Huda raised the window and turned up the air-conditioning. They’d been pulled over at two other checkpoints, but both times the soldiers had been older men who remembered the value of discipline and common courtesy—or if not, they knew it wasn’t wise to mess with anyone in a big expensive vehicle, carrying papers stamped with the Foreign Ministry’s seal. Huda peeked at the young men at the guard post. They were a different sort, unpredictable. They jostled about, sniggering, passing papers and permits back and forth like trading cards.

The young soldier exited the guard post, cocky, rolling his shoulders and hips. The others followed. They reminded Huda of scrappy desert dogs creeping toward a camel, hoping to get in a bite before they got kicked. The first soldier, the alpha dog, strode toward the Land Cruiser.

“Boys, guns, and testosterone.” Ally eyed their approach. “It’s a dangerous mix.”

Huda lowered the window. The burning wind rushed in again. She extended her palm for the papers.

“Get out.” The alpha dog yanked on the door handle. It was locked but he kept yanking. “Get out, I said.”

“Why?” Huda recoiled. “What’s wrong?”

“Unlock the door and get out. Now.”

Alarm flashed in Ally’s eyes.

“What did he say? Is he telling us to get out of the car?”

“Stay here,” said Huda. “Let me handle this.”

She unlocked the door and slid out onto the highway’s dusty shoulder. The soldier was taller than she’d realized, and the sun pouring over his shoulder stung her eyes. A truck rumbled by, wheels churning up dust and exhaust fumes. The desert wind gathered it all up and sent it whistling back toward Baghdad along with a million grains of sand.

“How can I help you?” Huda wanted to sound calm and in control, but she had to shriek over the traffic and the wind. A line of vehicles snaked toward the checkpoint. Were Abu Issa and the Bolt Cutter out there, waiting to swoop in? What about Abdul Amir? Had he changed his mind? Was he hunting them too?

“The deputy ambassador’s wife has all the correct travel permits,” Huda told the soldier. “There shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“I want to see your travel permit.”

“I don’t need one. A driver from the embassy in Jordan is meeting us at the border crossing. He’ll take her to Amman and I will return to Baghdad.”

Alpha Dog’s lip curled back in a sneer.

“Since when do women work as drivers? That’s a man’s job.” He cast a sly glance at his two sidekicks. “Just like a soldier is a real man’s job.”