He saw Kianga in little pink pajamas covered with the faces of kittens as they played hide-and-seek inside their sprawling compound, which was strangely close to the spot where he and Zarina had been rescued as children. Why he would ever want to live so close to that place, he had no idea. But it was home, and all he wanted in that moment was to get back in the van and return to the curly-haired girl in the pink pajamas.

A strange longing swept over him, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he was a good father. He certainly provided for his family. Kianga wanted for nothing. She attended the best schools, and he had hidden away enough money to protect and care for her for the rest of her life. He loved her and had made sure that she knew it. But was that enough?

Wiping away the tears, he internally screamed at himself. What was he doing? He had never given thought to Kianga while on a mission. Her father was Idris, the man who tucked her in and kissed her forehead and knew all of her little tickle spots. Her father was not Kruger, and so Kruger didn’t think about her. But with the lines blurred, he had lost his center and was adrift in a sea of uncertainty and doubt.

Despite any trepidation, he had to keep up his act for a bit longer. Whatever was left of Kruger would have to prop Idris up long enough to do what was necessary.

He looked to Sparks and the Doc, who were readying themselves on the other side of the van. His assigned code name for the mission was Mr. K. His wife enjoyed assigning the code names, and he enjoyed indulging her.

Although he had never pulled a job with either of these people, he wasn’t concerned. The Doc had specialized knowledge, and Sparks—a thirty-something American nobody named Lamar Franklin whom he had recruited as extra muscle—would serve his purposes perfectly as well.

Kruger had mapped out every element of the plan; every foreseeable circumstance had been accounted for. Although, he had been around the block enough times to know that unforeseeable obstacles would arise. When that happened, he would crush them. Not out of anger or insanity or bloodlust. In truth, he was indifferent about hurting people, or at least he used to be. But the mission always came first. That was how he succeeded where other men failed. Because there was nothing he wouldn’t do for money.

At least, that’s what he had always believed. He had never been haunted by things he had done, until now.

He gave a nod of approval to Sparks and the Doc. It was time. They had already received confirmation that the manager was on the premises, and the collateral damage and number of probable hostages was at a manageable level, which meant no families.

They had positioned the van out of range of all the cameras, but once they stepped another five feet toward the doors of the private vault company, they would be leaving a digital record for the police to follow later. They were ready for this. Each of them pulled down a ski mask and moved toward the entrance.