Chapter 5 - The Tracker
I backed away, instinctively pushing my mother behind me.
Arthur’s men didn't draw weapons, but they didn't need to. They were massive, blocking the only exit.
“I don't have it,” I lied, my voice cracking slightly. “Someone stole my folder at the competition.”
Arthur smiled patiently. He walked over to our cheap laminate dining table, picking up a framed photograph of my father. He studied it for a moment before placing it face down.
“I know about the folder, Leo. Julian secured the blueprints,” Arthur said, pacing slowly across the small room. “But blueprints are just paper. My engineers reviewed your design. It’s brilliant. Truly. You inherited your father’s gift.”
He stopped, turning to face me.
“But the blueprints are missing the power calibration matrix. The machine would overload without it. You wouldn't have submitted a flawed design to the judges. Which means you built a physical prototype that solves the matrix problem. I want it.”
My mother gripped my shoulder tightly. “He doesn't have it, Arthur! Leave us alone. We have nothing to do with your company!”
Arthur ignored her. He looked at me, his cold eyes unblinking.
“You have until tomorrow night, Leo. Bring the prototype to my office at Vance Industries. If you do, I will ensure you and your mother never have to worry about money again. I’ll give you the mentorship you wanted.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“If you don't... well. Accidents happen in old apartment buildings. Faulty wiring. Gas leaks. It would be a tragedy.”
My mother let out a muffled sob.
Arthur turned to leave, but he stopped at the door. He looked back at me.
“Don't trust Elena Hart,” Arthur warned softly. “She told your father she wanted to help him, right before she locked the laboratory doors and started the fire.”
The door shut.
My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. My mother knelt beside me, wrapping her arms around me as she cried.
“We have to run, Leo,” she whispered. “We have to pack a bag and leave the city.”
“No,” I said, pulling away. My mind was racing.
Both of them—Arthur Vance and Elena Hart—were telling me the other was the murderer. Both of them wanted the technology. Both of them were lying.
But I had something they didn't.
I was an inventor.
“Mom, the prototype is in my locker at school,” I said, standing up. “But I didn't just build a filter. I used old parts from Dad’s toolbox. I used a GPS micro-transmitter from one of his old radios to monitor the data output.”
My mother stared at me, confused. “What does that mean?”
“It means I can track it,” I said. “And I can remotely trigger an overload.”
If Arthur got his hands on the machine, he would reverse-engineer the cipher. If Elena got it, she would do the same. I couldn't let either of them have my father’s legacy.
“I have to go back to the school and destroy it,” I said.
“You can’t go back there! They’ll be watching!” my mother pleaded.
She was right. The school would be dangerous. But I had to do it.
I grabbed my laptop from my desk and opened the tracking software I had written. A green dot blinked on the screen, showing the exact location of the prototype.
My stomach dropped.
The green dot wasn't at my middle school.
It was moving. Fast.
“Someone already took it,” I whispered, watching the dot travel up the map of Manhattan.
It wasn't heading toward Vance Industries.
It was heading toward the Upper East Side. Toward the private hospital where Dr. Elena Hart had been admitted yesterday for her pregnancy complications.
“Elena has it,” my mother said, her voice filled with dread. “She sent someone to your school while she distracted us here.”
I slammed the laptop shut.
Elena had used my sympathy. She had used her pregnancy to stall me on the street so her people could steal my folder. And now she had the machine.
“I’m going to the hospital,” I said, grabbing my coat.
“Leo, absolutely not!” my mother grabbed my arm.
“Mom, she killed Dad!” I yelled, the anger finally boiling over. “She stole his life, and now she’s stealing the only thing I have left of him. I am not hiding anymore.”
I pulled my arm away and ran out the door before she could stop me.
I took the subway, my heart pounding in my ears the entire ride. I kept checking the tracker on my phone. The green dot had stopped moving. It was stationary on the 4th floor of St. Jude’s Medical Center.
I snuck past the front reception, blending in with a large family visiting a patient. I found the stairwell and climbed to the 4th floor—the VIP Maternity Ward.
I crept down the silent, carpeted hallway. The tracker led me to Room 412.
The door was slightly ajar.
I peeked through the crack, expecting to see Elena gloating over my machine.
Instead, I saw Elena lying in the hospital bed, her face pale, connected to a fetal monitor.
And standing next to her bed, holding my physical prototype in his hands, was Julian Vance. The fourteen-year-old boy who had stolen my blueprints.
But Julian wasn't threatening her.
May you like
He was crying.
“Please, Dr. Hart,” Julian sobbed, holding the machine out to her. “My dad doesn't know I took it. You have to use it. You have to save my little brother.”
