Lars followed them the entire way through the city.
Traffic lights reflected off the wet asphalt, and the gray winter sky pressed low over Munich. The woman's car finally slowed in front of an elegant restaurant tucked between two historic stone buildings. A discreet golden sign hung above the entrance, and warm light spilled from large windows framed with dark wood. Inside, crystal chandeliers glowed softly over neatly arranged tables dressed in white linen.
They turned into the restaurant's private underground parking.
Lars couldn't risk entering without drawing attention, so he parked across the street near a row of leafless trees and a closed flower shop. From there, he lost sight of them.
He removed his hat and scarf. The heater inside the vehicle had already chased away the cold. The faint scent of leather and engine warmth filled the interior as he leaned back slightly in the seat.
While waiting, his main phone vibrated.
It was Amelia.
