Chapter 5 — Six Missing Minutes

Mara heard the sound while she was carrying table linens across the courtyard.

Nico’s black motorcycle was idling by the front steps. He stood beside it, fastening his jacket. A guard waited with the gate open.

The sound was small. It appeared for an instant beneath the steady engine, then disappeared.

Mara stopped so abruptly that the top linen slid from her arms.

Nico looked over. “I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Turn it off.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Please. Turn off the engine.”

Something in her voice made him reach for the key. The engine died.

Mara put the linens on a bench and crossed the courtyard. “When was it brought out?”

“Ten minutes ago,” the guard said.

“And where was it overnight?”

“In the garage.”

She crouched on the left side. The cover the mechanic had secured was still firmly in place. She checked it once, then moved to the rear of the bike.

Nico knelt a short distance from her. “What did you hear?”

“A different sound. I need a minute.”

She inspected the visible fasteners. Most carried a fine layer of dust from the previous day’s ride. One small section did not. She leaned closer and found a bright mark near the edge.

“Has anyone serviced this since Wednesday?”

“Not that I know of,” Nico said.

Mara looked up at the guard. He shook his head.

She stood. “Don’t ride it. Bring the mechanic here.”

The guard looked to Nico. Nico was already calling.

Mara wished she had a better explanation than a sound and a mark. She had heard both before in ordinary repairs. Either could mean very little. Together, after the inspection she had read, they were enough to make her stop him.

The mechanic arrived forty minutes later. Mara showed him where to look and stepped back while he examined the bike. Nico watched from near the garage, his phone in his hand.

When the mechanic called them over, his face had lost its easy expression.

“Someone worked on this,” he said.

“Since you inspected it?” Nico asked.

“Yes.”

The mechanic described what he had found without touching the altered area again. The change would not prevent the bike from starting. He could not say precisely when it would fail on the road, but he would not let anyone ride it.

The guard by the gate swore under his breath.

Nico’s face went still. “Document it before you repair anything.”

“I will.”

“And nobody enters this garage without being logged.”

A second guard ran toward the security office. Nico made three calls. Mara remained beside the motorcycle, feeling cold despite the sun.

She remembered taking that bike for a ride the previous weekend. It had felt sound beneath her. The alteration could have happened last night, or after the mechanic returned it, or—

Nico ended his call. “Go inside, Mara.”

“No.”

“Whoever did this may learn you stopped me.”

“Then I need to know what you find.”

“You will.”

“That isn’t the same as helping.”

He looked past her toward the open courtyard. “We can argue about this away from the bike.”

Mara followed him to the covered entrance. His men were moving through the grounds now. Mrs. Russo stood at the door, waiting to learn what had happened.

Nico kept his voice low. “I’m assigning protection to you.”

“Ask me where I need to go first.”

“This is urgent.”

“I understand. I’m standing here because I understand.”

For the first time since she had met him, his composure slipped. “You stopped me from riding a bike someone tried to make fail.”

“I know.”

“Then let me handle the threat.”

“You can handle the people. I can help you understand the motorcycle.”

Nico drew a breath. Mrs. Russo opened the door and quietly told Mara that the staff could cover her work for the afternoon. Mara thanked her.

“Two guards,” Nico said.

“One, unless I leave the estate.”

“Two.”

“Have them stay near enough to reach me, not close enough to watch me fold towels.”

He almost objected. Then he gave a sharp nod.

It was a compromise neither of them liked. Mara accepted it because she wanted the investigation to move.

In the security office, the recordings from the previous night were already on the screens. A technician checked the garage views while Nico stood behind him. Mara watched from the doorway with one guard beside her.

At 1:17 a.m., one camera went black.

The second angle showed the garage wall and a narrow strip of floor. It missed the black motorcycle entirely.

At 1:23, the first picture returned.

“Six minutes,” the technician said. “There’s no fault in the rest of the system.”

“Who can switch it off?” Nico asked.

“Security staff. Senior access holders. Anyone with the right credentials.”

“Make a list.”

Adrian Vale entered just as the technician began one. He had a tablet under his arm and spoke as though he had been briefed already.

“I’ve ordered a review of every entry to the garage. We’ll interview the night shift.”

Mara recognized the calm, competent tone from the days she had heard him direct guards through routine checks. Nothing about it sounded out of place.

Adrian looked at her. “I’m told you spotted it.”

“I heard it,” she said. “The mechanic found the alteration.”

“Good ear.”

It should have been a compliment. Mara could not tell why it made her want to leave the room.

Adrian turned to Nico and began listing staff members who had garage access. Mara listened until he mentioned a driver she knew had been away visiting family all week. Adrian corrected himself immediately, saying he was naming everyone on the access list, whether present or not.

The correction was reasonable. Mara kept listening.

By evening, they had learned little more. The camera had been disabled with a valid credential. The entry log showed no one opening the main garage door during those six minutes. There was a side service entrance, but its sensor had not registered either.

The mechanic finished documenting the bike and locked it in a separate bay. No one would repair it until the investigation was further along.

Mara left the security office with a headache. In the hallway, Adrian stood speaking quietly to one of Nico’s guards. He ended the conversation when she approached.

“Mrs. Russo says you’ve had a long day,” he told her.

“So have you.”

“We’ll find who did it.”

He held the door for her. Mara thanked him and walked on.

Halfway to the stairs, she remembered that Adrian had known about the missing six minutes before the technician announced them to Nico. He might have been told over the radio. As head of security, he probably had.

She stopped on the stairs, unwilling to accuse anyone because of an ordinary detail.

That night she lay awake, listening to footsteps pass her door. Her assigned guards changed shifts at midnight. Mara recognized one man’s voice, then another’s.

Just as she began to drift off, a memory surfaced: Adrian in the courtyard several weeks earlier, crouched beside Nico’s motorcycle after the rest of the garage staff had left.

At the time, she had thought he was checking something for Nico.

Now she wanted to know what.