The gloomy look on Charley's face had given it away early on.
As they exited the elevator to the underground garage, Steve hesitated slightly, letting Mike take the lead.
A couple more lab technicians had gathered since they first brought in the Galaxy and Porsche, some working away at the cars, others standing back as if to take in the scene.
"Who did you guys rub the wrong way?", the African American lab technician asked bluntly, and rested his fine dusting brush on the roof of the tan sedan, before taking a step toward the two detectives.
"Let's skip the small talk and get straight to the issue.", Mike barked tensely, his silver hair disheveled from one too many times of running a nervous hand through it.
Knowing better than to take the tone personal, Charley nodded obediently, then circled the Galaxy with his two guests in tow.
"Exhibit A.", he began, then pointed his gloved finger at a spot beneath the steering wheel, "One 5" .38 caliber barrel installed along the shaft of the steering wheel column. Trigger mechanism was wired to the ignition. Nice makeshift weapon that would have fired the moment Steve started the car. Leaning forward, it would have hit him square in the chest. Undoubtedly fatal. Pretty sophisticated design and hard to see from the driver's perspective, even passenger, unless you're looking for it."
Steve drew in a deep breath, unable to hide the shudder running down his back at the disturbing news, and the implications that came with it.
Next to him, Mike had come to the same conclusion.
"How long do you think he was hanging around to install this?", the Lieutenant asked and squatted down to take a better look at the contraption.
"Not long at all.", Charley answered and crossed his arms over his chest, "Jimmy the door to get in, the barrel is attached with industrial strength tape, wire into the ignition…somebody who knows what they are doing could probably pull this off in under three minutes."
"Great.", Mike grunted in defeat, almost hesitant to point at the Porsche, "What about his car? Did you find anything there?"
Steve swallowed hard when Charley nodded solemnly, then slowly walked over to his beloved sportscar, opening the hood with as much care as possible.
"You're going to have to replace your brake lines, Steve.", the Lab Tech said, then pointed at the pre-manufactured hole in the sportscars' framework off to the right side of the engine, "He put fine cuts into several segments of your lines, then quickly sealed them up again with wax. Probably heated it up with a cigarette lighter. It wouldn't have taken long for it to cool off and harden with last night's weather. So, the first time you apply the brake you won't notice a difference, but the pneumatic pressure and intense heat of the fluid will bust the lines in those weak spots wide open while you drive, so you'll be losing all your brake fluid. Next time you apply the brakes, they wouldn't have worked. Very sophisticated. Downright scary."
With neither man willing to say out loud what had just been proven beyond any reasonable doubt, Mike reached over and grabbed his partner by the nape of the neck, hoping to alleviate some of Steve's terror of realizing that he too was a target.