I know it has a design flaw that was identified in prototype stage but ignored due to production pressures. I know that internal memo XT447 documents the exact issue I’m describing. Anony’s face showed a flash of recognition at the memo number. That was proprietary information never made public. How could you possibly? He began. Mr. Wright, we should secure the area, interrupted the security guard. Your vehicle contains valuable intellectual property. Thomas stood his ground. You have approximately 45 minutes before that engine suffers irreparable damage.
The service center can’t help you. They don’t have the parts or expertise for this specific issue. And towing this vehicle in its current condition will only accelerate the damage. Anthony hesitated, visibly torn between dismissing Thomas and the growing realization that this stranger somehow possessed insider knowledge. Sir, the second security guard addressed Thomas firmly. I’m going to have to ask you to move along. Wait, Anthony raised a hand. You mentioned a memo XT447. How do you know about that?
Because I wrote it, Thomas replied simply. 5 years ago, when I was a consulting engineer at Aerotch. My name is Thomas Johnson. For a brief moment, something like recognition flickered across Anony’s face. The name meant something to him, but he couldn’t place it. The first security guard moved closer to Thomas. Sir, final warning. Step away from Mr. Wright and his vehicle. Anthony checked his watch. The manufacturer’s roadside assistance was at least 2 hours away. His investor meeting couldn’t be rescheduled.
The smoke from the engine was growing thicker. What exactly would you need to fix it? Anthony asked, ignoring the surprised looks from the security guards. BBasic tools. Most should be in your emergency kit. 20 minutes of uninterrupted work, Thomas replied. Anthony seemed to weigh his limited options. The growing crowd, the irreplaceable vehicle, the crucial meeting, the stranger who somehow knew things he shouldn’t. Mr. Wright, we strongly advise against the security guard began. Check his ID first, Anthony interrupted.
Full background. The second guard took Thomas aside while the first spoke quietly into his radio. Thomas cooperated calmly, producing his shelter ID card, the only identification he possessed. When the guard returned, his expression was grim. No current address, no employment records for the past 3 years, some kind of incident at his last job. The shelter confirms he stays there occasionally. Anony’s face hardened. He’d taken a risk even considering this option. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” he said to Thomas, not sounding sorry at all.
