The next morning, inside the hotel suite.
Ms. Perkins was meticulously inspecting the arsenal Hunter had brought her. Unlike some assassins who stubbornly clung to a single signature weapon, Perkins was pragmatic. She cared only about how a gun felt in her hands and how efficiently it could kill.
"Not bad at all."
Overall, Perkins was highly satisfied with the hardware Hunter had provided from his private cache.
On the nearby sofa, Hunter was mindlessly clicking through a digital card game on his laptop.
"We have been in Sin City for two days now," he said casually. "And you still haven't told me who your target is."
Perkins snapped a fresh magazine into a pistol, set it in its case, and slid off the bed.
She was wearing a sheer silk nightgown that left almost nothing to the imagination. Standing over five foot eleven, her supermodel-like figure was on full display.
Neither of them cared about the casual nudity. Perkins used her body as a weapon just as often as a gun, and Hunter was more than accustomed to the view.
Perkins walked over to him. Seeing him grinding away at a digital poker game, she clicked her tongue.
"Do you men really love gambling that much?"
"Why not go down to the casino floor and play for real?"
"It is a lot more thrilling than staring at a screen."
Hunter did not bother telling her that he had already visited the Bellagio the previous afternoon. He omitted the part where he nearly tore down one of Vegas's biggest casinos and crippled an entire security team.
He kept his eyes on the screen, grinding out the pitiful experience points for his [Gambling] skill.
"Let's focus on the job," Hunter replied smoothly. "Give me the target's name."
"We can figure out how to celebrate after the body drops."
"You are such a bore."
Perkins rolled her eyes but walked around behind his chair. She leaned over his shoulder, deliberately pressing her heavy, considerable assets against the back of his head.
"My contract is a hit on one of the biggest casino moguls in Las Vegas," she whispered.
"His name is Vera Zelvisky. Russian descent."
Hunter finally stopped clicking and looked up.
Completely ignoring the soft pressure against the back of his head, he asked, "Exactly how many 'casino moguls' are there in Vegas?"
"I took a walk yesterday afternoon and heard about several different kings of the Strip."
Perkins laughed. "Do you know why Las Vegas is called the gambling capital of the world?"
Hunter remained silent, letting her explain.
Rarely getting the chance to lecture him, Perkins smiled in satisfaction. "As the largest and most famous gambling hub on the planet, Vegas is home to hundreds of casinos, big and small."
"Over twenty million tourists flock here every year from across the globe, burning through mountains of cash."
"With that kind of money flowing, the underworld would never let one or two people monopolize the entire city."
"From what I know, there are at least forty different families and syndicates that have been running casinos here for over two decades."
"That is not even counting the minor players who only own one or two joints."
"But when people talk about 'casino moguls' in this city, they are referring to the shot-callers who control the seventeen largest mega-casinos."
"According to my intel, those seventeen properties are divided among eleven major power players."
"Vera Zelvisky is one of them."
Hunter nodded, the chaotic hierarchy of the cinematic underworld suddenly making sense. He waited for her to continue.
After leaning over for a while, Perkins shifted. She walked around the sofa and sat down right next to him.
"Zelvisky's family immigrated to the States nearly a century ago."
"They were supposedly Russian nobility during the Tsarist era. When the red flag went up over the Soviet Union, families like his fled the country."
"Most stayed in Europe, but Zelvisky's ancestors crossed the Atlantic."
"Intel suggests that on top of their legitimate casino empire, they have deep, historic ties to the Bratva and the mob."
"Vera Zelvisky only spends a few months out of the year in Vegas. The rest of his time is split between Seattle and New York."
"While he is here, he stays in a downtown apartment building. He bought out the top three floors and completely gutted them."
"It is a fortress. Private gym, rooftop garden, swimming pool, theater, bar, and a permanent detail of at least ten heavily armed bodyguards."
Hunter listened intently. When she finished, he asked one question.
"What is the name of the building?"
"The Charles Building," Perkins replied.
"I haven't been able to secure the architectural blueprints for his custom renovations. Breaking in is going to be a bloodbath."
Hunter nodded slowly. Assassinating an apex predator in Las Vegas was never going to be simple.
After a moment of calculation, he laid out the plan. "We split up."
"You hit the streets and see if you can source those blueprints for the Charles Building."
"Focus on getting the schematics for those top three floors."
"I will scout the perimeter. I want to check the sightlines from the neighboring rooftops to see if we can just take his head off with a sniper rifle."
While speaking, Hunter closed his laptop.
He pulled out his phone and typed Vera Zelvisky's name into a secure search engine.
A few news articles populated the screen.
After scrolling through a few society pages, Hunter locked onto a photograph of their target.
Zelvisky was a massive, heavily built Russian man with a thick beard. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, though the heavy facial hair made it hard to pinpoint an exact age.
"That is him," Perkins confirmed, leaning over to look at the screen.
She did not question Hunter taking the lead and issuing orders.
Despite being a fiercely independent and notoriously selfish assassin, Perkins had changed.
She couldn't explain it, but the longer she stayed around Hunter, the more she trusted his lethal competence. She found herself relying on him more than she ever intended.
That was exactly why she had called him in to help with a contract this dangerous.
"Alright. I will start digging for the Charles Building schematics," she agreed.
"We rendezvous tonight to finalize the strike plan."
"Understood," Hunter replied.
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