The motel parking lot was empty. On a Thursday night, miles from the city limits, the Champagne Springs was as lively as a cemetery. Paulsen waited outside, limp cigarette dangling from his mouth. He wanted this to be over.

“It’ll take as long as it’ll take.” The Spaniard said. He was Paulsen’s employer. He had the uncanny ability to seemingly reply to his thoughts.

Paulsen rolled his eyes. “How much did you say this thing was worth?”

“A million.” He purred.

“And our cut for recovering it?”

“Ten thousand. Each.”

Headlights cruised toward them, cutting through the dark that surrounded the motel.

“That should be her, time to get inside.”

“Inside, outside, what does it matter?” The Spaniard laughed.

“Look, you chose me. I assume it was for a reason.”

“Certainly-” The Spaniard’s eyes glittered for a moment. “-I bow to your experience.”

The two men drifted into the room that Paulsen had rented for tonight’s rendezvous. The wait was almost over.

Cocking his head, the Spaniard murmured, “Indeed.”