He had died eleven years earlier.
Silas continued.
"Wade hated people changing his wiring."
Eli nodded.
"That's probably why he hid this."
Silas looked at him.
"How do you know something's hidden?"
"I don't."
Eli held up the wrench.
"But when I moved that bracket, something electrical changed."
Cal stared at the harness.
Then at the cash.
Then back at Eli.
"Cut it."
Silas remained silent for several seconds.
Finally he nodded.
"Carefully."
Eli sliced through the old tape.
Underneath, they found three ordinary wires.
And a fourth wire that should not have been there.
It disappeared into a narrow metal tube running beneath the frame.
Dennis frowned.
"What the hell is that?"
Eli smiled slightly.
"That's what I wanted the wrench for."
The mystery wire did not appear on any wiring diagram.
Cal checked.
Dennis checked.
Then they downloaded the original service manual.
Nothing.
The wire was dark green, unusually thick, and disappeared through a section of frame tubing.
Silas stared at it.
"Wade loved hiding things."
"What kind of things?" Eli asked.
"Switches. Lockouts. Little tricks."
"Why?"
Silas gave him a humorless smile.
"Because Wade trusted thieves even less than he trusted mechanics."
Cal followed the wire toward the rear of the bike.
"It has to come out somewhere."
They removed the seat.
Nothing.
Side covers.
Nothing.
One saddlebag mounting bracket.
Still nothing.
Dennis grumbled, "We're destroying half the bike because the kid found a mystery wire."
Eli looked toward the engine.
"Don't follow the wire."
Dennis rolled his eyes.
"What?"
"Follow what it controls."
"How?"
Eli thought.
Then he asked for a multimeter.
Cal handed him one.
Eli checked the wire with ignition off.
No voltage.
Ignition on.
Eleven-point-eight volts.
Engine cranking.
Voltage dropped.
Then vanished.
Eli repeated the test.
Same result.
Cal's eyebrows rose.
"It's losing supply during crank."
Eli shook his head.
"Or intentionally cutting something."
Dennis said, "If ignition were being cut, it wouldn't start at all."
Eli nodded.
"That's the strange part."
Silas asked, "You got a theory?"
"Not yet."
Dennis smiled.
"Finally."
Eli ignored him.
He stood and walked to the tool chest.
On the top shelf sat a thermal camera Cal sometimes used for electrical diagnostics.
Eli picked it up.
Cal raised an eyebrow.
"Know how to use that?"
"Enough."
Eli switched on the ignition.
He scanned the harness.
Nothing.
Then he had Cal crank the engine.
The motorcycle started.
Five seconds later it died.
Eli scanned again.
A tiny area beneath the rear frame rail glowed warmer than everything around it.
He crouched.
There.
Behind a welded support.
A small metal cylinder.
Cal touched it.
"Resistor?"
Dennis shook his head.
"Too big."
Silas stared.
"I've never seen that."
Cal removed two fasteners.
The cylinder dropped into his hand.
Two wires entered.
One exited.
No label.
No manufacturer.
Homemade.
Eli said, "Can we open it?"
Silas nodded.
Cal unscrewed the cap.
Inside was a mechanical timer.
Old-fashioned.
Spring-loaded.
Custom built.
Dennis looked confused.
"What does it do?"
Eli studied the contacts.
"When the engine starts, vibration or voltage triggers the timer."
Cal followed the internal circuit.
"Then after a few seconds..."
"It opens."
Dennis's face changed.
"Cuts power."
"To what?" Silas asked.
Eli followed the output wire.
Fuel pump.
Everyone became quiet.
Silas whispered, "Son of a..."
The engine started because fuel pressure already existed.
Five seconds later the hidden timer disconnected the pump.
Engine died.
Cal sat back on his heels.
"That explains everything."
Dennis immediately reached for the timer.
"Bypass it."
Eli said, "Wait."
Dennis stopped.
"Why?"
"Because it probably didn't start failing by itself."
The older mechanic frowned.
"It's a forty-cent homemade timer."
"And the motorcycle ran for years."
Eli looked at Silas.
"When did the problem begin?"
Silas's expression darkened.
"After I got the bike back."
"Back from where?"
Nobody answered.
Eli repeated the question.
Silas glanced toward the other bikers.
Then toward Mercy.
Finally he said:
"It was stolen."
The mood inside the garage changed instantly.
"When?" Cal asked.
"Eight months ago."
"And you never mentioned that?"
Silas's voice hardened.
"You asked about the mechanical problem, not my life."
"Where was it found?"
"Storage warehouse outside Lark County."
"Damaged?"
"No."
Eli looked toward the homemade device.
"Maybe it wasn't supposed to be damaged."
Silas stared at him.
"What are you saying?"
Eli held up the timer.
"I'm saying Wade Holloway might have designed the motorcycle to disable itself if somebody tried to steal it."
Nobody laughed now.
Silas eventually told them the whole story.
Mercy disappeared from his locked garage on a rainy night in January.
Security footage showed two masked men pushing the motorcycle into a closed trailer.
Police found no fingerprints.
No plates.
No useful evidence.
Silas assumed he would never see the bike again.
Three months later, investigators raided a warehouse connected to a stolen vehicle operation.
Mercy was inside.
Untouched.
At least, apparently untouched.
"Wouldn't start when they found it," Silas said.
"They thought the battery was dead."
"When did it last run correctly?"
"The night before it was stolen."
Cal looked at the hidden timer.
"Then Wade's anti-theft system probably activated."
Dennis crossed his arms.
"Great. Bypass it and collect the five grand."
Eli still hesitated.
Silas noticed.
"What?"
"Something doesn't make sense."
Dennis groaned.
"Kid, we found the problem."
"We found a problem."
"Same thing."
"No."
Eli placed the timer on the workbench.
"If this was meant to stop a thief, how was the owner supposed to reset it?"
Silas frowned.
"I don't know."
"Did Wade give you instructions?"
"No."
"Key? Hidden button?"
"No."
Cal looked toward the motorcycle.
"There has to be a reset."
They searched.
For more than an hour.
No button.
No switch.
No second timer.
No hidden key cylinder.
Silas became increasingly impatient.
Finally Dennis clipped a jumper across the timer circuit.
"Done."
Eli protested.
"Don't."
Dennis looked at him.
"Why?"
"We don't know what else it controls."
"It's a fuel-pump cut."
"You assume."
Dennis smiled at Silas.
"Want your bike running?"
Silas looked between them.
"Do it."
Eli stepped away.
Dennis activated the ignition.
Fuel pump primed.
Starter engaged.
Mercy roared to life.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Thirty.
The engine continued running.
The garage exploded in applause.
Dennis raised both hands.
Silas smiled for the first time all day.
Cal slapped Dennis on the back.
Someone shouted, "Five grand!"
Dennis pointed toward the cash.
"I'll split it with the kid. Ten percent."
People laughed.
Eli did not.
He was staring at the instrument cluster.
Something had changed.
One warning light was blinking.
Not before startup.
After.
Slow.
Three times.
Pause.
Three times.
Pause.
Eli walked toward the motorcycle.
"Shut it off."
Nobody heard him over the engine.
"Shut it off!"
Cal saw his face.
"Kill it!"
Silas hit the switch.
The engine stopped.
Dennis stared.
"What now?"
Eli pointed toward the warning light.
"That wasn't blinking before."
"It's an old custom dash."
"Exactly."
"Meaning?"
"Wade built it."
Eli turned the ignition back on without starting.
The warning light blinked three times.
Pause.
Three times.
"That's not random."
Cal's excitement faded.
"You think the timer is linked to something else."
Eli nodded.
Silas looked irritated.
"We've got a motorcycle that runs."
"For now."
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Silas stepped closer.
"Five thousand dollars is sitting over there."
Eli looked him directly in the eye.
"I don't care about the five thousand if the motorcycle fails while you're riding seventy miles an hour."