In the Trenches
Frozen earth crunched under steady footfalls as Eliot Spencer took up quiet position in an alley between an empty storefront and the condemned husk of an apartment building. The yellow painted brick walls of the apartment building bulged toward the alley as if further proof was needed that the structure was unsound.
When he cased the neighborhood the night before, dim lights seeped from gaps in the plywood that covered the windows. The building was not empty. Something else to be aware of, he thought, just as he was keen to be aware of people milling about and working their way along the broken sidewalks that lined the streets. There wasn't much activity, but enough.
A layer of frost gave a milky, needle-like covering to the myriad of debris. Bitter winds whipped through the narrow passage, crackling old leaves and wadded up newspapers scattered about. The frozen world did not—could not—hide the stench of bile and decay. Even subtle, the old smells reminded Eliot of darkened place and narrow passageways in cities like Yangon, Belgrade, and the slums on the outskirts of Paris.
And that one time in Gibraltar.
Shaking off the distraction, he moved closer to the alley entrance and fresher air. Eliot found a small niche behind the crumbled brick where he had a clear view of Lucky A's Pawn and Loan on the opposite corner.
Burying his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, he rested a shoulder against the apartment building wall. No telling how long he would have to wait.
"How's it look?" Nate asked from mission control. Lucille was sitting next to a used car lot half a block away just out of sight of the pawnshop.
"Quiet." Which didn't necessarily mean trouble that could just be a state of normal, but Eliot wasn't apt to let his guard down. "There hasn't been any movement in the last hour."
He had done a walk around the pawnshop just before dawn broke, examining up close the various entrances and exits. It was important to know what the alley behind the building and the attached row of shops looked like and where it let out. There was also an opening about midway down the alley. A few fenced-in back lots. Details that might be important later.
The front door, decorated with the same iron bars as the sparse windows, opened and a man stepped out. He looked about and then headed down sidewalk along the row of rundown shops.
Eliot shrugged into the warmth of his hoodie and jacket, pulling the grey fleece hood lower over his face. He waited until the man was far enough down the block before reporting. "Lunch time."
"What a lovely neighborhood," Sophie said as she pulled her silver car into one of the spaces in front of the pawnshop. She glanced about before putting the car in park and cutting the engine. While she wasn't alone, and this was hardly the worst neighborhood she had been in, her thoughts returned to the friendly caregiver. Marisa was out of her element and showed an incredible amount of determination and bravery to go investigating lost items in a place like this.
Perhaps it was just naïveté and dumb luck. The grifter had stumbled into her share of situations that she still didn't know how she escaped with her life.
From the passenger side seat, she grabbed an oversized purse that glowed a garish pink with big, white polka dots and dragged it out of the car with her. Taking a moment to adjust her sunglasses and flip back her loose hair, she composed herself before crossing the sidewalk to the shop door.
A part of her wondered if the heavy protective bars that decorated the door and windows were to keep people out or in. Seemed rather uninviting.
Opening the door to a loud chime, she marched into the brightly lit shop. Dropping her hand behind her, she pressed a tiny camera next to a torn poster half-secured to the wall. The bright colors of her dress were sharp under the fluorescent lighting. The showroom was a lot smaller than she expected after having given the building exterior a thorough look over when she arrived.
A few steps in, she paused to push her sunglasses up on her head and adjusted her blouse to make sure the tiny button camera she wore was in position. Spying a man standing in a doorway behind a row of glass counters, she gave him a warm smile and headed straight for the jewelry counter.
"Go, Parker," Nate's voice carried over the in-ear communications.
"Maybe you can help a distressed damsel out." Her buttery words drew the man's undivided attention. Tears welled in her eyes on command threatening to send her cheap mascara running. "Can you believe it? My maid of honor. She was my best friend!" She sputtered as she leaned against the counter and took a good look at the contents of the jewelry case. "I should have known you couldn't trust a used car salesman."
"Sounds like a real bastard," the grey bearded man said. "What can I do for you?" A beat. "Miss?"
"Lydia," she said offering him her hand. Sophie recognized him from the intelligence Hardison had gathered as Alan Cobb, owner of Lucky A's Pawn and Loan. His business partner, Felix Gerhardt, had just left on a walkabout.
Ignoring the raking look that Cobb gave her. She dropped her heavy purse onto the scratched counter abutting the jewelry case and screeched, "Two days! Can you believe that?" She shook her head dramatically, and then clutched the antique silver and diamond ring she wore and pulled it off as if disgusted with the sight of it. The ring clattered and clang as it bounced across the countertop. "Barry insisted that I give it back to him."
Cobb silently picked up the ring. Grabbing a jeweler's glass, he studied the magnified cluster of small stones. "I can't believe someone would cheat on such a classy gal like you."
Sophie leaned into the counter and laughed. "Shocking, isn't it?" She shifted to catch the corner of the display counter. A little sniffle escaped her. "I thought he was the one."
"We need the left side of the counter. Your left. No. Wait. That's good," Hardison said in her ear.
"Might as well give him a show," Sophie whispered as she leaned a little further forward, giving Cobb a good, unobstructed view down her low-buttoned blouse. "How much will you give me for it? The ring belonged to Barry's grandmother. It's been in his family for generations." At least, that's what that gentleman in Montreal told her. Speaking in the even tone of a woman scorned, "He should have thought about that before cheating on me."