Chapter 31 - The Stranger at the GarageThe morning sun beat down heavily on the corrugated tin roof of the logistics garage, heating the air to a thick, uncomfortable warmth. Mateo wiped a streak of grease from his forehead with the back of his forearm, leaning over the exposed engine block of a vintage Ford pickup.
For six months, his life had been nothing but spark plugs, alternators, and the comforting predictability of mechanical failure. Engines made sense. When something was broken, you could find the source, replace the part, and the machine would run again.
There were no hidden motives in a carburetor.
"Mateo!"
He looked up. His boss, a stout man named Carlos, was waving him over to the front office. Standing next to Carlos was a man who did not belong in their quiet, working-class neighborhood.
The stranger wore a perfectly tailored linen suit, entirely unbothered by the Guadalajara heat. His shoes were polished leather, completely free of the ubiquitous dust of the garage floor.
Mateo wiped his hands on a rag and walked over, his internal alarms—the ones he thought he had permanently shut off—beginning to hum faintly in the back of his mind.
"Mateo, this gentleman needs a specialized consultation," Carlos said, looking slightly nervous. "He says he was recommended to us."
"To you, specifically," the stranger corrected. His voice was smooth, carrying a distinct, sharp accent from the Querétaro region.
Mateo’s grip on the grease rag tightened, but his face remained a mask of polite indifference.
"I'm just a mechanic, señor. What kind of car is it?"
"It’s not here," the stranger said, slipping a pair of dark sunglasses into his breast pocket. "It is a 1968 Chevrolet Impala. It has been sitting in a storage unit for... quite some time. The previous owner recently passed away. Tragic circumstances."
Mateo stared at the man. Arturo Vargas used to drive a customized '68 Impala.
"I don't do house calls," Mateo said flatly.
"You will want to make an exception for this one, Mateo," the man smiled, a cold, empty expression. "The owner left something inside the door panels. Something highly valuable. And we know you have a talent for finding things that are meant to stay hidden."
"I think you have the wrong garage," Mateo said, turning away.
"I don't make mistakes," the stranger called after him. "I'll bring the car tonight. After closing. Be here, Mateo. For the sake of your beautiful wife and your two wonderful children."
May you like
Mateo froze. The blood drained from his face.
The storm hadn't passed. It had just been resting.
