Secrets Under the Tank

Leo stood on the milk crate with both hands on the edge of the bench, his broom leaning against his shoulder like it was too tall to own him. Big Dave had the tank propped up on a rubber mat, and the old Harley looked naked without it.

Dave snorted. “Kid, if you’re gonna tell me this thing’s haunted, do it quick.”

Leo shook his head. “Not haunted. Hidden.”

Tess looked over from the meter. Her brows pinched together. “Hidden where?”

“Under the tank.” He pointed with one finger. “By the front mount.”

Rusty rubbed his chin. “We already chased the wiring from stem to stern.”

“No,” Leo said. “Not that wire. The other one.”

Big Dave folded his arms. “There is no ‘other one.’”

Leo looked at him like he was being thick on purpose. “There is. Dad said the Reno setup used a fake tab.”

That got a pause.

Jim Mercer stood near the open bay door with his hands behind his back. He’d taken off his sunglasses and tucked them into his vest. “Reno setup?”

Leo nodded once. “Dad fixed Dutch’s bike after the race. He said the timing was off by twelve degrees.”

Dave barked a short laugh. “Twelve degrees. On what, a Sunday crossword?”

Leo slid one hand under his shirt and pulled out a brass key on a cord. He held it up, not like a trick, just like he was showing what he had. “Locker 42 has the blue notebook. It says it.”

Rusty stared at the key, then at Leo’s face. “You’ve got a notebook locked downstairs?”

“Yeah.”

Tess set her meter down. “What else is in it?”

“Drawings. And the numbers.”

Jim’s jaw moved once. “Arthur Hayes left that here?”

Leo nodded again.

Big Dave uncrossed his arms, then crossed them harder. “Kid’s got a memory for a bedtime story and everybody wants to call it a miracle.”

“Go look,” Leo said. “The switch is by the frame bracket. It looks like the brake line tab.”

Tess was already crouching. She wiped her hands on her jeans and reached beneath the tank mount. The shop got quiet enough that the drip from the leaky sink in the back sounded loud.

She frowned. “That’s not a tab.”

“Pull the sleeve back,” Leo said.

Dave leaned in. “You tellin’ her how to do her job now?”

Tess ignored him. She slid a thin pick under a blackened rubber sleeve and peeled it away. A small recessed toggle sat tucked inside the gusset, dirty enough to look like part of the frame.

She went still. Then she let out a sharp breath.

“Well, hell.”

Rusty straightened. “What?”

Tess pointed with two fingers. “There it is. Hidden ground. Reed switch, maybe. Whoever set this up didn’t want casual eyes on it.”

Dave stared. “You’re kidding.”

Leo watched her hand, not Dave’s face. “Dad said if you tested it wrong, it would lie.”

Jim stepped closer to the bike. “And that kills the spark?”

Tess nodded. “If it’s open, yes. You’d chase wires all week and never see it unless you knew where to look.”

Dave rubbed the back of his neck. “That is a dirty little trick.”

Leo looked up at him. “Not trick. Backup.”

Tess gave him a sideways look. “You know the difference between those words?”

“Yeah.”

Jim crouched in front of Leo, one knee on the floor, vest creaking. That alone made the room feel smaller. “Your father tell you anything else about this motor?”

Leo tightened his grip on the broom handle. “It’s not all one engine.”

Jim waited.

Leo pointed at the cases. “Some parts are old. Some parts aren’t. Dad said they made it fit anyway.”

Dave let out a low whistle. “A hybrid build. Great. So the thing’s a puzzle made by lunatics.”

“Twelve degrees,” Leo said again. “Look at the notebook.”

Jim stood. “You heard him.”

Dave looked ready to argue, but Jim cut him off with a flat hand. “We’re not fighting the boy. Pull the tank tomorrow morning. Find the notebook. If Hayes left a map, we use it.”

Rusty exhaled through his nose, half relief and half panic. “Tomorrow morning’s not much time.”

Jim’s face didn’t move much. “Then don’t waste tonight.”

Leo stepped off the milk crate and hugged the broom to his chest. Nobody laughed this time.

Outside, a truck door slammed in the lot. Then another. Then the ring of a boot heel on concrete.

Five voices came with the footsteps, and the air in the garage changed before anybody even looked up.