The diner was empty, and the street outside was devoid of all movement. Kushi had locked up and sent the cook and waitresses home. Chris examined the ceiling of the diner. “Where are they?” The old man looked up, fine lines appearing beside his eyes as he squinted. “They’re state-of-the-art.” He pointed to a speck on the ceiling. “There’s one,” he said and pointed two more times. “And there, and there.” Chris shook his head. “You can barely see them,” he said as he glanced between the tiny cameras in the ceiling and the footage on the laptop, “and the video quality is excellent.” Kushi nodded. ”Your dad spares no expenses when it comes to surveillance equipment.” He glanced down at the computer screen. “What do you think they’re talking about?” Chris shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask my dad.” He pushed the play button and listened for a while. “What is this ‘peak oil’ they’re on about?” he asked, glancing up at Kushi.
