"Twenty-four minutes."
Garrett picked up his phone.
"I'm calling the Nashville shop."
"No."
Garrett frowned.
"Why not?"
"Because if they installed it, they already know what it does."
Silence.
Garrett stared at Owen.
"You're suggesting they sabotaged my bike?"
"I'm saying we don't know yet."
Owen removed the box carefully.
Inside, he found a small circuit board.
Then something else.
A second wire.
It was attached to the motorcycle's main ignition circuit.
Owen's eyes narrowed.
"This is the problem."
Garrett crouched.
"That little wire?"
"Yes."
"How can something that small stop a motorcycle this big?"
Owen looked at him.
"Because electricity doesn't care how big the motorcycle is."
Garrett smiled.
"Fair enough."
Owen traced the wire.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
Garrett noticed.
"What?"
Owen didn't answer.
He pulled out his phone.
He took a picture.
Then another.
"What did you find?"
Owen looked at Garrett.
"The system wasn't designed to stop the motorcycle."
Garrett's smile disappeared.
"Then what was it designed to do?"
Owen looked at the circuit board.
"Track it."
A Motorcycle With a Secret
The word spread quickly.
Someone had installed an unknown device on Garrett Steel's motorcycle.
Within minutes, the entire garage was gathered around the workbench.
Garrett hated crowds.
He hated mysteries even more.
"Track it how?"
Owen pointed to the circuit board.
"There's a transmitter here."
One of the mechanics frowned.
"GPS?"
"Something like it."
Garrett stared at the device.
"Why would anyone track my motorcycle?"
Owen shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Can you find out?"
"I can try."
Garrett crossed his arms.
"Do it."
Owen connected the device to a diagnostic reader.
A small light blinked.
Then the screen displayed a series of numbers.
Owen's expression became serious.
"What?"
Garrett stepped closer.
"The device has been transmitting."
"To where?"
Owen entered the data.
The screen showed a location.
Garrett stared.
It was an address in Nashville.
The same shop that had installed the security system.
Garrett's jaw tightened.
"That can't be coincidence."
"No."
Owen disconnected the device.
The engine suddenly started.
Everyone froze.
The motorcycle ran smoothly.
No stalling.
No hesitation.
Nothing.
Garrett stared at the engine.
Then at Owen.
The boy wiped his hands.
"Fixed."
Silence.
Then someone shouted.
"No way!"
Another man laughed.
"That kid actually did it!"
The garage erupted.
Garrett didn't move.
He stared at his motorcycle as if it had betrayed him.
Then he looked at Owen.
"How?"
Owen shrugged.
"I disconnected the false kill circuit."
Garrett reached for the money.
He counted five thousand dollars.
Then he handed it to Owen.
Owen took it.
For the first time that evening, his hands trembled.
Garrett noticed.
"Everything okay?"
Owen nodded.
"Yes."
But Garrett didn't believe him.
Before he could ask again, the garage door opened.
A black SUV pulled into the parking lot.
Three men stepped out.
They weren't bikers.
They wore dark jackets.
No logos.
No club colors.
One of them entered the garage.
"Garrett Steel?"
Garrett turned.
"Who's asking?"
The man looked past him.
His eyes landed on Owen.
Then on the motorcycle.
His expression changed.
"That's the bike."
Garrett stepped forward.
"What about it?"
The man ignored him.
He looked at Owen.
"You removed the device."
Owen's face went pale.
Garrett noticed immediately.
"Who are you?"
The man finally looked at him.
"You should give us the motorcycle."
Garrett laughed.
"That's not happening."
The man reached into his jacket.
Every biker in the garage moved at once.
Boots shifted.
Hands tightened.
Garrett raised one hand.
"Nobody."
The room froze.
The stranger stopped.
Garrett looked directly into his eyes.
"You came into my garage."
He pointed toward the door.
"You threatened my people."
Then he smiled.
"You have about ten seconds to explain why I shouldn't throw you back outside."
The stranger's face remained expressionless.
"We're not here to fight."
"Then talk."
The man looked at Owen again.
"The boy doesn't know what he has."
Owen stepped forward.
"What are you talking about?"
The man replied quietly.
"Your father."
Owen froze.
Daniel Carter's Notebook
Owen couldn't breathe.
"My father?"
The man nodded.
"Daniel Carter."
Garrett looked at Owen.
"You know these guys?"
Owen shook his head.
"No."
The stranger reached into his pocket.
He pulled out an old photograph.
He placed it on the workbench.
Owen stared.
It was his father.
Standing beside a motorcycle.
But Daniel wasn't alone.
There were three other men in the picture.
One of them was the stranger.
Owen picked up the photograph.
"Where did you get this?"
"Your father worked for us."
Garrett stepped forward.
"What kind of work?"
The stranger didn't answer.
Owen looked at him.
"Tell me."
"Your father was an electrical engineer."
Owen shook his head.
"No."
"He was."
"My father was a mechanic."
"He was both."
The words hit Owen harder than he expected.
His father had always been secretive about certain parts of his past.
Owen remembered late nights.
Locked drawers.
Phone calls he wasn't allowed to hear.
His father's habit of destroying old documents.
Garrett watched Owen carefully.
"What did he build?"
The stranger looked at the motorcycle.
"Tracking systems."
Owen stared.
"The device."
"Yes."
"Why was it on Garrett's bike?"
The man hesitated.
"Because someone wanted to find something."