Read Chapter 30: Missing Colleague Found

The knock came at one in the morning.

Elise had been staring at the same suspension telemetry graph for forty minutes, the numbers blurring into meaningless noise. The knock was soft—almost apologetic—but sharp enough to cut through the hum of the hotel's air conditioning. She set down her tablet, crossed the room in bare feet, and peered through the peephole.

Pierre stood in the hallway, gaunt and hollow-eyed, clutching a duffel bag to his chest like a shield.

She opened the door without hesitation. "Pierre."

"Elise." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

"Get inside." She stepped aside, scanning the empty corridor before closing and locking the door. "How long have you been—sit down. Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

He shook his head but sank onto the edge of the bed anyway, the duffel bag still pressed against him. His engineering team polo hung loose on his frame, the collar frayed. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"I should have come forward sooner," he said. "I know that. But I was scared."

"Pierre, what happened? You disappeared before Silverstone. No one could find you. We thought—" She stopped herself. *We thought you were involved.* She didn't need to say it.

"I know what you thought." He finally let the bag drop to the floor. "And I can't blame you. Marta came to me the night before qualifying at Silverstone. She told me if I said anything about what I'd seen—about the chip, about the data tampering—that I wouldn't just lose my job. She said she had people who could make me disappear. And after what happened to the car, after the sabotage was found, I believed her."

Elise's stomach turned. "Marta. The mole was Marta."

"She's been feeding information to Visser's people for two years. She was Reynard's eyes inside the engineering department." Pierre pulled a crumpled USB drive from his pocket. "I documented everything. Dates. Meetings. Files she accessed that she had no clearance for. There's enough here to put her away twice over."

Elise took the drive, turning it over in her palm. "Why did you run? Why not bring this to me or the team principal?"

"Because I didn't know who else she'd compromised." His eyes met hers, and she saw genuine fear in them. "I still don't. But when I saw the news about Reynard's arrest, about the FIA sanctioning Bjorn, I thought maybe it was safe. Then Visser's contact called me yesterday."

"Someone called you?"

"A man. He said Visser wanted me to know that there were still people who owed him favors. That if I testified, I'd be making an enemy I couldn't outrun." Pierre's jaw tightened. "I ran anyway. I drove eight hours straight without stopping. I didn't know where else to be safe except here, with you."

The weight of his trust settled heavy on Elise's shoulders. She thought of Visser's veiled warning at the Texas diner, the way his smile had never quite reached his eyes. *Unseen people remain loyal to him.*

"You're safe now," she said, though she wasn't sure she believed it. "I've already submitted the chip evidence to the FIA. Reynard's arrest, Bjorn's sanction—that was all from the audio file. Your testimony, your documentation, that could be what finally brings Marta down. And clears you completely."

"I know I put you in a difficult position. The suspicion, the questions—"

"It doesn't matter now." She sat down across from him. "What matters is that you're here, and you're willing to testify."

Pierre nodded slowly. "I'll do it. Whatever they need. I want to go back to work, Elise. I want to help build the car that wins this championship. I don't want to hide anymore."

Elise reached across and squeezed his hand. "Then welcome back to the team."

---

The FIA moved faster than anyone expected. Within forty-eight hours of Pierre's statement and forensic analysis of his documentation, the investigation concluded. Marta was arrested at the team's Austin transport facility, handcuffed in front of the freight containers carrying the cars to Texas. The charges were comprehensive: sabotage, conspiracy, endangerment of drivers and staff. The evidence was irrefutable.

The team principal called Elise personally with the news, his voice carrying an unusual note of warmth. "Your name never even came up in their questioning. You're completely in the clear. The official record now shows you were instrumental in uncovering the full extent of the conspiracy."

Elise hung up feeling lighter than she had in months. The shadow that had followed her since the sabotage discovery, the whispered questions about whether she'd been complicit, the careful distance from colleagues who'd once trusted her—all of it dissolved with a phone call.

The engineering building at the factory had an energy she hadn't felt in weeks when she walked in the next morning. Pierre was there, freshly showered and wearing a clean team polo, standing at his workstation. He was surrounded by three other engineers, all of them talking animatedly about suspension settings. When he saw Elise, he straightened.

"Interim head of engineering," he said, a hint of his old smile returning. "That's quite a promotion."

"It's temporary." She walked over. "And it came with a lot of baggage."

"So I heard." He glanced at the others, who drifted back to their stations. "I also heard you rebuilt the entire rear suspension strategy from scratch with Julien."

"He helped. He's got a better feel for what the car needs than most of our data suggests."

Pierre nodded slowly. "I never got to apologize for doubting you. When Marta planted those suggestions, when she made it look like you might be involved—I believed some of it. I'm ashamed of that."

"You came back. You brought evidence that cleared everything. That's what matters."

"I want to help with Monaco. With the rest of the season." He gestured at his screen, already populated with new telemetry. "I've been keeping up with the races from hiding. I have some ideas about the tire degradation we're seeing. Nothing major, but—"

"Then let's hear them." Elise pulled up a chair. "We've got a championship to fight for."

---

That evening, Elise found Julien in the drivers' lounge at the factory, watching old Monaco race footage on a tablet. He muted it when she walked in.

"I heard," he said. "Pierre's back. Marta's in custody."

"The FIA called this morning. They're dropping any remaining suspicion against me. Official clearance."

He set the tablet aside and stood. "That's good news. That's really good news." He crossed the room and stopped in front of her, his eyes searching hers. "And you didn't tell me about any of the investigation pressure you were under."

"There wasn't anything you could do."

"There wasn't anything I could do," he repeated. "Elise, that's not why I ask. I ask because you keep carrying these burdens alone. The investigation, the sabotage, the decisions about the car—"

"It's my job."

"It's burdens," he said quietly. "And you've been carrying them for months without telling me."

She should tell him now. About the Austin ultimatum from the title sponsor. About the win-or-lose-the-budget deadline. About her sister—the full story, the cover-up, the guilt she'd carried for years. She opened her mouth, ready to let it all pour out.

But what came out instead was: "Pierre mentioned something. When he was in hiding, someone contacted him on behalf of Visser. Said there were still people who owed him favors. People who could hurt anyone who crossed him."

Julien's expression darkened. "Did Visser contact you directly?"

"At Austin, yes. A warning. Nothing specific enough to report." She shook her head. "I'm not worried about him. He's been sanctioned. His career is over."

"There are other ways to hurt people than through official channels."

"I know." She took a breath. "But we have to focus on the racing. Monaco is in three days, and we need to win this championship. That's what matters."

Julien studied her for a long moment. "There's something else you're not telling me."

"There's always something else I'm not telling you." She managed a small smile. "But right now, Pierre is back, Marta is gone, and the team is finally whole. Can we just have this moment?"

He exhaled, then nodded. "Fine. But after Monaco—after we win—you're going to tell me everything. And I'm going to listen without interrupting."

"After Monaco," she agreed.

But even as she said it, Elise felt the weight of the Austin ultimatum pressing against her chest. Three days until Monaco. Win the race, keep the sponsor, save the development budget. Lose, and everything they'd built—the trust, the momentum, the championship hope—could crumble.

And somewhere out there, Visser's unseen allies were still waiting.