Knight chewed as he talked, gesturing with his chopsticks. “Who I am isn’t important. What matters is that I know you’re supplying rhino horn to the triads. That’s a serious offense here.”

The trafficker didn’t dance around the issue. “What agency do you work for?”

Sensing that he had the guy on his heels, Knight ignored his question. “What do you think would happen if I tested the DNA for the horn you’re putting on the market?”

The stranger hesitated, then spoke under his breath. “You’d find it’s genuine white rhino.”

“I don’t mean what species. I mean, what if I ran it against the database of poached rhino DNA in Pretoria?”

Knight could see the Afrikaner’s poker face crack as he laid that ace on the table. Because so few rhinos remained at Kruger Park, every time an animal was poached, the rangers sent the DNA to Dr. Klesser’s Veterinary Genetics Lab in Pretoria. If Kruger horn turned up on the black market, the lab could trace it to the exact animal it was taken from.

Knight answered his own question. “What I’d learn is that all those horns you’re selling came from the confiscated stash at Kruger Park. Not a single horn you are selling required you or your suppliers to kill even a single rhino. Which either makes you a crafty thief, or you’re running some game to save animals—which, based on your vegan dietary preferences, would be the logical conclusion.”

When Knight sent the horn powder samples to Lara’s lab, he had hoped to find out which rhinos the South African had been poaching and use it to blackmail him for info on Wan Koi’s operation. Knight had assumed the rhinos were poached on one of South Africa’s many private hunting reserves, but was instead shocked to learn that the horn was from animals that not only were killed at Kruger, but whose horns had been recovered by park rangers before ending up on the black market.

The Afrikaner scanned the room, as if half suspecting some sort of takedown to happen right here and now. He returned his attention to Knight, clearly having had enough of his smug demeanor.

“Cut the shit. Who are you?”

“Relax,” Knight said. “Your business is your business. As long as you help me with my business, I’m happy to keep a secret.”

“And what is your business?”

“Insurance. When animals die, I lose money.”

The South African guffawed at the revelation. “A fucking insurance guy.”

“We’re both trying to save animals.”

“You’re cashing in on them just like the syndicates.”

“You have no idea who I am,” Knight said, resenting the comparison.

As Knight’s words hung in the air, a waiter approached. Knight turned and said, “I’ll have two more orders of bluefin.”

The South African shook his head in disgust. “You know bluefin is endangered, right?”