Seri was standing up on the roof. She was about to say something when Frank said, “Come on, Extra. Rex and Jeff have an armored Land Cruiser. They’re waiting for us right now at the gate. They’re packing a bunny suit for you.”

Rex and Jeff were sheriff’s deputies who’d traded in amphetamine dealers and shoplifters for training Afghan police under contract to the State Department. They’d been here since before Mary and Frank’s first tour. Some DynCorp contractors lived in villas—if you could call them that—in Kabul proper. They were unfinished concrete spruced with tipsy balconies and reflective windows that looked like mirrored blue sunglasses. Last year, after a convoy of DynCorpers got blasted on their way out of one of the villa neighborhoods, the company started scattering personnel. Jeff won the lottery when DynCorp put him up in the new Serena Hotel, in the center of town. It was like Bali in Kabul, no gilt crud, stunning plain, tranquil. Last week a suicide bomber got through the Kalashnikovs and the security walls to blast eight guests in the lobby and gym. Jeff had assisted on the investigation, worked straight through since, but today weather had shut down the city.

Jeff was divorced. He called Vermont home. He acted like he condemned flirtation. Rex was a weightlifter who missed his wife, home in Greensboro. Frank was the jester, and Jeff seemed to need the antics. Rex was a little more interested in Mary, mostly because he had a recreational pilot’s license back home. He knew a lot about vintage aircraft, like she did. It was often she and Rex in a corner debating Taylorcraft history while Frank talked trash and made Jeff laugh.

It took a while to reach the base entrance, since the shuttle bus wasn’t running. When they got there, the Land Cruiser, with its slithering antenna, was puffing like a smokehouse. They climbed in, and even Jeff was in a good mood.

“Here you go, Mary,” Rex said, handing her some wool pants and a pile of red sweaters. They looked like Rex’s.

“This?”

“X, you’ll look like a lollipop,” Frank said.

“Not a good idea to wear anything regulation where we’re going,” Jeff said from the driver’s seat. He looked at Mary in the rearview mirror. “Though they might be a tad big.”

“I forget how little you are,” Rex said.

“That’s ’cause she’s a killer,” Frank said.

“No, it’s ’cause you’re a dick,” she said.

Frank whistled. “Testy.”

“Somebody your way got more than testy last night, from what I hear,” Jeff said.

Mary kept pulling one of the sweaters over her head.

“Over thirty dead, more wounded,” Rex said.

“They took some of the injured to the ISAF camp near Khost,” Jeff added.

“Why?” Frank said.

“One of the commanders over there is trying something different, that’s all,” Rex said.