watch everyone he talks to and then nail them."
"But they'll kill him. I told you that. He's on the run."
"Tough shit. If they kill him, then we can at least see who's pulling the trigger."
Ferris looked through the window at Nizar, who was standing outside in the sun. There was a hint of a smile on his face. He thought he was going to be delivered into the protection of the Americans.
"I don't feel good about this, Ed. I feel we're doing this thing wrong. It's my case. Let me develop it."
"Sorry. No can do. Debrief him now. Get everything you can, in case he does get nailed. But cut him loose today when you're done. We'll watch him for a while and then bring him in. I hate to be a prick, but that's the way we're going to run it."
"Christ." Ferris put the phone aside for a moment. There was no point arguing the case, not with Hoffman. "Can I promise him money and resettlement, at least?"
"Sure. No problem. Whatever you like." Hoffman didn't even ask how much Ferris would be offering. He knew he would never have to pay it off.
F ERRIS SAT Nizar down in the house again and said he had a few more questions. The Iraqi was in a good mood now, relaxing, decompressing, imagining that his part of the nightmare would be over soon. Ferris had a little digital tape recorder going now, to capture the debrief. He asked Nizar for the names of his contacts in Al Qaeda in Iraq. He asked for the locations where he met with the members of his cell. He asked how he had been recruited, and the Iraqi explained that it had been in Amman--at a safe house near Jebel Al-Akhthar, on the southern edge of the city. He recited the address and Ferris wrote it down carefully in his notebook. If they could monitor the Amman safe house, maybe they could take down an entire network. Ferris asked for the SIM card of his cell phone, and Nizar handed that over, too.
The little Iraqi talked on for several hours. Ferris sent Bassam out to get some food, and he came back with some kebabs and Heineken beer brewed in Egypt, which Nizar devoured. It was midafternoon before they finished. Ferris was getting nervous that they had been at Bassam's uncle's house for so long. People in the neighborhood would know and tell others. When night fell, it would be dangerous for them here.
When Ferris had finished all of his questions, Nizar looked at him attentively.
"We are ready to go to Green Zone now, sir?" he asked.
"Not yet, Nizar." Immediately the Iraqi's hopeful smile dissolved. "It will take my friends a little while to arrange your departure from Iraq. In the meantime, you should go about your business. Be careful. Don't panic. Everything will be okay."
"But sir, they will kill me. I tell you that when we first talk."
"They won't kill you. We will be watching you and protecting you. We have big eyes and ears."
Nizar was shaking his head. "Sir, I am sorry, but you cannot protect anyone. Not even yourselves. How you protect me?"
"We will take care of you. Your friend Bassam will be close. But he cannot stay with you. Neither can I. Until we come to take you out, you have to take care of yourself."
The Iraqi made a low moan. He had given everything and gotten nothing. Ferris couldn't leave him like that. In his depression, he would wander into a trap and be dead before sundown.
"I am going to open a bank account for you now in America. Is that all right?
Nizar's eyes brightened slightly. "Yes, sir. How much please?"
"At first, a hundred thousand dollars. Plus we will resettle you and your wife and kids in America."
Now the Iraqi was really perking up. "One million, please. I do not have a wife."
Jesus, thought Ferris. A moment ago he was a goner, and now he's dickering over money. "We'll see about the million dollars. Right now I want to talk about how you're going to stay safe." He called over Bassam, and they talked through the security procedures Nizar would adopt over the next week. Ferris gave him a new cell phone to use in emergencies. The