Chapter 7 - The Master Key
Leo ducked under Grint's outstretched arm with the instinct of someone who had spent his life dodging heavy machinery. He slid across the polished floor, grabbed the heavy socket wrench he had dropped earlier, and brought it down hard on the valve stem of a nearby nitrogen tank used for pneumatic tire changes.
Pssssshhhhhh!
Compressed gas screamed from the valve, blasting a blinding cloud of freezing white vapor straight into Grint’s face. The biker shrieked, clutching his eyes as frost instantly coated his beard and skin.
""Come on!"" Vance roared from the transport bay.
The hydraulic ramp of an armored enclosed trailer was already lowering. The hypercar was halfway inside, pushed by the remaining bodyguard. Leo sprinted through the fog of nitrogen, dodging a flying wrench thrown by one of the bikers. He leaped onto the steel ramp just as Vance hit the emergency close switch.
The heavy hydraulic ramp rose with a mechanical whine. Outside, the bikers hammered on the reinforced steel doors with their fists and weapons, screaming curses into the night. Then, the thick rubber seals locked into place, plunging the interior of the trailer into sudden, humming silence.
Inside, the only illumination came from the amber LED strips along the trailer's ceiling. Vance stood breathing heavily, his bespoke suit ruined, dust and glass clinging to his wool lapels. He looked down at Leo, who was sitting on the ribbed floor, knees pulled to his chest, clutching the steel wrench like a lifeline.
""You have remarkable survival instincts for someone who belongs in fifth grade,"" Vance said, adjusting his breathing.
""In my neighborhood, if you're slow, you don't eat,"" Leo replied, wiping blood from a shallow scratch on his forearm. ""Those guys... they won't stop. Grint works for a man named Silas. Silas runs every illegal chop shop from here to the docks.""
Vance walked over to a small leather bench built into the wall of the trailer and sat down. He tapped his phone screen, sending a three-word text: Authorize full sweep.
""Silas won't be an issue for much longer,"" Vance said quietly. ""Nobody touches an asset of Vance Holdings.""
""I'm not an asset,"" Leo said, his eyes narrowing defensively. ""I'm a mechanic.""
Vance studied the boy for a long moment. A hint of genuine respect softened his cold features. ""Fair enough. But a mechanic needs a shop. Julian’s facility is going to be closed for an extensive forensic audit. The police will crawl through it for days. Where do you sleep tonight, Leo?""
Leo looked away. He thought of his mother, working overtime in the steam-filled commercial laundry room, coughing from the bleach fumes, trying to pay off a ghost’s debt.
""Home,"" Leo said. ""My mom doesn't know where I go at night. If she finds out I was mixed up with Julian Sterling, she’ll have a panic attack.""
Vance nodded slowly. ""We'll drop you off two blocks away. But tomorrow morning, a car will pick you up. There is another garage. My private compound upstate. Sixty classic vehicles. Twelve prototypes. All of them have issues modern computers can't diagnose.""
Leo's heart fluttered, but he kept his expression guarded. ""And my mom?""
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""Her shifts at the laundry ended ten minutes ago,"" Vance said, showing his phone screen. ""A trust has already bought out the facility. She has a retirement pension starting tomorrow.""
Leo stared at the billionaire, stunned. Before he could process the sheer scale of the gesture, the trailer suddenly lurched violently to the left. The screech of tearing metal tore through the quiet cabin.
