The bad news was that one of the Australian’s wild shots had struck Carl Verbeek in the chest. The heavyset security contractor now sat hunched over with hollow eyes. And with him, their best lead had just died.

The three of them stood around the bound woman. Her head hung low, and her eyes studied the floor. Blood-spatter covered her face and arms and clung to her like a scarlet letter. Tears filled her eyes.

Carter pulled up a chair and spoke to her in his calm fatherly voice. “According to Nic here, your friend was about to kill you. Do you know why?”

“No,” she said.

“Nic overheard a phone conversation that mentioned trusting Kruger and ended with the order to eliminate you and Mr. Verbeek. Does that mean something to you?”

“Yeah, it means quite a bit.”

“Would you like to tell us who you are?”

“Constable Isabel Price, South African Police Services.”

Nic wasn’t expecting that answer. He had pegged her as an assassin or merc, maybe one who had screwed up or had a personal vendetta. But definitely not a fellow law officer.

“What is a cop from South Africa doing here torturing a US citizen?” he said.

“He had information. At least, I hoped he did.”

“Information on what?”

“Where to find Kruger.”

“And who is Kruger?” Nic asked.

She raised her eyes from the floor. “He’s the guy who robbed that GoBox building. A seven-foot boogeyman who is also responsible for the deaths of over 300 South Africans. You asked why a cop would be torturing this man. I’d do anything to put an end to Kruger.”

“Are you referring to the squatter camp massacre?” Burke said.

“Yes.”

“And you were the investigating officer?”

“In a way. I lost someone in the massacre.”

Burke twirled his dirty blond hair as his eyes narrowed. “Do you have any pictures of the victims?”

Both Nic and Carter twisted their necks toward the doctor with looks of confusion. “It’s relevant,” Burke quickly added.

The woman nodded toward a computer bag in the corner. Burke retrieved it and booted an old IBM laptop he found inside. She gave him the directory, and he pulled up the photos and started scanning through them.

Burke’s face showed no reaction, no emotion, as he scrolled through the grisly images. Nic looked over his shoulder and had to quickly look away. The bodies were missing their hands, heads, and feet.

Then Burke actually smiled at the gruesome photos. “This makes sense,” he said

“How does the brutal murder of an entire village make sense?” Isabel asked.

Burke showed them a few of the photos and said, “See here. They removed the limbs and heads so that the actual cause of death wouldn’t be evident. But you can see the petechiae here on the chest and torsos. Were autopsies and full tox screens done on these bodies?”

Isabel laughed. “They were 300 homeless white people in South Africa. I had to fight to keep them from all being thrown into a mass grave.”