"Yes, you will. Though I'm still not sure why you came here. You said you needed my help?"
He nodded and bit his lower lip. "I'm off the grid right now. Nobody is more on the grid than you. I have a pre-paid phone I picked up in Tatvan, but it has limitations."
"Would you just spit it out, Dak? You never used to beat around the bush before."
"Sorry. You're right. I need you to find someone for me." The glare in her eyes pushed him to elaborate. "His name is Will Collins. Last I saw him, he was in South Carolina, based out of Greenville."
"And what's so special about this friend of yours?"
Dak considered telling her the truth, that Will was a former military guy who made a living selling guns. Most of the time his business was legal, by the book, but Dak knew Will understood how to circumvent certain channels. Word on the street was that Will made a bunch of money in a short amount of time and dropped off the map, sold his company, and moved abroad. There was a chance he wouldn't be able to help Dak with his current predicament, but something told him Will would still have at least one hand in a shady cookie jar. Dak hoped it was the one he needed.
"Will knows how to get things and how to make things. One of those things is a new passport. He can get me the paperwork I need to start over." Dak blunted the truth. He needed new ID, papers, passport, all of that, but not to start over as a bartender somewhere in Europe. He had one goal in mind—to find his old team and eliminate them, one by one.
Nicole crossed her arms and tapped the right bicep with her index finger, as if trying to determine if he was telling the truth. That was one thing she'd always appreciated about Dak; he never lied to her. Not once. Right now, that honesty was probably the only reason she would consider helping him.
"Okay," she relented with a passing hand. "I'll help you locate your friend."
"Thank you," he gasped. "The minute you do, I'll be out of your hair."
Her body slumped slightly, almost as if disappointment and gravity shared a common bond. She quickly realized what she'd done and stiffened. "Do you need money?"
"I have a little."
She rolled her eyes and strolled over to the kitchen counter where a cedar cigar box sat in the corner. She flipped open the lid and took out a wad of euros, counted several bills on out onto the counter, then stuffed the rest back in the box.
Nicole picked up the money, padded back over to him, and held it out.
"I'm not taking your money, Nicky," he said. "I appreciate it, though. I'll be fine."
"If you didn't need it, you would have stopped me from counting it out. Take it. That should get you anywhere you need to go in Europe. Buy a train ticket. That's the best way to travel here."
He knew that, but didn't say so. "Thank you. I'll pay you back."
"Please," she said. "That's spare change I keep lying around the house. I almost never use cash, but it doesn't hurt to have it."
"I guess not." He lowered his head again, feeling ashamed for taking anything from her.
"As to your friend, I may be able to help you, but not until you get a shower." She looked at him like he had toxic waste dripping off his shoulders. "Leave your clothes in a bag and I'll wash them."
"You don't have to—"
"No, I really think I do, Dak."
The disgusted scowl on her face said it all. He chuckled. "Okay. I'll take a shower while you look for Will."
Four
Ramstein-Miesenbach, Germany
Yellow lights illuminated the dark green umbrellas hanging over the tables of the Forsthaus Beckenhof biergarten. The place would normally be packed with locals drinking tankards of beer and reveling in laughter, or philosophical conversations that would undoubtedly save the world.
This night, however, the giant patio was as a graveyard, silent and secretive.
Bo looked over the area for the twentieth time. They arrived early to scout the rendezvous point and choose positions for the rest of his team. Billy watched over his shoulder from a bell tower at the end of the street. Carson took his watch from a window above a bakery across the street. Nathan held a position in a thicket of shrubs near the back end of the biergarten. He was the closest if things took a dicey turn, and he could also cut off an escape down that end of the street. Luis was opposite him, directly behind Bo in the car they'd rented. His job was to be ready to cut off an enemy retreat if they took off that way.
Bo didn't think that was going to happen. His contact was a good businessman and he wouldn't risk a short-term gain for a long-term loss, although people's ability to do stupid or erratic things never ceased to surprise Bo. It was the one consistent element of humanity; they were full of surprises. Knowing that, Bo took precautions.
He stepped under the white, ivy-covered archway, topped with a sign that read "biergarten", and continued into the sitting area. Bo had seen many similar establishments in this country, and he often wondered why there weren't more like it back in the States. He briefly considered opening one, then remembered he probably wasn't going to end up in the US.
Carson was planning ongoing to Miami. The man loved white sand and azure water, and the endless warmth. Bo had joked with him about the sand; after all, they'd spent a sizable chunk of their tour in deserts.
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 edge to his tone. "You haven't seen the goods."
"Yes, well, let's just say I know a good buy when I see one. This case contains five million. I hope you don't mind, I took the trouble of bringing American dollars for your convenience."
"Five million," Bo said, trying to sound unimpressed. His heart pounded. That was a million dollars a man. More than enough to jump-start his new life.
"Yes," the German confirmed. "There are four more cases just like it in the car."
"Four more?" Bo blurted. It was rare for him to be thrown off his game, but he found himself nearly gasping for air. He quickly recovered, steeling his excitement into a hardened exterior. With a clenched jaw, he asked, "So, your offer is twenty-five?"
"Correct."
"And you haven't seen the product."
"As I said, I know a good buy when I see one. And I've seen enough. I trust my offer is adequate."
Bo's head slowly nodded. "Yes. Adequate."
"So, we have a deal?"
Bo smirked. "Absolutely, old friend. Pleasure doing business with you."
He stood and extended his hand toward the German. The man took it as he stood and then pushed the case toward Bo.
He turned to one of the guards and ordered him and the others to bring the four additional briefcases, speaking in German as he issued the command.
The two guards in the middle of the biergarten immediately stepped to the center of the room and trotted out of the patio to retrieve the items.
"Bring the goods," Bo said into his radio.
The car up the street revved to life, and within a minute, Luis swung around to the entrance of the biergarten.
The German looked back over his shoulder at the sound of the vehicle's engine and the tires grinding on the asphalt. "Didn't trust me?" the man asked.
"No, it's not that," Bo confessed. "It's just easier to transport that way."
The businessman didn't let on that he believed or disbelieved the explanation. "Let's have a look then, shall we?"
"After you," Bo said, extending a hand toward the aisle as he stood.
The two men walked back to the front of the biergarten and through the archway. Luis stood outside the car with his hands over his waist, doing his best to look professional. The truth was, Luis was ten times the pro compared to the German's guards.
"Luis, the trunk, please," Bo said.
Luis nodded and reached into the car. He pressed a button near the bottom of the seat and the trunk popped open.
Bo took a step closer and eased the trunk's lid up. Sitting atop the carpeted interior were five gear bags.
"Please inspect them as much as you like," Bo offered. "For the price you're paying, you can roll around in it for all I care."
The German grunted a laugh and moved toward the trunk. He unzipped the first bag and ran his fingers over a collection of necklaces, gems, and golden coins. He repeated the search with the second and third bags. When he came to the fourth bag, though, he stopped midway through his sifting when he found a large, unusual gem.
He pulled it out and held it up to the streetlight. The ruby was the size of his fist, but it had been cut in a way unlike anything Bo had ever seen before. He'd thought as much when he retrieved the jewel from the cave.
The ruby had the same conical shape as most, with beveled edges and a flattened top, but in the center of the top portion, it had been bored out to mirror the shape of the bottom.
Bo hoped that wouldn't lower the value of the gem, but he figured the rest of the collection would still fetch a generous price. He would never have imagined twenty-five million, though.
He watched as the German inspected the jewel, unwilling to comment despite the rush of defensive thoughts intruding into his mind.
"A most unusual piece," the German said, still analyzing the gem in the streetlight. "Incredible."
Bo hid his relief at the man's comment. "Yes. I'm not an expert in precious stones, but I've never seen anything quite like it."
The German drew a breath. "I imagine you haven't."
Was that derision in his voice? Bo wasn't sure, and he couldn't imagine why there would be. "So, it's good?" Bo asked, trying not to sound insecure.
"It's perfect." The German gently set the stone back into the bag and zipped it closed. He motioned to two of the guards nearby. The men immediately rushed to the trunk and lifted the four bags out, one in each hand, then carried them over to the convoy to begin loading.
The German swiveled and extended his hand to Bo. "I have to say, Mr. Taylor, this has been one of the easiest negotiations I've ever been a part of. I wish they were all this way." He twirled a finger around in the air and two other guards produced four matching briefcases. The men walked over to where Bo was standing and set them down at his feet.
"The feeling is mutual," Bo said. "Pleasure doing business with you."
"The same."
The German walked away, stalking toward his sedan. Bo kept his eyes open and his hands ready, just in case the businessman issued an order to kill. That command never came. Instead, the German climbed into the open back door of his car and slammed it shut while the guards finished stowing the bags into the trunk of the middle car.
With the bags secure and the guards back in the vehicles, the convoy drove off and disappeared around the corner, leaving nothing but the fading sounds of their engines groaning in the night.
&
nbsp; Bo nodded and looked down at the four briefcases at his feet and the one in his hands.
He had more than enough money to disappear now. The whole team did.
"Mission accomplished, gentlemen," Bo said into his radio. "Time for us to begin our new lives."
He pulled out the radio earpiece and let it dangle on his neck amid a series of shouts and joyful hollers.
Bo felt their emotions, but he also felt the tug of paranoia. After all, Dak Harper was still out there somewhere. And while that man had air in his lungs, there were few safe places to hide.
Five
Istanbul
Dak stood in the shower for an eternity, letting the hot water soak over his tired muscles. The soothing warmth reached deep into his bones and gave him a sense of relief he hadn't felt in days, though it seemed much longer. When he finished, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel from off the nearby rack, dried himself off, and tied it around his waist.
He padded over to the mirror and slicked his hair back, then used a hand towel to finish drying his beard.
While he stood there at the sink, a knock came from the door. "You decent?" Nicole asked, cracking the door open an inch.
"Yeah, I have a towel on," he said.
She pushed it all the way open and stepped in. Nicole caught herself accidentally appreciating the man's form, the broad shoulders and back, the muscles in his arms and chest.
"My eyes are up here," Dak joked, motioning to his face.
She shook her head quickly and recovered. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But your clothes will be dry in a half hour."
"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Any luck finding my friend Will?"
"Actually, yes. Turns out he wasn't that difficult to locate."
"That's a bit of a surprise," Dak said as he turned around to face her, planting his palms on the edge of the sink as he leaned back.
Again, she caught herself admiring his form, but he said nothing this time.
"Yes, well. It surprised me too, since you seemed to think it would be much more difficult. If your friend is trying to keep a low profile, he's not doing a very good job of it."
The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set Page 8