cut off my dick and make me eat it.â
âChoke on it,â Kitra said. âSwallowing would have been your choice.â
Haddad returned to Mike, eyes watering. Snot ran down the side of his face in fat, stringy globs. Not such a tough guy after all.
âI have a wife and child,â he said.
Mike shrugged. âYou didnât seem to care if I had a wife and child, did you?â
Haddad didnât reply.
âIâm going to ask you one question. Just one. You answer it truthfully, Iâll let you live. Understand?â
âI do not believe you.â
Mike laughed. âI donât give a shit what you believe. Iâm telling you how it is. Give me the truth and youâll live. Understand?â
Haddad nodded.
âThere was a man here earlier. Very well-Âkept. Nicely trimmed beard. Perfect teeth. Expensive clothes. He seemed to be the man in charge around here. Who is he?â
âHe will kill me.â
âMotherfucker, Iâm going to kill you if you donât give me his name. Now spit it out.â
âYou will let me live?â
âYes.â
âAnd your friends will let me live?â
Mike glanced at Kitra, who gave a slight nod. âYes.â
âForgive me.â Haddad took a deep breath and closed his eyes. âKharija bin Al-ÂAswad.â
âLook me in the eyes,â Mike said.
Haddad opened his eyes and focused on Mikeâs.
âTell me again. Who is he?â
Haddad didnât hesitate. Didnât blink. His face never twitched. He didnât lick his lips. In a flat voice he said, âKharija bin Al-ÂAswad.â
Not lying, Mike thought. At least, as far as Haddad knew. It might not be the guyâs real name, but to Haddad it sure as hell was.
âWhere did he go?â Mike asked.
âYou said one question.â
âI lied.â
âI do not know. He comes and goes. I am not high enough in our order to have that kind of information.â
Order? It was the first heâd heard the term applied to the guardians. It seemed an appropriate word. But for some reason it also gave him the creeps.
Mike moved away from the table. âHow often do your Âpeople come by here?â
âThere will be a transport arriving this evening. They had orders to move you after your . . . operation.â
âReally? Where to?â
âI do not know. It involved a flight but I do not know the destination.â
Mike nodded. âWell, when they get here theyâll find you and free you. In the meantime, youâll stay strapped down.â
âYou said you would let me live.â
âAnd I am. I never said anything about freeing you.â
Kitra and her men left the room without saying anything. As Mike followed them, Haddad called after him, âWhat am I supposed to do until my Âpeople arrive?â
âPonder your life.â
Outside, the team loaded into the Land Rover. Before Mike could climb in, however, Kitra pulled him aside. âYou think this is wise, leaving him alive?â
Mike shrugged. âProbably not. But I gave him my word. And Iâm trying to avoid killing Âpeople if I can at this point in my life.â
Kitra chuckled. âNot kill anyone? Interesting choice of careers, then. You Americans . . .â
Mike got in the backseat and the car sped off toward An Nasiriyah. His left arm, secured by a makeshift sling, throbbed. He needed more pain meds. Now. For the second time that day he wished for his flask.
Focus on the job.
As he rode, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Glenn Cheatum.
K harija sat in the Gulfstream-ÂV, looking out the window as the plane passed above the desert of northern Iraq en route to Beirut, and pieced his explanation together. His defense. His excuse. He rehearsed his speech over and over in his head but it never sounded right, no matter how many times he went through it. Plain and simple, he had lost