‘Carry on, Lieutenant,’ he said, and listened to Lagudi’s overview of the various combat assignments he’d taken part in and his background in the Green Berets. Seemed Lagudi was the battering ram, the first man over the top. Good, thought Alex, a brave heart in that huge chest. I can use him.

Second Lieutenant Francis O’Riordan looked as Irish as they came, with his close-cropped startlingly orange hair and his pale skin. When he opened his mouth though, his accent was pure Bronx, every statement ending with a stab that made it sound like a question or a challenge. ‘Irish’ O’Riordan was from Special Forces Alpha, specialised in chemical engineering, and was proficient in explosive device construction, placement and disposal. The rumour was he could create a bomb from the contents of the average refrigerator.

Alex had read the man’s report. His previous Alpha team had been the best squad going – until they got blown to pieces. Irish had come home on a stretcher; the rest of his unit were spread over a hundred feet of steaming jungle. In the debrief, Irish had stated that Captain Dianne Chambers had ignored advice from her team and run them into hell – a claymore web: one way in, no way out. Follow-up psych sessions detailed a simmering anger against female authority, but also said O’Riordan was fit for duty. To date, he had continued to excel. Alex could see a mote of hostility in the man’s eyes now. Anger is okay; controlling it is the key, he thought. Time for a little push.

‘Where do you call home, Lieutenant O’Riordan? Riverdale, Throggs Neck?’ he asked.

Alex knew a little about the Bronx as he had spent some time at Fort Hamilton in New York. Though the Bronx was one of the most populous areas in the United States, and some of those areas were the toughest in the country, parts of it were fast becoming gentrified and Riverdale and Throggs Neck were two suburbs that were now more movie star than ‘gangsta’ turf. Alex heard a slight snigger from the other men at the question.

O’Riordan’s eyes slid to Alex and narrowed for a second before he went back to staring straight ahead. ‘Nah, sir. Born and raised in South Bronx just down from Fordham. Born and bred there, but it ain’t my home now; ain’t never goin’ back.’

It was a tough area – primarily Hispanic, African-American and Italian. A kid with red hair would stand out like crap on a snow cake – Irish would have had to do a lot of fighting growing up.

Alex stared directly into the man’s face as he said, ‘Put too much cream in your coffee, did they? Had some bad sushi at your last poetry reading, Lieutenant?’