The cover story went that when Cole was arrested, the Americans seized his Humvee and freed his girls. After three days of stonewalling his interrogators—during which time he had received the black eye and busted lip—he was released. Then he met Luke and Ed in a bar inside the Green Zone. Luke and Ed had been contractors until they realized freelancing was more lucrative. They had carjacked this Mercedes three weeks ago from a Jordanian businessman and were tooling around in it, looking to make a score.

“No, I mean it,” Cole said. “This thing around my neck… He could drop me anytime he wants.”

Luke noted that Cole was wearing a buttoned-up shirt that came nearly to his chin. The metal collar he wore was hidden from sight. That was probably for the best. It could be hard to explain a thing like that.

“I’ve known the guy for a few years,” Luke said. “You might not believe this, but he actually likes you. If he really wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

“He’s torturing me, man. Don’t you get that? This is torture. It’s against the laws of war. This thing on my neck…”

A deep voice intruded on the conversation. It was Ed Newsam, calm but annoyed. “Hey, man. You better shut up with that talk. I don’t want to hear it. Stone don’t want to hear it. We don’t care about your problems. You got a job to do. Do the job, and we’ll give the man a good report on you.”

Cole shook his head. “That guy’s got a problem with me. He wants to kill me. I don’t know if a good report—”

“Whose fault is that? Mine? Stone’s? Shut up or I’ll call your master right now. Tell him you’re not cooperating.”

“My master?”

“The man owns you, don’t he?” Ed Newsam said. Luke didn’t bother to look back at him. Instead, he watched the passing city, and the road up ahead. “Call a thing what it is. That’s my philosophy.”

They turned onto a wide boulevard. It had been a grand concourse at one time, lined with trees on either side. Most of the trees had been chopped down to the stumps. Burnt out cars and military trucks lined the curbs. The road itself was pockmarked and pitted, as though it had been bombed from the air.

At the far end, maybe a mile in the distance, a tall palace seemed to float in the sky, with minarets on either side. As they approached, Luke could see that it was surrounded by high stone walls and a checkpoint gate. It was hard to tell in the early morning gloom what the checkpoint was constructed from.

“This is when it gets serious,” Cole said.

“You know these guys, right?” Luke said.

Cole laughed. “Oh yeah. Straight up cowboys, every one of them.”