The federal investigators slammed Mason against the prototype’s two-million-dollar hood, snapping handcuffs onto his wrists. But Mason wasn’t looking at the agents.
His panicked eyes darted to the company’s Chief Engineer, Vance.
Eli saw the silent exchange. The eleven-year-old climbed back into the driver’s seat and punched a hidden sequence into the dashboard. The touchscreen flashed blood-red.
“This is the final file,” Eli announced, his voice echoing in the dead-silent showroom. “My father buried it in the core matrix seconds before his crash.”
A voice crackled through the supercar’s premium speakers. It was David Carter.
*“If this is playing, my brakes have been remotely severed. I have thirty seconds before impact.”*
Henry Carter gasped, gripping the car door as he heard his dead son’s final moments.
The recording continued over the terrifying roar of a speeding vehicle. *“Mason Caldwell brokered the theft. But Mason isn’t smart enough to write the malware. The code overriding my brakes has a developer’s backdoor.”*
Vance’s face drained of color. He slowly backed away from the crowd.
*“You got greedy, Vance,”* the father’s voice rang out. *“You sold my electric drive system, and now you’re staging my death to cover your tracks.”*
Vance turned and sprinted for the glass doors. He didn’t make it. Two dealership security guards tackled him to the spotless white tiles.
Vance spat blood onto the floor, laughing hysterically. “It doesn’t matter! The offshore accounts are in my name! I have eighty million dollars! I’m untouchable!”
Eli smiled—a chilling, absolute expression of victory. He pressed the final button on his key fob.
*“I couldn’t stop my car, Vance,”* the father’s recording concluded. *“But before I crashed, I infected your malware with a zero-day virus. I didn’t just track your money. I burned it.”*
Vance’s phone buzzed violently in his pocket. It tumbled out, the screen illuminating for everyone to see.
*Cayman Trust Balance: $0.00.*
Eli picked up his grease-stained work glove and calmly slid it back onto his hand.
“I told you,” the boy whispered. “You’re having a very bad day.”