By eight o'clock on Thursday night, Apex Iron Works had closed to the public, but the workshop lights still burned above the black FXR. Outside, the last warmth of the day lifted from the pavement, and the distant sounds of traffic drifted through the partly open bay door. Inside, four mechanics stood over their notes, comparing the measurements recorded in Arthur's folder with the results of their own inspections. The motorcycle looked nearly complete again, but Rusty did not allow appearance to substitute for proof.
Tommy was the first to finish his section of the final checklist. He placed his pen on the bench and rubbed both eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to clear away the fatigue of two weeks of failed attempts. "The custom components fit the documented arrangement," he said. "The damaged pieces are out, the spares have been checked, and I don't see a reason to stop on the mechanical side. That's the most confident I've felt about this bike since it arrived."
Pete looked over his own notes. "I can account for the old wiring and the later repair now. The damaged connection has been replaced, and the hidden security feature behaves the way Arty described when we check it without running the engine." He tapped a line with his pencil. "There's no excuse to keep calling the problem a mysterious short. We simply didn't understand what we were looking at."
"And the rest?" Rusty asked.
"No unexplained drain during the inspection period," Pete answered. "That doesn't prove the whole machine will behave perfectly tomorrow, but it's a real improvement."
Dave had been quiet for some time. He worked through the fastening checks with deliberate care, pausing when something felt slightly different from what he expected and asking Tommy to look at it independently. He had always been proud of his strength, the ease with which he could move parts that made smaller mechanics reach for another pair of hands. This week had forced him to recognize that strength was useful only when it followed judgment, and he had begun to admire Leo for knowing when not to pretend.
"I checked my part twice," he said at last. "Not because the kid told me how to do my job. Because he reminded me the whole point is doing the job right." He looked toward the dark office where Leo had sat earlier. "I hope somebody tells him that matters."
"I'll tell him," Rusty said.
They ran through the remaining non-running inspections and reviewed the starting procedure from the standpoint of safety, keeping the bike secure and the work area clear. Rusty had considered calling Jim to ask permission to start it that night, but he had promised a proper demonstration on Friday, and all the preliminary checks supported waiting until the owner could be present. It was not an entirely comfortable decision. An unproven engine carried uncertainty, no matter how carefully the adults had prepared it.
"What if it still refuses?" Tommy asked.
Rusty looked at the motorcycle. "Then we don't pretend otherwise. We stop, understand why, and tell Jim what we know. We haven't spent three days learning to be honest just to forget it when the starter doesn't give us the answer we want."