He shook hands with Jakob. Since Manny knew DeShawn better he met the man with a full embrace, and used it as an opportunity to palm the Major a packet of his favorite cigarettes. DeShawn gave him a wink and a smile. Manny shook Hamid’s hand next, and then kissed him on the cheek. Hamid returned the kiss, clapped him on the shoulder and said, “Emmanuel, my friend, you really should get out of this business. One of these days you’ll come up here and it won’t be safe.”

Manny frowned a little at the use of his birth name, but didn’t make an issue out of the matter. “There’s still a war on, right?” He smiled at Hamid. “Y’all get that shit under control, and maybe I’ll work a straight job again.” Not too soon though, he thought. The least this war can do is last long enough to get me out of Texas.

Hamid smiled back, and Manny introduced Reggie to the officers. The journalist was clearly awkward in that special way Manny had come to expect from new war correspondents. It was the norm for young writers to be intimidated by grizzled military men. Some of them got over that; Manny had worked with a middle-aged Der Spiegel reporter last week who’d probably taken as much incoming fire as Major Clark.

Colonel Milgram led them into the militarized taco shop. A brief blast of nostalgia squeezed Manny’s lungs. The place had obviously been closed since the Revolution. The drink specials and meal prices printed on the wall were given in U.S. dollars, a currency as dead as the last American president. Manny recognized ads for bands and movies he remembered from his childhood. The glass facade had shattered years ago. The kitchen had been gutted and replaced by wall-length screens displaying maps of the city. At least a dozen uniformed men and women milled around the space in small groups.

He and Reggie sat down at a long picnic table with Hamid and the two officers. Reggie set his camera up on the table. It was just a small silver sphere, but Manny knew it could record everything happening around it at a higher resolution than the human eye.

An orderly brought in three beers, Shiner Bocks from Austin, and one dark brown tea in a glass cup for Hamid. The Brit raised his glass in a friendly salute, “Thank you for meeting with me.” And then he started to ask questions. Manny leaned back in his chair and enjoyed a long gulp of cold beer. If he wasn’t needed to translate, he generally checked out during interviews.