The little girl didn’t say anything, as far as they could tell. She clung to Captain Francois’s leg as the Japanese were pushed and kicked into motion. Duffy saw the women cringe as a group when the Japs drew near. The girl burrowed farther into the surgeon’s fatigues. The marines guarding the Japanese prisoners threw a look at their platoon leader. Chen held still for a few seconds, then nodded once and walked away.

“Ms. Duffy,” said Ivanov. “Why don’t you turn off your recorder now?”

Julia gave the Russian a flat look. She considered the wretched figures of the comfort women as they cringed in front of their former captors.

She slowly reached up and cut the power to the minicam.

The five prisoners were a study in contrasting styles. Two swaggered over. One seemed to have checked out completely. Another had to be kicked every step of the way. The commandant was subdued and shaking. As they stopped in front of Francois, the Japanese registered that fact that she was a woman. The commandant’s whole body began to tremble. Francois rubbed the girl’s head. One of the women leaned forward and spat.

“Come on,” said Ivanov.

They walked over until they were close enough that they could hear the conversation.

“What’s your name, asshole?” the surgeon asked.

The camp commander didn’t appear to understand.

Captain Francois pulled the little girl’s head closer into her lap and covered her ear with one hand. With the other she unshipped her sidearm and fired one shot into the face of the prisoner farthest from her. A fountain of blood and brain matter erupted and the body dropped into the dust like a big sack of shit. Duffy’s heart skipped.

The women jumped and one began to cry. The child uncurled from her hiding spot and walked over to inspect the corpse. She kicked the twitching body.

“I asked you what your name is, you rapist motherfucker.”

The commandant began to babble incoherently. He shut up only when Francois capped off another two of his men.

The other Japanese man broke and ran. She shot him in the back. The impact lifted him right off his feet. He dropped in a heap a few yards away.

“Excuse me,” said Francois. As she walked over to the man, who was trying to drag himself away, the girl followed close at her heels. Francois put a bullet into the base of the guard’s neck and he fell still.

She took the girl’s hand and led her back to the main group. The commandant had fallen to his knees and was begging the marines to do something. They shared a smoke and ignored him. Duffy found herself glad that she’d turned off the minicam. She wasn’t sure why. It was a betrayal of everything she stood for as a journalist. But this was a moment beyond professional considerations.