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Back Game of Snipers Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY STEPHEN HUNTER
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. PART 1
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. PART 2
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. PART 3
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. PART 4
  55. 47
  56. 48
  57. 49
  58. 50
  59. 51
  60. 52
  61. 53
  62. 54
  63. 55
  64. 56
  65. 57
  66. 58
  67. 59
  68. 60
  69. PART 5
  70. 61
  71. 62
  72. Acknowledgments
  73. About the Author
  74. What’s next onyour reading list?

“Another thing,” said Swagger. “Remember, Juba ain’t no cosmopolitan world traveler. So one of the things he’ll do here is go out with a group of guys to get acclimated to America. They’ll take him places, brief him on public transportation, taxis, Uber, anything practical that’ll prepare him for movement in America as he manipulates his way closer to his target.”

“That’s good,” said Nick.

“Swagger has gifts for this game,” said Gold.

“Hey!” Swagger said, looking at Houston. “You said getting an agent in was impossible? I know an agent who could get in.”

All eyes came to him.

“This person knows the routines. This person has passed among them before. This person has the clothes. This person knows the prayers, the ranks in the mosque, the literature, the culture. This person has done undercover. This person is brave, speaks the language, and is highly motivated. This person has a very low profile.”

“Sergeant Swagger,” said Gold, “I don’t think we could ask—”

“No, she’d do it in a second. They took her son.”

16

Dearborn, Michigan, and thereabouts

His name was Jared Akim. He was twenty-four. He was from Grosse Pointe, and his father was a periodontist.

“Are you blooded?” asked Juba.

“No. I’m not a fighter. Look how thin my arms are.”

“It’s not the arms, it’s the spirit.”

“Brother, I have the spirit. No arms, plenty of spirit.”

“I would like a man who is blooded,” said Juba to the imam.

But he got Jared instead.

“Brother,” said Jared, “if I were blooded, I would be on somebody’s list. The FBI would be watching me. I would have no freedom of movement. I would lead them straight to you. Unblooded, they have never noticed me. Even with two years in university in Cairo, they did not pay me any attention. I am a virgin in this business, and I am told of your importance, so I infer that you need a virgin as your assistant. I speak English as well as I speak Arabic. I’m cute, so people like me. But I am ready to fight, willing to die, and I will get the job done.”

Juba appraised him. Skinny, tousle-headed, lithe, quick, beautiful, earnest, a smiler and a charmer, a boy full of words. He didn’t care for men full of words, as they were often too clever and saw through everything and believed in nothing, but he had no real choice in the matter.

“If I sense weakness, I will dispense with you quickly. You understand that?”

“I do.”

“Then proceed.”

Jared learned quickly. He never forgot. Once spoken to him, it became a part of his mind-set. Currency was first, and after absorbing the values of American coins and bills, it moved swiftly to the culture of the exchange.