Page 18
Cole pulled his Range Rover into a spot directly in front of the electronics store. There was a glass door that provided a partial view into the shop. The rest of the storefront was made up of large panes of glass, all painted completely black, except for the bold, white letters that spelled ELECTRONICS AND VACUUM REPAIR. Random scratches in the window paint allowed streams of light to shine out onto the walkway and parking lot.
Eddie shifted in the passenger seat, and they surveyed the surrounding area, taking in the building and the parking lot in front of the small strip of shops. All of the other businesses appeared to be unoccupied or closed for the day, and the only vehicle in the lot was an old army jeep in the midst of restoration.
“Luna traced that old jeep to the owner of the store.” Cole pressed a button to cut the engine and tipped his chin up to an area above the front door. “Camera.”
“Blacked-out windows are a nice touch.” Eddie’s gaze traveled over the storefront.
Cole slid the photo of Vincent Kimball off the dash. “Let’s go.”
Both car doors swung open simultaneously. They climbed out of the SUV and, thump thump, shut the doors.
They pushed open the shop door, and an electronic tone sounded, announcing their arrival.
The place was lit by several fluorescent light fixtures dangling from chains overhead. Cameras were mounted near the ceiling in all four corners of the shop. One wall to the right was lined with metal racks laden with all types of electronics, including small household appliances, computer towers, old monitors. A variety of used vacuum cleaners were lined up against the opposite wall.
The place reeked of stale cigarettes, burnt coffee, and lubricating oil, and everything was coated with a layer of dust, indicating a lack of concern for impressing legitimate customers.
Behind the counter, a heavy-set, older man with a shaved head covered with tattoos sat on a stool, hunched over a workbench. A narrow stream of smoke rose from some sort of electronic circuit board he was fiddling with. A large piece of pegboard mounted on the wall behind the workbench was covered with tools of varying shapes, sizes, and uses, along with jars of screws, nuts, bolts, and spools of wire in many different colors, hung on hooks.
The man straightened and, with a loud creak , rotated the stool to face them. In one hand, he held a soldering iron, in the other, a long, thin piece of soldering metal. Thick glasses teetered on the end of his greasy nose. A long, scraggly, gray beard hung to the center of his chest, and his thick mustache grew over his lips.
Cole recognized him from his driver’s license photo as Waylon Griffin, the owner of the shop. He’d been dishonorably discharged from the Army at the age of twenty-seven. Apparently, he had anger management issues and a problem with authority. Well, one night, after a few too many drinks at the enlisted club on base, he got into a scuffle with a couple of guys. The military police showed up, and Griffin made the career-ending mistake of punching one of the responding officers when he was trying to cuff him.
After he spent six months locked up in the brig, the army cut him loose.
His temper got the best of him again, and he beat a guy nearly to death in a bar fight. He was sentenced to fifteen years and was released on parole after only serving twelve.
After that, Griffon went to tech school, learned a trade, and instead of making an honest living, he opened up this fine establishment and used it as a cover for his illegal ventures.
“Can I help you?” He unplugged the soldering tool, set it on the workbench, and strolled up to the counter.
“This man came in here and purchased an HJ-697 listening device and one other item.” Cole held up Kimball’s photo. “Do you remember him?”
“Nope.” He didn’t even look at the photo. But he did use his middle finger to push his glasses up his nose before crossing his arms atop his barrel gut.
“How ’bout you take another look.” Cole set the photo on the counter and slid it toward him.
“Ain’t never seen him.” Griffon did a double-take when he realized Eddie was now behind the counter and moving closer. “Um, you … you ain’t allowed back here.”
“We’ll see.” He winked and gave him one of his charming smiles as he continued to inch forward.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” Cole tapped the photo. “What else did you sell him?”
“I ain’t tellin’ yo—”
Eddie palmed the back of Griffon’s head like a basketball and smashed the side of his face onto the counter with one hand while the other twisted the guy’s arm behind his back.
“Hey!” Griffon grunted and snorted, and blood from his nose smeared all over the paperwork beneath his cheek. The more he struggled, the tighter Eddie gripped his head and the harder he pressed him against the counter.
“Now perhaps your memory has cleared up a bit.” Cole flattened a hand on either side of Griffon’s head and leaned down. “What else did he buy?”
“Fuck you.” Griffon wiggled and tried to free himself.
Eddie jerked his head up about a foot off the counter, then slammed it back down again.
“Aaaaah!” Griffon howled in pain. “All right! All right! I’ll tell you.”
Cole nodded at Eddie.
He gave a last shove to Griffin’s head and stepped back, but he stayed close, just in case the guy decided to do something stupid.
Griffin straightened from the counter, hiked up his jeans, and grabbed a red bandanna from his back pocket.
“He bought a used Salem T82 tracking device.” He held the cloth beneath his nose and tilted his head back. “Guy was so fucking cheap. I told him the new ones were more reliable, but he didn’t want to spend the extra thirty bucks.”
Cole picked up the photo, exchanged a look with Eddie, who was already moving out from behind the counter, then they headed for the door.
“Who are you guys, anyway?” Griffon looked at them as he wiped blood from his mustache.
Cole stopped and slowly turned back to him.
“That’s none of your concern.” His voice was low and threatening. “And if I find out you lied to us, you’ll be seeing us again. And next time, we won’t be so nice.”
With that ominous warning hanging in the air like a bad smell, they walked out the door.
Cole pressed the key fob to unlock the doors, they climbed into the SUV, and he immediately dialed Hawk’s number to warn him they might have company soon.