I touched the cellphone inside my jacket.
For a moment, I considered walking back in, taking off the beard, and firing every one of them.
But if I confronted them now, the device would be in a drawer in thirty seconds.
So I walked around to the alley, and I sat down on an overturned milk crate beside the dumpster.
The back door opened a minute later.
It was Rolando.
He stood in the doorway in his stained apron and said nothing for a long moment.
Then he came down the step and crouched beside me, with his hands hanging between his knees.
“You saw it,” he said.
“I saw it.”
“What is it?”
“A skimmer,” said Rolando.
“Krista runs it on every customer over seventy.”
“She calls it the extra napkin.”
“Hunter set it up in March.”
“His cousin Zane comes in every Friday at two to ‘service the terminals’.”
