According to the files, not even Mobius knew Kruger’s real name, not that the information would help her much once they reached Las Vegas. Still, she wanted to put a name to her pain, not some made-up alias. Kruger always worked with a woman who never spoke and never gave her name. Other than those few details, the mercenary couple’s background was a mystery.

What Isabel did find useful was the listing of certain contacts and operations that Kruger had conducted—especially the ones that took place in Las Vegas and the United States.

“Anything interesting in there?” Christopher asked.

“You haven’t read the files?”

“I’m just a liaison. You’re the detective.”

“What do you know about the guy who is supposed to be smuggling them out of the country? This Fitzgerald.”

“I know he’s the best, and he’s also off-limits. Mr. Mobius owns a twenty-percent stake in Fitzgerald’s business.”

“What? Then why can’t he just have this Fitzgerald guy take care of Kruger when he picks them up.”

Christopher laughed. “Because that would compromise the integrity of Fitzgerald’s business, which would cost Mr. Mobius a lot of money and hurt his reputation. Fitzgerald informed us that Kruger had requested his services out of professional courtesy and respect.”

“Great. I would hate for your band of killers and thieves to do something that may violate corporate ethics.”

“You can complain about the way the world works, or you can do your best with what you have.”

Isabel wanted to punch him in his perfect, handsome face. A broken nose would look great over his smug little grin. “The file says that Kruger has completed several operations in the Las Vegas area.”

“Yes, a lot of powerful people travel to Sin City for high-stakes gambling, and it caters to those seeking excess and extravagance like very few other places in the world.”

“I really don’t care who he killed or what information he extracted from some Saudi prince. What interests me is that for each mission, he was outfitted by the same man. A former commando with the Recces,” she said, referring to the South African Special Forces Brigade.

“I know of him. Carl Verbeek. He handles private security for visiting elites, and he’s involved in several other illicit activities. Deals a lot with the cartels. I think that’s how Kruger connected to him.”

“I thought maybe they knew each other from Special Forces or worked together in South Africa or something like that.”

“To my knowledge, there’s no real history between them. Just professional respect.”

“Kruger’s used Verbeek on every operation that has come up within a hundred miles of Vegas. Sounds like they’re friends.”

Christopher chuckled. “Kruger doesn’t have friends. But I see where you’re headed. If Verbeek has done good work for him in the past, then Kruger would likely continue to use him. And if you want to get your hands on a fifty-cal or some C-4 in Vegas, Carl Verbeek is a good man to know.”

Isabel nodded, finally feeling like she was on the right trail, her hunter instincts and her cop instincts both pulling her toward Verbeek. “I assume you’ll have a car waiting for us when we hit the ground?”