Chapter 3 - The Cold Borescope
The hypercar sat under the glaring LED inspection lights, its carbon-fiber flanks gleaming like polished obsidian. Julian stood frozen, the gold key fob resting in his sweaty palm. A heavy silence pressed down on the garage.
""Start it,"" Vance repeated. ""If the engine runs clean, I take my car, and I forget this child ever spoke. If it breaks, Julian, you buy back every share of Sterling Performance by sunrise.""
Julian’s hand shook. He looked at the key. He looked at the boy standing defiant against the pillar. Sweat beaded across Julian's forehead, threatening to ruin his spotless appearance. He couldn't turn the key. Deep down, the boy's conviction had cracked his arrogant shell.
""I... we should pull the valve cover first,"" Julian whispered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Vance scoffed, disgusted. ""So the rat is smarter than the master."" Vance turned to Leo. ""Can you prove it without ripping my car apart?""
""Give me a borescope and a spark plug socket,"" Leo said plainly.
Julian blinked. ""You can't diagnose valve lash through a plug hole.""
""Watch me,"" Leo snapped.
Without waiting for permission, Leo walked to the master tool chest. He moved with instinctive grace, bypassing the digital tablets and reaching straight for the mechanical drawer. He selected a ten-millimeter wrench, an articulated fiber-optic camera, and an old mechanic's stethoscope.
He didn't ask for a stool. Leo hopped onto the tire, leaning his light frame over the carbon-fiber fender with utmost care, never letting a button or zipper touch the paint. Julian watched with open-mouthed terror as the ten-year-old expertly unclipped the coil pack on cylinder seven and backed out the iridium plug in under ninety seconds.
Leo slid the flexible camera tube deep into the cylinder chamber. On the portable monitor rested on the cowl, the interior of the combustion chamber flickered onto the screen.
""Rotate the crank by hand,"" Leo ordered.
Nobody moved. The guards looked at Vance. Vance nodded once at Julian. ""Turn it.""
Julian, humiliated, picked up a breaker bar, slid beneath the front apron, and engaged the crankshaft pulley bolt. He turned it slowly.
On the screen, the intake valves opened and closed. Then came the exhaust stroke. As the valve descended, a tiny, metallic silver stripe showed along the mirror-polished stem. A scratch. A micro-binding scoring mark.
Leo tapped the screen with a grease-blackened fingernail. ""Right there. The guide is pinching the valve. Ten seconds at wide-open throttle, and that valve drops into the piston bowl. Boom.""
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Vance stared at the tiny silver mark on the high-definition monitor. Then he turned to Julian, his expression completely devoid of mercy.
""Pack your things, Julian,"" Vance said coldly. ""We need to talk about ownership.""
