“One has to take pleasure wherever it appears,” Rennell murmured. “I’ve been cheated of the joy of killing Volkov all evening, so I just had to make do…” He lowered the binoculars and turned to her. “Are you ready to go? If you’re too scared, then don’t do it. I don’t want you screwing it up.”

“I won’t screw it up. I’m not scared. It’s just a job to be done. You’re the one who would probably screw it up if you tried to plant those charges. I’m small and I can move fast and light. You’re huge and you’d probably stumble over those men.”

“I wouldn’t stumble, but I might be more visible.” He shrugged. “Then what are you waiting for? Grab the charges and get moving, bozo.”

Maria grabbed the backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m out of here. As long as these blast charges don’t go off in my hands.”

“It’s not the charges I’m worried about.”

“Volkov’s men? They won’t see me. I’ll be in and out before you know it. You’d be surprised how living with an ass like Anton can give you the skill to fade into the woodwork whenever you choose.”

“Still, keep an eye out. There’s at least eight of them on the ridges surrounding the casino. There’s only two of us.”

“I’ve no choice but to take those odds, do I?”

Rennell smiled. “No. Forgive me for stating the obvious. Good luck.”

Those last words surprised her. He was usually so noncommittal. “You, too. See you back at the car.”

Maria crouched and ran into the brush. She kept low, looking out for Volkov’s men as she made her way across the ridge. She stopped, unzipped her knapsack, and pulled out the first of the radio-controlled blast charges. It was tiny, scarcely bigger than a bottle stopper. But she knew it wasn’t meant to cause major damage, like the monstrosity Rennell had planted in the box canyon down the road. Still, it would serve their purpose.

She raised the small antenna and pushed the device into the bush. She ran and repeated the process four more times, spacing the charges about fifty feet apart. She was about to place the sixth charge when she heard a snap behind her.

She froze.

Snap.

Twigs breaking. Brush rustling.

Someone was coming!

She rolled behind a tall boulder and crouched low.

The footsteps grew louder, and she could see a man with an assault rifle making his way toward her. She recognized him as one of Volkov’s bodyguards, a red-haired man the others called Pinky.