Nathan hadn't been as forthright about where he was going. Bo was actually good with not knowing. Luis claimed he had friends in Mexico and he might go there. Billy had his sights set on a farm in Montana.
Bo surveyed the street to his right through the white fence that surrounded the biergarten. It too was wrapped in dark green ivy. No cars drove by, and he'd only seen three since arriving half an hour before. There would be fewer as the night wore on. Somewhere in the village, from around the corner opposite the drinking hall, a young woman's voice cackled in the night. A friend or lover must have said something funny. Or maybe she was just drunk and everything was funny.
An owl hooted from one of the trees behind the Forsthaus Beckenhof building.
The breeze still and cool, tickled Bo's ears.
His senses were always high for something like this. It wasn't a mission, but he treated it as such. That kept him sharp, made certain he didn't get sloppy and make mistakes.
Bo strolled through the main aisle to the back of the patio and found a table in the corner where the only thing to his back was the fence, the corner of the building, and Nathan Collier with a Sig Saur 9mm XM17. Just because he didn't fully trust the psychotic Collier, didn't mean the maniac didn't have his uses.
"In position," Bo said into his radio.
No one responded per his orders. They were only to report on their positions and any suspicious activity they might witness. So far, nothing had been said.
Within forty seconds of finding his seat, Bo noticed headlights coming down the avenue next to the biergarten. The sound of tires on asphalt and moaning engines signaled the arrival of the German's entourage.
Bo noted the three BMW 8 Series Gran Coupes as they passed by. The three black sedans ground to a quick halt and doors opened, releasing men in dark suits and ties. They hurried to secure the area around the vehicles, each looking out across the dimly lit streets and yards. One of the men gave a curt nod, and another flung open the back door to the middle sedan. A tall gentleman stepped out. He wore a navy blue suit with a black tie and white pinstripes. His thick, blond hair swept over his left eyebrow. Calculating blue eyes the color of an iceberg scanned the scene, doing his best to imitate the security team.
Bo watched the parade with smug disapproval. Amateurs, he thought. Not everyone in the private security game was incompetent. He knew several companies that ran more than adequate outfits. This group, however, looked the part. They acted the part. But they were clueless. Bo's team wasn't invisible. Collier was pretty close. A good unit would have noticed Luis in the car up the block, but these guys didn't seem to even notice the occupied vehicle. Billy was mostly out of sight, though the silhouette of a human head and shoulder protruding from the side of the giant bell should have been a dead giveaway. Carson's window blinds were closed except for one or two in the middle, a clear sign someone was looking out. Bo would have to have a chat with his team. Then again, why bother? After this, they were going their separate ways.
The first two guards appeared in the archway and stepped inside, each checking their respective corners before moving down the aisles toward the end of the patio where Bo waited.
The contact appeared with two more guards at the archway. The man smoothed his suit jacket and inclined his chin, then strolled into the biergarten with his shoulders broad and head held high.
The two guards on either side of him split off and took up positions in the center of the patio while the last two protected the exit.
The entire show made Bo want to laugh, but he didn't dare.
The black briefcase in his hand barely swung as he strode through the biergarten. The contact stopped abruptly at the head of the table, assessing his seller the way a shrewd businessman would. His tanned skin betrayed many days on beaches or yachts. Though, Bo didn't sense the man was soft.
"Please have a seat," Bo said.
"Thank you," the man said and pulled out one of the white chairs circling the matching table. His accent was blunted, a sign he'd spent many years abroad, probably in the UK or the US, though it was still strong enough that no one would mistake him as anything but German.
"Yes, sir," Bo said.
"I hope you don't mind the venue," the German said, waving a hand around the biergarten.
"Not at all. I'm impressed you could pay them enough to shut down for an evening, although there isn't much going on in the village right now."
"Holiday," the man explained. "Many of the locals are out of town for a week or two. Those who aren't are closing down their businesses earlier than normal. This establishment's owner was more than happy to make a little extra money to allow us to have our meeting."
Bo appreciated the man's savvy. "Some money is better than no money."
"Exactly." The man raised a finger and made a dot in the air. "And while we are on the subject of money, here is yours."
He hefted the briefcase onto the table and set it down with a clunk, flipped it open and spun it around.
"This is more than enough, I believe, for what you've brought me. I assume the treasures you discovered are somewhere close by."
The German pulled open the lid to the briefcase. Bo's eyes blinked rapidly for a few seconds as he gazed at one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen in his life.
"We never even negotiated a price," Bo said with an
