Taz sighed and then slapped Nic on the back of his head. “You can take the kid out of New York …”

“I grew up in Jersey. And just because I chose a legitimate career, doesn’t mean I went soft.”

“I would call you a lot of things, Nic,” Taz said. “Soft isn’t one of them.”

Chapter 13

Kruger had worked hard at building a legacy of fear. His name wasn’t publicly notorious; nor would it ever be. Politicians would never denounce him and call him a terrorist or a madman. He was a shadow. An invisible force of nature that could be hired to work for your cause if the price was right.

He was Kruger.

He was not Idris Madeira.

He was Kruger.

Standing in the GoBox employee restroom, he splashed water into his face and stared at himself in the mirror.

The seconds passed, his eyes transfixed on his own reflection.

He considered the irony that he had become so good at making people fear and hate him that he had succeeded in both fearing and hating himself.

He took a deep breath and counted to ten, but he still couldn’t tear his eyes off the man in the mirror. He felt his heart rate quicken, and then he couldn’t breathe. It was like Kruger was choking him, but he was Kruger, which meant that he could never escape his adversary. The cycle would just begin again.

He felt dizzy and nauseated.

He splashed more water in his face.

“Kruger,” he whispered out loud, half expecting the figure in the mirror to answer back. “I am Kruger.”

Idris Madeira tried to convince himself to put back on the mask of Kruger that had kept his sanity intact over the years. But for some reason, he could no longer separate the things that Idris had done with the things Kruger had done.

He had thought Kruger was invincible, that the ruthless mercenary had no limits. Unfortunately, he had learned of his own fallibility the hard way as the walls to the mental fortress protecting his true self crumbled and fell.

It had been one month since Kruger had entered the small squatter camp of white South Africans outside of Johannesburg. And he supposed that Kruger had never truly left. That part of him had died there with all the others, all those poor innocent souls, women and children cut down indiscriminately.

The death of Kruger was a major issue for Idris Madeira because he didn’t have a career of his own. In reality, Idris was just a lamprey riding the back of the shark. With Kruger gone, his family would starve. He needed one more job. One last job to make enough money so that Idris would never need Kruger again.

Unfortunately, the beginning of the next phase of his plan for early retirement hinged entirely on the Doc’s efforts to break into the security system, which the Doc had ensured him would not be a problem and less than an hour’s worth of work. And until the security system was completely down, the armored cameras inset into the ceilings of the secure areas would still be recording, and Kruger couldn’t have his face appearing on any recordings. That was crucial.