Mateo looked at him with wide, curious, dark eyes and laughed toothlessly. Sebastián blinked in surprise.
“It’s me,” I replied, crossing my arms. “And this is my boss here, Mateo.” “What can I do to help you, Mr. Moreno?”
He seemed surprised, perhaps because I hadn’t been trembling before, or perhaps because I knew his name.
“A man named Marco told me he would take on hopeless cases,” he said.
“I prefer to call them complex challenges,” I said, and headed to Matteo’s garage to pick him up after he started to squirm.
“I attach it to the front trunk, which I always use. I feel its warmth giving me strength.”
“What is it?” Sebastian sighed, a deep sadness in his breath.
– Bugatti Veyron. 2015 Special Edition. The engine was broken.
I whistled softly. – W16 engine. Four turbochargers. Sixteen cylinders. An engineering marvel.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A crazy race on a private track. I pushed the car to the limit. I wanted to feel it, I wanted to feel my father. It was the last gift he gave me before he died. And now, it’s just scrap metal. It was examined by nine engineers—French, German, Italian. They all said the same thing: the risk is too great. One mistake and the engine block is destroyed.” Nobody wants to tarnish their reputation by touching a car worth three million euros.
He looked at me, both defiantly and pleadingly.
Marco said you work in the turbine department at Airbus in Getafe. That you’re a genius. That you’re crazy or desperate enough to try.
My pride hurt me.
I said it firmly and patted Mateo on the back. “I left Airbus because it’s not a suitable place for a single mother who has no one to look after her child if she has a fever. Yes, I’m desperate. The garage rental fees
And my apartment rent will go up next month too, and I’m not going to get rich changing the oil in taxis. But I’m not crazy. I’m good at what I do.
“Prove it,” he said defiantly.
“Bring the car here,” I said. “If I can’t fix it, I won’t pay you a single euro. But if you yell at him again, you’ll pay me 150,000 euros. Half is spent upfront on parts, and the rest when it’s ready.”
He raised his eyebrows. The amount was insignificant to him, but to me it was for life. Matteo’s future and our safety were at stake.
“We have reached an agreement,” he said.
The next day, the Bugatti arrived with a van. The neighbors came out onto their balconies. It’s not every day that a navy blue spaceship lands between brick buildings.
When the hood was lifted and I saw the engine, I felt dizzy. It was worse than I had imagined. The heat was melting the parts; the pistons were shattered and the crankshaft was bent like a piece of modern art.
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