“Hell, yes.”

“Free Boston pussy makes you forget Allah real quick.”

“Free. That is the thing. Free.”

“You gotta pay with your left ball back home, eh?”

“Absolutely.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It is like this. They have mothers. And the mothers tell them, This is the way. And we have fathers. And they tell us, This is the way. For fathers and mothers back to time beginning, it has been this way.”

“Much as I’d like to talk about how pussy gets managed around the globe, I have a few things I need to go over.” They were on a highway now. Ghazi did not know which one. The black Expedition was showroom clean, and for long stretches no one else was on the road.

The man in shirtsleeves slammed on the brakes. The seat belt around Ghazi snapped tight and he was crushed, fighting for breath, by the dashboard. All he could think at first was that his body must have broken so badly that he was in parts. He could hear laughter. He tasted blood. He tried to bring his hand to his face, but he was trapped between the seat and the windshield.

“Don’t try to move. Just makes it worse.” The man in shirtsleeves chuckled. “Never seen an air bag, I guess. You’re getting a first-class introductory lecture.”

Ghazi realized he could open his eyes. Through the windshield, he could see they were stopped in the center of five lanes. The highway was deserted.

“Oh. By the way. You’re in trouble.”

Ghazi tried to speak, but his breath was not enough for it.

“Not much to say, I see.”

The man turned on the radio. He hummed along with a song. Then the weather report. Lows in the teens, chance of flurries in the morning. Another song.