“How many men have you killed?”

“Ah. Too many. I didn’t count. None that couldn’t and wouldn’t have killed me.”

“Do you enjoy killing?”

“I enjoy the craft of shooting. It’s what I was put here to do.”

“Are you a gun nut?”

“I have respected them and they have served me. My family heritage is battle with the gun, for the sake of society, but also—and I have thought hard about this and can admit finally—it fulfills me. As I say, it’s what I do, and if I am not doing it, something is missing from my life. But I don’t have sex with them.”

“Still, this whole thing could be a fantasy to get yourself in another gunfight, yes?”

“I often wonder about that. It’s possible. But in all the things I’ve done since the Marine Corps, I was on the track of righting some wrong, usually recalling the sacrifice of someone like me who had been forgotten.”

“Are you a psychopathic killer?”

“I am not psycho. I just have always found guns interesting and appreciate their capabilities, which, like my own, are at their highest peak when circumstances are at their most extreme. I have no need to kill. But I never dream about it.”

Questions came and went. There seemed no pattern to them. It was like receiving fire from all points of the compass. As promised, Cohen was the most annoying.

“Do you consider sniping an act of murder or an act of war?”

“War. I have only taken out armed men. I take no pleasure in the kill, and I’ve made no money from it. I make my money taking care of ailing horses. I love horses. My wife is a good business manager, I have a reputation, and so we have prospered. I don’t need money, I have all I will ever need.”

“What moved you about Mrs. McDowell?”

“Her pain. Some people close to me have died in violent action. They were, all of them, too good to pass that way, but sometimes, by whimsy or evil, it happens. So I felt that.”

“Do you think that could have clouded your judgment?”

“No. She was real. Her pain was real. Her courage is real. Her facts are true.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was afraid if she didn’t see progress, she’d commit suicide. I realized that we had reached a point—she had reached a point—where to proceed, we needed the support of state actors. Resources beyond our means, access to information beyond our scope. We just weren’t big enough to do it no more. And every time she went over there, she risked her life. The next trip would have left her floating upside down in a river.”

“It sounds more like you are hiring us, not us hiring you.”

“I want Juba. For me, that’s what this is about.”