“I told you.”
“No. You gave me the résumé version.”
Elias looked toward the road.
For several seconds, he seemed to be deciding whether the past deserved air.
Then he spoke.
“I worked on vehicle reliability for convoy systems.”
Marcus remained silent.
“Early in my career, most of my work was mechanical failure analysis. Broken suspension. Overheating. Tire systems. Braking. Later, we started seeing failures that weren't failures.”
Victoria understood.
“Sabotage.”
“Sometimes.”
“You investigated it.”
“My job was to figure out why vehicles stopped.”
Marcus asked, “In combat zones?”
“Some.”
“And eventually you learned how attackers thought.”
“You learn patterns when you see enough damaged machines.”
Victoria folded her arms.
“What made you leave?”
Elias's eyes went toward his truck again.
Marcus answered before he could.
“His daughter.”
Elias looked at him.
“You listen.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Victoria waited.
Elias rubbed rain from his face.
“The work started following me home even when I wasn't home.”
She frowned.
He continued.
“I'd be at breakfast thinking about failure chains. At school events, I'd be taking calls. Lena would ask if I was coming to something, and I always said I'd try.”
He looked at the wet pavement.
“One night she stopped asking.”
Victoria's expression softened.
“How old was she?”
“Six.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing dramatic.”
His voice became quieter.
“That was the problem.”
He swallowed.
“She had a school performance.”
“You missed it.”
“By three hours.”
Marcus looked away.
Elias continued.
“I got home after midnight.”
“She was asleep on the couch.”
“Costume still on.”
“Paper star in her hand.”
He paused.
“I sat on the floor next to her and realized I knew the failure tolerances of six armored vehicles better than I knew what song my daughter had performed.”
Rain ticked softly against metal.
“So I left.”
Victoria said, “Just like that.”
“No.”
He almost laughed.
“Nothing is just like that.”
“It took eight months.”
“Applications. Certifications that didn't translate cleanly into civilian shops. Employers wondering why a man with my background wanted ordinary mechanic work.”
“And money?”
“Bad.”
“Pride?”
“Worse.”
Marcus glanced at his worn jacket.
“Still worth it?”
Elias answered immediately.
“Yes.”
That certainty seemed to affect Victoria.
She looked back at her security convoy, the executive vehicle, the men guarding her.
“Some choices cost more than others.”
“They all cost something.”
She nodded.
Marcus's radio came alive.
“Alternate route mapped. We can proceed north, then east through county roads.”
Elias looked up.
“Who mapped it?”
Marcus stopped.
“Operations center.”
Elias said nothing.
Marcus understood.
He sighed.
“Right.”
Victoria almost smiled despite the danger.
“He really is annoying when he's correct.”
“You have no idea.”
Marcus turned to his team.
“Paper map.”
One of the agents blinked.
“Sir?”
“Get the hard-copy county map from Vehicle Two.”
The agent ran.
Elias stepped toward the map when it arrived.
Marcus spread it across the hood of an SUV beneath the overhang of its rear hatch.
“Safe house here.”
He pointed.
“We're here.”
Elias studied the roads.
“You want larger roads or less predictable?”
Marcus answered, “Less predictable without isolating us.”
“This road?”
“Construction.”
“This?”
“Flood-prone.”
“This one?”
Marcus followed his finger.
“Old county connector.”
“Used?”
“Rarely at night.”