SECOND WIND GARAGE – Chapter 4 — The Car That Was Never Stolen

The silver Hyundai Stellar arrived at Second Wind Garage on a flatbed just before sunset.

It was longer and more formal than the cars already occupying Frank Han’s workshop. The faded Pride and mismatched Excel looked like ordinary family transportation rescued from hard lives.

The Stellar looked like it had once been important.

Its squared body carried thin chrome trim, rectangular headlights, and a proud upright grille. Dust covered the paint, but beneath it remained the soft metallic silver associated with government offices, hotel entrances, and businessmen who preferred to be driven rather than seen repairing anything themselves.

The rear suspension sagged almost to the ground.

One tire was flat.

The trunk lid had been secured with rope.

Leon walked around it slowly.

“This is not just an old Hyundai.”

Frank removed his glasses and cleaned them against his coveralls.

“It is exactly an old Hyundai.”

“No, I mean it has presence.”

“It has approximately six hundred kilograms resting on one rear spring.”

Maya crouched beside the passenger door and examined the cracked dealership sticker.

“This one was sold here. Not imported later.”

The man in the tailored suit stood beside the tow truck with his hands clasped behind his back.

He introduced himself as Jonathan Seo, an investment consultant in his early fifties.

He did not look like someone who normally transported decaying sedans under cover of darkness.

Frank held the photograph Jonathan had given him.

It showed the same silver Stellar parked outside a large stone government building in Seoul during the late 1980s. A younger man stood beside the driver’s door wearing a dark suit and a serious expression.

“That is your father?” Frank asked.

Jonathan nodded.

“His name is Dr. Minho Seo. He worked in trade administration before our family moved to Canada.”

“And the car?”

“It was his.”

“You said he believes it was stolen.”

Jonathan glanced toward Leon and Maya.

“Perhaps we could discuss that privately.”

Frank looked around the garage.

“This is private.”

Leon leaned against the workbench.

“Very private.”

Maya opened her laptop.

“I can stop taking notes.”

Jonathan sighed.

“The car disappeared in 1999.”

Frank waited.

Jonathan looked at the Stellar.

“My father was told someone took it from the underground parking garage beneath his apartment.”

“Who told him?”

“I did.”

Leon straightened.

Maya stopped typing.

Frank put his glasses back on.

“You stole your father’s car.”

“No.”

“You said it was stolen.”

“It was not stolen.”

“Then where did it go?”

Jonathan looked toward the floor.

“I sold it.”

---

The Son Who Needed Money

In 1999, Jonathan was twenty-five years old and deeply in debt.

He had left university, invested in a business started by two friends, and borrowed money without telling his parents. The business failed within six months.

The friends disappeared.

The debt remained.

Jonathan’s father had recently stopped driving the Stellar after purchasing a newer sedan. The Hyundai sat unused in the apartment garage, still registered and insured, its keys hanging inside a kitchen cabinet.

Jonathan believed the old car had little value.

A used-car dealer offered him enough money to delay his creditors.

Jonathan forged his father’s signature, handed over the keys, and watched the Stellar leave on the back of a transport truck.

When his father noticed the empty parking space, Jonathan panicked.

He said the car had been stolen.

His father reported it to the police.

For several months, Dr. Seo called tow yards, insurance offices, and impound lots. He placed advertisements in community newspapers and visited dealerships that sold used Korean cars.

The Stellar was never found.

Jonathan’s debt was eventually paid, but the lie remained.

“My father believed someone targeted the car because of his old government work,” Jonathan said. “He thought documents might have been hidden inside it.”

“Were there documents?” Maya asked.

“No.”

Leon looked toward the trunk.

“That you know of.”

Jonathan ignored him.

“My father stopped discussing it after a few years. I assumed the car had been scrapped.”

Frank walked slowly around the Stellar.

“But it was not.”

“Last month, I received a message from a vehicle-history service. I had registered the identification number years ago. The car resurfaced during an estate sale.”

Jonathan had contacted the seller immediately.

The Stellar had passed through four owners.

It had been used as a winter car, a delivery vehicle, and eventually as storage inside a rural barn. The final owner had planned to convert it into an electric vehicle but never began the project.

Jonathan bought it back.

He had not yet told his father.

Dr. Seo’s eightieth birthday was three months away.

Jonathan wanted the Stellar restored and placed outside the family home as a surprise.

Maya closed the laptop.

“You’re going to give him the car and admit what happened.”

Jonathan hesitated.

“I intend to return the car.”

“That was not the question.”

Jonathan looked at Frank.

“I hoped the restoration might allow the past to remain uncomplicated.”

Frank lifted the rope from the trunk lid.

“The past is already complicated.”

“My father is old.”

“Old people can still hear the truth.”

“I do not want to hurt him.”

Frank opened the trunk.

A smell of old fuel, paper, and damp upholstery escaped into the garage.

“You already hurt him.”

Jonathan’s face tightened.

“I came here for a restoration, Mr. Han. Not a moral judgment.”

Frank examined the rust along the trunk floor.

“You brought both.”

---

The Formal Car

The Stellar’s condition was worse than its dignified exterior suggested.

The rear springs had collapsed.

The fuel tank leaked along its seam.

The carburetor was partially seized.

The brake fluid had turned dark and thick.

One rear brake line had been flattened where someone incorrectly positioned a jack.

Mice had damaged sections of the wiring harness, and the heater fan contained enough nesting material to fill a small wastebasket.

The engine turned by hand, but only reluctantly.

Frank removed the spark plugs.

The third cylinder contained rust.

Leon looked through the plug hole with a small inspection camera.

“That wall is rough.”

“How rough?” Maya asked.

Leon rotated the screen.

“Like the surface of the moon.”

Frank studied the image.

“We will know after the head comes off.”

Jonathan stood several metres away, careful not to touch anything.

“How long will this take?”

Frank continued working.

“Longer than telling your father.”

“I am serious.”

“So am I.”

Gloria entered carrying a clipboard.

“We have not accepted the job yet.”

Jonathan turned toward her.

“I will pay whatever is necessary.”

Gloria looked at Frank.

Frank looked at the Stellar.

Money was not the issue.

The garage had recently received more inquiries than it could handle. The Stellar required structural repair, mechanical rebuilding, interior restoration, and rare parts that might no longer exist.

Frank could refuse.

He probably should refuse.

Then he noticed a small metal badge mounted beneath the dashboard.

It read:

SEO FAMILY — 1988

The lettering had been engraved by hand.

Frank pointed toward it.

“Who made that?”

Jonathan stepped closer.

“My father.”

“He engraved it himself?”

“Yes. He liked small projects. Before his government career, he trained as an engineer.”

Frank touched the badge lightly.

“Does he still make things?”

“Not anymore.”

“Why?”

“His hands shake.”

Frank looked toward the old Stellar.

The car had been neglected, misused, and forgotten by everyone except the man who once searched for it.

Frank turned to Gloria.

“Prepare the inspection agreement.”

Jonathan exhaled with relief.

Frank raised one finger.

“There is a condition.”

Jonathan nodded.

“Anything.”

“You work on the car.”

Jonathan’s relief disappeared.

“I do not know anything about mechanics.”

“You know how to sell one.”

“That was twenty-seven years ago.”

“Then you have had time to learn the rest.”

---

Jonathan’s First Day

Jonathan arrived the following Saturday wearing new work boots, expensive gloves, and coveralls so clean they still held their packaging creases.

Leon looked him over.

“You look like a catalogue model for people who do not repair things.”

Jonathan ignored him.

Frank handed him a plastic scraper.

“You will remove the old sound insulation from the trunk.”

Jonathan stared at the dark adhesive covering the floor.

“How?”

“With the scraper.”

“All of it?”

“No. Leave the damaged parts.”

Jonathan looked confused.

“It is all damaged.”

Frank nodded.

Jonathan spent three hours crouched inside the trunk.

The work was slow, uncomfortable, and dirty. The old material came away in fragments. Rust appeared beneath it, followed by several poorly welded patches installed during the car’s years as a delivery vehicle.

Jonathan complained about his back.

Frank continued dismantling the engine.

Jonathan complained about the smell.

Frank continued.

Jonathan complained that the scraper was too dull.

Frank handed him a file.

“Sharpen it.”

By late afternoon, Jonathan had removed less than half the insulation.

Gloria brought tea into the garage.

She looked at the trunk.

“You missed a section.”

Jonathan stared at her.

“I have been doing this all day.”

Gloria nodded.

“That explains why you are tired. It does not explain the missed section.”

Maya turned away to hide her smile.

---

The Photograph in the Door

While removing the rear door panel, Leon found an envelope wedged inside the metal frame.

The paper had yellowed and absorbed moisture, but the contents remained intact.

Inside were three photographs.

The first showed Dr. Seo standing beside the new Stellar on the day he purchased it.

The second showed Jonathan and his younger sister asleep across the rear seat during a family trip.

The third showed Dr. Seo kneeling beside the car with a toolbox open, repairing something beneath the dashboard.

Jonathan took the photographs carefully.

“I did not know these were here.”

Frank examined the door cavity.

“Your father may have hidden them.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps he wanted the car to remember.”

Jonathan studied the photograph of his younger self.

The Stellar had been more than his father’s formal work car.

It had carried the family to their first apartment in Canada.

It had taken Jonathan to school interviews, his sister to music lessons, and his mother to night shifts at a hospital.

After Dr. Seo purchased a newer vehicle, the Stellar remained because he insisted it was still useful.

Jonathan had seen an old car with little value.

His father had seen the final surviving object from a difficult period when the family was still building its life.

“I thought he kept it because he hated throwing things away,” Jonathan said.

Frank placed the photographs inside protective sleeves.

“That may also be true.”

---

The Engine Debate

The Stellar’s original engine block could be saved, but only with extensive machining.

Cylinder three required boring.

The crankshaft needed polishing.

The cylinder head had corrosion around one coolant passage.

Leon found a newer replacement engine through a local seller.

“It is already running,” he said. “We could install it next week.”

Jonathan looked toward Frank.

“Would it make the car more reliable?”

“Probably.”

“Then why rebuild the original?”

Frank pointed toward the engraved dashboard badge.

“Because your father repaired this engine.”

Jonathan seemed surprised.

“How do you know?”

Frank showed him several small marks punched into the cylinder head and timing cover.

Each mark formed a tiny letter.

M.S.

“He signed his work,” Frank said.

Jonathan moved closer.

“My father used to mark everything he repaired.”

“This engine was apart before.”

“When?”

“Long before you sold the car.”

Jonathan ran his thumb over the tiny marks.

“Can it be rebuilt?”

“Yes.”

“Then rebuild it.”

Frank shook his head.

“No.”

Jonathan looked up.

“You just said it could be saved.”

“It can.”

“Then why not?”

Frank placed the damaged piston on the bench.

“You rebuild it.”

---

Learning Precision

Frank did not expect Jonathan to become an engine builder in several weeks.

He expected him to understand what the work required.

Jonathan cleaned components.

He measured bearing journals.

He learned how to read a micrometer after repeatedly holding it incorrectly.

Frank showed him how a measurement taken carelessly could be wrong by enough to destroy an engine.

Jonathan grew impatient.

“The difference is almost invisible.”

“The engine will notice.”

They sent the block to a machine shop, where the damaged cylinder was bored and the deck checked for distortion.

When it returned, Frank supervised the assembly.

Jonathan installed the main bearings.

He checked clearances using measuring strip and recorded every result in the project notebook.

He installed one piston incorrectly and had to remove it.

He dropped a circlip and spent forty minutes searching the floor.

Leon found it stuck to the bottom of Jonathan’s new boot.

Jonathan stopped arriving in expensive gloves.

He began bringing old clothes and his own notebook.

He stopped asking how long the restoration would take.

One evening, after the others had left, Frank found him alone at the workbench polishing the engraved M.S. marks on the timing cover.

“You missed a spot,” Frank said.

Jonathan looked up.

“Where?”

Frank pointed.

Jonathan returned to the work.

Frank poured two cups of tea.

---

Trevor’s Offer

Trevor Knox arrived during the fifth week.

He had heard about the Stellar through customers discussing Second Wind Garage online.

He walked around the car, inspecting the stripped body and partially rebuilt engine.

“This is ambitious.”

Leon crossed his arms.

“You said the Excel was disposable.”

“It was.”

“And the Pride?”

“Also disposable.”

Trevor looked at the Stellar.

“This one has novelty.”

Frank continued welding a section of floor.

Trevor leaned toward Jonathan.

“My shop could finish this much faster. Modern engine, air suspension, digital dashboard, new interior. You would have something people actually notice.”

Jonathan looked toward Frank.

“What would happen to the original engine?”

Trevor shrugged.

“Scrap it.”

“And the suspension?”

“Replace everything.”

“The dashboard?”

“Probably easier to remove it.”

Jonathan studied the car.

Several weeks earlier, Trevor’s proposal might have appealed to him.

A modernized Stellar would be dramatic. It would be clean, powerful, and impressive enough to present as a grand gesture.

It would also erase almost everything his father had touched.

“No,” Jonathan said.

Trevor smiled.

“You have not heard the price.”

“I heard enough.”

Trevor looked surprised.

Jonathan pointed toward the timing cover.

“My father rebuilt that engine.”

Trevor glanced at the small initials.

“So?”

Jonathan picked up a cleaning brush.

“So it stays.”

Frank did not look up.

But Maya saw him smile.

---

The Locked Glovebox

The Stellar’s glovebox had remained locked since the car arrived.

None of the keys fit.

Jonathan assumed it was empty.

Frank refused to damage the original lock.

Maya photographed the keyway and created a model of the mechanism. Leon searched through old Hyundai keys collected from dismantled cars.

After several attempts, one key turned halfway.

Frank applied light pressure.

The lock clicked.

Inside were old insurance documents, road maps, a pair of driving gloves, and a small cassette recorder.

The batteries had leaked decades earlier.

Maya cleaned the contacts and connected external power.

The recorder worked.

The tape inside began with wind noise.

Then Dr. Seo’s voice filled the garage.

He was speaking in Korean, apparently recording notes while driving.

Maya translated the sections Jonathan could not remember clearly.

Dr. Seo discussed meetings, fuel expenses, and problems with the Stellar’s rear suspension.

Then his tone changed.

He recorded a message to his children.

“Jonathan thinks this car embarrasses him. One day he will understand that a family should keep something from the years when it had very little.”

Jonathan stood completely still.

The recording continued.

“A new car shows what you can buy. An old car shows what you refused to abandon.”

The tape clicked off.

No one spoke.

Jonathan opened the driver’s door and sat behind the wheel.

The cracked steering wheel remained installed. The dashboard was dusty. Much of the interior had been removed.

He rested his hands where his father’s hands had once been.

Maya closed the glovebox gently.

Frank returned to the engine bench.

He understood that some moments required silence more than comfort.

---

The Rear Suspension Mystery

The Stellar’s sagging rear suspension was not caused only by worn springs.

The rear axle sat slightly off-centre.

One mounting bracket had bent.

The chassis showed signs of an old impact that had never been properly repaired.

Frank measured the body from several reference points.

The numbers did not match.

Leon examined the underside.

“This car was hit hard.”

Jonathan looked through the old records found in the glovebox.

“There is no accident report.”

Frank pointed toward a welded repair concealed beneath undercoating.

“Someone repaired it without reporting it.”

Jonathan frowned.

“My father would have mentioned an accident.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Why would he hide it?”

Frank scraped away more undercoating.

Beneath it appeared another set of punched initials.

M.S.

Jonathan stared at them.

His father had repaired the damage himself.

The accident likely occurred years before the car disappeared.

The repair had held for decades, but age and corrosion had weakened the surrounding metal.

Frank fabricated a new bracket using the original dimensions. Jonathan cut away the damaged section under supervision.

His first cut wandered.

Frank stopped him.

“Again.”

“There is no second chance once I cut it.”

“There is always another piece of metal.”

Jonathan repositioned the tool.

“What if I make it worse?”

“Then you learn how to repair what you damaged.”

Jonathan made the cut.

This time, it followed the line.

---

The Confession Letter

As the restoration approached completion, Jonathan became increasingly quiet.

His father’s birthday was four weeks away.

The engine ran.

The body had been repaired.

The rear suspension sat level.

The silver paint had been cleaned and preserved rather than completely replaced. Frank restored the chrome, repaired the original interior, and retained the worn steering wheel where Dr. Seo’s hands had polished the surface smooth.

The car was nearly ready.

Jonathan was not.

One evening, Gloria found him sitting alone in the office.

He was holding a blank sheet of paper.

“You should write what you are unable to say,” she told him.

Jonathan looked at the page.

“I do not know how to begin.”

“Begin with the part that is true.”

He wrote:

Father, the Stellar was never stolen.

Then stopped.

Gloria sat across from him.

“That is a beginning.”

“He may never forgive me.”

“That is his decision.”

“I restored the car.”

“You helped restore the car.”

“I brought it back.”

“You brought back the object.”

Jonathan looked at her.

Gloria pointed toward the letter.

“Now bring back the truth.”

Jonathan wrote for nearly two hours.

He described the debt, the fear, the forged signature, and the lie.

He explained how he had found the Stellar.

He did not ask for forgiveness.

He only admitted what had happened.

When he finished, Frank read the letter once.

Jonathan waited.

“Is it enough?”

Frank folded the paper and placed it inside an envelope.

“It is late.”

“That was not what I asked.”

“Late truth is still truth.”

---

The First Start

The rebuilt engine was ready for its first start.

Jonathan sat behind the wheel.

Frank stood beside the open hood.

Maya monitored the engine temperature.

Leon held the fire extinguisher, a responsibility he had adopted with excessive pride.

Gloria watched from the doorway.

Jonathan turned the key.

The starter clicked.

Nothing else happened.

Leon lifted the extinguisher slightly.

Frank checked the battery connection.

Tight.

He inspected the starter cable.

Good.

Maya checked voltage.

Correct.

Jonathan tried again.

Another click.

Frank tapped the starter housing.

The engine turned slowly, then stopped.

Leon looked toward the rebuilt engine.

“Maybe Trevor was right.”

Four people turned toward him.

Leon lowered the extinguisher.

“About nothing. Trevor is never right.”

Frank removed the starter.

The internal bushings had worn, allowing the armature to drag against the housing.

A replacement could be ordered.

It would arrive in several days.

Jonathan looked at the old starter.

“Can we rebuild it?”

Frank placed it on the bench.

“Yes.”

“Can I do it?”

Frank handed him a wrench.

“You are finally asking the correct question.”

They worked past midnight.

Jonathan disassembled the starter, cleaned the commutator, replaced the worn bushings, and inspected the brushes.

One brush holder had cracked.

No replacement was available locally.

Maya designed a small insulating support.

Frank machined it from suitable material.

Jonathan assembled the unit.

At 2:14 in the morning, the starter returned to the Stellar.

Jonathan turned the key.

The engine rotated.

It coughed once.

Then the rebuilt four-cylinder came alive.

The Stellar idled roughly at first.

Frank adjusted the carburetor.

The shaking softened.

Oil pressure rose.

Temperature remained stable.

Jonathan watched the gauges.

He began to laugh.

Not loudly.

It was the laugh of someone who had spent twenty-seven years carrying a secret and had finally heard part of it start moving again.

Frank closed the hood.

“Do not celebrate yet.”

“What is wrong?”

“The transmission is leaking.”

Jonathan looked beneath the car.

A small puddle had begun forming on the floor.

Frank handed him a drain pan.

“Restoration is a long conversation.”

---

The Birthday

Dr. Minho Seo’s eightieth birthday was held at the family home.

Jonathan invited close relatives for lunch.

He did not mention the Stellar.

Frank, Gloria, Maya, and Leon waited several streets away with the car.

The silver Hyundai had been polished but not transformed into a flawless showpiece.

Small imperfections remained.

The chrome carried faint marks.

The interior showed its age.

The steering wheel remained worn.

The engraved SEO FAMILY — 1988 badge had been cleaned and returned beneath the dashboard.

Jonathan drove the Stellar toward the house.

Frank sat beside him.

“You can still turn around,” Frank said.

Jonathan gripped the wheel.

“Are you telling me to?”

“No.”

The car stopped at the curb.

Dr. Seo stood on the front steps surrounded by family.

At first, he appeared confused.

Then he recognized the grille.

He walked slowly toward the car.

His hands trembled at his sides.

Jonathan stepped out.

No one spoke.

Dr. Seo touched the hood.

He walked along the driver’s side, examining the chrome and the old registration sticker.

He opened the door.

The engraved family badge remained where he had placed it decades earlier.

“My Stellar,” he whispered.

Jonathan removed the envelope from his jacket.

“Father, there is something I need to tell you.”

Dr. Seo looked at the letter.

Jonathan continued before fear could stop him.

“It was never stolen.”

The family became silent.

Jonathan explained.

He did not shorten the story.

He did not protect himself.

He admitted that he had taken the keys, forged the signature, sold the car, and lied.

Dr. Seo listened without interrupting.

When Jonathan finished, he held out the envelope.

His father did not take it.

Instead, Dr. Seo looked toward the Stellar.

“You let me search for it.”

Jonathan lowered his head.

“Yes.”

“For years.”

“Yes.”

“You knew.”

“Yes.”

Dr. Seo’s face hardened.

Jonathan’s sister stepped forward, but Frank quietly raised one hand.

This was not a moment to interrupt.

Dr. Seo looked at his son.

“Why tell me now?”

“Because bringing back the car without the truth would be another lie.”

Dr. Seo finally took the envelope.

He did not open it.

He walked around the Stellar again.

“Who repaired it?”

Jonathan looked toward Frank.

“We did.”

Dr. Seo turned back.

“You?”

“I helped.”

“What did you repair?”

Jonathan described the engine, the rear bracket, the starter, and the damaged wiring.

Dr. Seo listened closely.

Jonathan showed him the small M.S. marks preserved on the timing cover.

His father touched the initials.

“I made those.”

“I know.”

For the first time, Dr. Seo’s expression softened.

Not completely.

The hurt remained.

Forgiveness had not arrived simply because the car had.

Jonathan opened the driver’s door.

“Would you like to start it?”

Dr. Seo looked at him.

“You start it.”

Jonathan sat behind the wheel.

His father took the passenger seat.

The old engine started immediately.

For several seconds, both men stared through the windshield.

Then Dr. Seo placed one shaking hand on the dashboard.

“The idle is too high.”

Jonathan looked toward Frank.

Frank smiled.

Dr. Seo pointed toward the carburetor.

“Open the hood.”

---

The Drive Home

Father and son spent nearly an hour adjusting the engine together.

Dr. Seo’s hands shook too much to turn the small screws accurately, so Jonathan held the tool while his father guided him.

A quarter turn.

Listen.

Another small adjustment.

Listen again.

The idle settled.

Dr. Seo nodded.

“Better.”

They took the Stellar around the neighbourhood.

Jonathan drove first.

His father criticized his shifting.

Then Dr. Seo drove.

Frank expected him to be cautious.

He was not.

The older man accelerated firmly, listened to the engine, and took the long way back to the house.

When they returned, he remained seated.

Jonathan waited.

Dr. Seo looked at the silver hood.

“I am still angry.”

“I know.”

“I do not forgive you today.”

“I understand.”

Dr. Seo turned toward his son.

“But you will come next Saturday.”

Jonathan looked confused.

“Why?”

“The left rear door makes noise.”

Jonathan smiled.

“We can fix it.”

Dr. Seo nodded.

“You will fix it.”

---

The Fourth Entry

That evening, Frank opened the garage ledger.

Beneath the entries for the Scoupe, Excel, and Pride, he wrote:

1988 Hyundai Stellar

Owner: Minho Seo

Reason for restoration: Some things return before forgiveness does.

Maya stood beside him.

“Do you think Dr. Seo will forgive Jonathan?”

Frank closed the ledger.

“That is not our repair.”

Outside, Leon shouted from the driveway.

“Frank, you need to see this.”

A flatbed had stopped in front of the garage.

On it sat a tiny two-door coupe with pop-up headlights, faded yellow paint, and severe front-end damage.

Maya stepped outside.

“Is that a Kia Elan?”

Leon stared at the car.

“What happened to it?”

The driver climbed down from the tow truck.

“She was found inside a shipping container.”

Frank walked around the crushed nose.

The engine bay contained leaves, rust, and evidence that several important components had been removed.

The driver handed him a customs document.

“The owner purchased it at an abandoned-storage auction. He thought it was an old British sports car.”

Frank examined the Korean badges.

“What does he think now?”

The driver shrugged.

“He wants his money back.”

Leon touched the damaged front fender.

“This could be rare.”

Frank looked through the broken windshield.

A note had been taped to the steering wheel.

It read:

DO NOT START. ENGINE PARTS MISSING. BRAKES UNKNOWN. OWNER ANGRY.

Frank removed his glasses.

Maya smiled.

“So are we inspecting it?”

Frank looked toward the crowded garage.

“No.”

Gloria appeared behind him holding a new work agreement.

Frank sighed.

“We will inspect it.”

To be continued.