“Well, let me fill you in then,” Big Daddy said. “You’re nowhere. You’re not under arrest. No one has logged you in to any system. As far as anyone is concerned, you died in battle this morning with the rest of your men, slaughtered like a pig. You’ll notice I haven’t even tried to find out your name. That’s because I don’t care. Why would I care about the name of a dead man?”

He waited for the translation to reach the man. When the translator finished, the man nodded. Luke thought he saw a subtle change behind the man’s eyes then.

“Did they all die?”

Big Daddy looked at Luke. Luke nodded.

“Yes.”

The man stared straight ahead now.

“My name is Abu Ayyub Kamal. I was injured during the battle. I demand to see a doctor.”

“You don’t look injured,” Big Daddy said.

“I have internal injuries. I have been mistreated during captivity. I would like to see representatives of the International Red Cross or Red Crescent. I want them to know I am a prisoner of war in American custody.”

“You’re not in American custody.”

“Yes I am.”

Big Daddy shook his head. “You’re not listening to me.”

He went to a small table in the corner. There were several items on the table. Luke hadn’t looked closely at it before now.

Big Daddy came back holding a small metal canister with a spout.

“This is gasoline,” he said.

He upended the canister and the amber green fluid began to flow onto the man’s feet. The man tried to move his feet, but the stocks wouldn’t move. They were weighted and bolted to the floor. Big Daddy also spilled some up the man’s legs.

The stench of raw gasoline filled the room.

The man shouted. Then he began to scream.

“No! You must not do this!”

“Scream all you want,” Big Daddy said. “There is no one to hear you.”

Dutifully, wincing, the Iraqi translator repeated Big Daddy’s words in Arabic. The translator, a Shiite working for the provisional government, in all likelihood had no love for Sunnis, but even so… Big Daddy’s work, and the businesslike, matter-of-fact way he approached it, would make anyone wince.

The blank, expressionless look on his face made things even worse. Big Daddy wasn’t even angry yet.

He took a large Zippo lighter from his pocket and clicked it on. A four-inch flame appeared, yellow-orange and blue at its base.

“This is what I meant when I said I would hold your feet to the fire. What did you think I meant?”

“No!” the man said. “Stop! Please stop! I will tell you. I will tell you anything.”

Big Daddy looked at Luke and winked.

“Gets them almost every time,” he said.

Luke raised an eyebrow. “Almost?”