Silas's expression shifted.
The boy wasn't challenging him.
He was warning him.
Cal looked toward the clock.
Nearly nine.
"We keep diagnosing."
Dennis protested.
"We solved it."
Cal shook his head.
"No."
He pointed toward the blinking light.
"We solved enough to make it start."
Then he looked at Eli.
"Find out what three flashes means."
There was only one person still alive who might understand Wade Holloway's habits.
His daughter.
Her name was Lena Holloway.
Silas had not spoken to her in years.
He knew she lived somewhere outside Millhaven, but that was all.
Cal found her through an old business registration.
She owned a small electrical repair company twenty-eight miles away.
At 9:40 p.m., Silas called.
She answered on the fourth ring.
When Silas said his name, silence followed.
Then Lena said:
"I wondered when that motorcycle would cause trouble again."
Silas put the call on speaker.
"You know about the anti-theft timer?"
"Yes."
The entire garage looked at Eli.
Silas asked, "How do we reset it?"
"You don't."
"What?"
"Not the way you're thinking."
Lena explained.
Her father had been paranoid about motorcycle theft after losing two custom builds in the 1990s.
So, for several trusted customers, he designed layered immobilizer systems.
Not one cutoff.
Several.
"They were never exactly the same."
Cal asked, "Mercy has a fuel-pump timer."
"Probably stage one."
Everyone became silent.
"What's stage two?" Eli asked.
Lena paused.
"Who's that?"
"Eli."
"Mechanic?"
The senior men glanced toward him.
Eli answered, "Apprentice."
Lena laughed softly.
"Good. Apprentices still listen."
Dennis looked offended.
She continued.
"Three flashes means the security sequence is incomplete."
Silas rubbed his forehead.
"What happens if I ride it?"
"Depends what Dad designed."
"Meaning?"
"Could cut ignition. Could disable charging. Could close a fuel solenoid. He loved mechanical solutions."
Dennis muttered, "Your father was insane."
Lena replied instantly.
"Yes."
Cal hid a smile.
Silas asked the important question.
"Can you help?"
A long pause.
"No."
Silas's face hardened.
"Lena."
"I'm done with that part of my father's life."
"Why?"
"Because I spent twenty years watching strangers treat him like some genius while my mother begged him to come home."
Nobody spoke.
Silas's anger disappeared.
He knew that pain.
Maybe not hers.
But something like it.
"I won't ask twice," he said quietly.
"Good."
The call ended.
Cal sighed.
"Well."
Eli looked at the timer again.
"What did she mean, security sequence?"
Dennis said, "Probably another hidden switch."
Eli shook his head.
"Sequence means order."
Cal considered it.
"Several actions."
"Maybe."
They started testing.
Ignition on.
Brake lever.
Clutch.
Turn signal.
Horn.
Nothing.
Silas remembered Wade once joking that the motorcycle "knew its owner."
Eli asked questions.
"Did you have a routine when starting it?"
Silas laughed.
"You mean sit down and press the button?"
"Think."
Silas stared at Mercy.
For seventeen years, he had mounted the motorcycle without thinking.
Left hand on handlebar.
Right leg over seat.
Kickstand up.
Clutch in.
Ignition.
He demonstrated.
The warning light still blinked.
Eli watched.
Again.
Nothing.
Then Eli noticed Silas touched something before turning the key.
A small metal medallion hanging beneath the handlebar.
"What's that?"
Silas looked at it.
"Saint Christopher."
"Original?"
"Wade gave it to me with the bike."
Eli examined the medallion.
It was magnetic.
He slowly moved it near the instrument cluster.
Click.
Tiny.
Almost inaudible.
The warning light stopped blinking.
Everyone froze.
Cal whispered, "No way."
Eli moved the medallion away.
Three flashes.
Moved it back.
Steady light.
Inside the dash was a hidden reed switch.
Silas stared in disbelief.
"For seventeen years..."
"You reset it every time without knowing," Eli said.
"How?"
"You probably touched or moved the medallion naturally when you got on."
Silas stared at the little piece of metal.
Then laughed.
A deep, stunned laugh.
"Wade, you crazy bastard."
They removed Dennis's jumper.
Reset the system correctly.
Started the bike.
It ran perfectly.
No blinking light.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Cal looked at the cash.
"Eli."
The young man shook his head.
"We haven't road-tested it."
Silas smiled.
"Starting to think you're trying not to win my money."
Eli looked at Mercy.
"No."
He thought about hospital bills waiting on his mother's kitchen table.
"I really want the money."
Then he picked up his helmet.
"That's why I want to earn it."
Cal refused to let Eli conduct the first road test.
"You're not insured for customer bikes."
Eli knew he was right.
Dennis rode Mercy instead.
Silas followed him on another motorcycle.
Cal drove the shop truck behind them.
Eli sat in the passenger seat with a laptop connected to a wireless diagnostic reader.
For the first ten miles, everything looked perfect.
Fuel pressure stable.
Charging voltage strong.
Temperature normal.
At fifteen miles, Dennis accelerated onto the highway.
Mercy pulled hard.
Silas grinned.
Eli watched the live data.
Nothing unusual.
Twenty miles.
Twenty-five.
Then Eli saw voltage dip.
Fourteen-point-one.
Thirteen-point-seven.
Thirteen-point-two.
Then recover.
He leaned forward.
"Cal."
"I see it."
Another dip.
"What do you think?"
"Regulator?"
"Maybe."
At mile thirty-two, headlight brightness changed.
Dennis signaled.
They pulled into a gas station.
The engine remained running.
Eli checked charging directly at the battery.
Normal.
Cal frowned.
"Could've been load."
Eli stared at the wiring near the steering head.
He remembered the earlier hidden modifications.
"This bike isn't wired like a normal bike."
"No kidding."
They continued.
At mile thirty-eight, Mercy died.
Instantly.
No stumble.
No warning.
Just silence.
Dennis coasted onto the shoulder.
Silas pulled beside him.
Cal stopped the truck.
Everyone climbed out.
Dennis threw his gloves onto the seat.
"I knew it."
Eli connected the meter.
Battery strong.
Fuel pressure strong.
No spark.
Cal checked the ignition circuit.
Power entered the module.
Nothing exited.
Dennis said, "Module failed."
"New module," Cal answered.
"New parts fail."
Eli touched the unit.
Warm.
Not dangerously hot.
Silas stared toward the horizon.
The Monday ride suddenly felt impossible again.
"Can we tow it?"
Cal nodded.
Eli said, "Wait."
He noticed the security light.
One flash.
Pause.
One flash.
Not three.
One.
He showed Cal.
"Different code."
Cal looked defeated.
"We need Lena."
Silas shook his head.
"She said no."
Eli took out his phone.
"Maybe she said no to you."
Silas almost smiled.
"Kid."
"What?"
"That woman has hated me since before you were born."
"Then let me ask."
Silas studied him.
"Why would she talk to you?"
Eli looked at the dead motorcycle.
"Because I'm not asking her to save your bike."
"What are you asking?"
"To help me understand her father's work."
Twenty minutes later Eli stood fifty yards from the group, phone pressed to his ear.
Lena answered reluctantly.
He explained the new failure.
One flash.
Long pause.
Her tone changed immediately.
"Shut the ignition off."
"It is."
"Disconnect the battery."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Eli shouted toward Cal.
They disconnected it.
Lena remained silent for several seconds.
Then said:
"One flash means tamper state."
"Why would it think it's being tampered with?"
"Because you bypassed stage one earlier."
"But we reset it."
"Doesn't matter."
"So what happens now?"
Another silence.
"When Dad designed those systems, a bypass could arm the final lock."
"What's the final lock?"
"I don't know."
Eli looked toward Mercy.
"You don't know?"
"Not on Silas's bike."
"Can you guess?"
Lena's voice lowered.
"No."
Then:
"But I know where the plans are."
Lena arrived at Mercer Street Motor Works shortly after midnight.
She was forty-seven, wore work boots and a faded denim jacket, and carried a heavy wooden box.
Silas stood when she entered.
Neither greeted the other.
Lena placed the box on the workbench.
"Dad's notebooks."