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uninterested. She lingered at the end of the long block, noting that every other lot had an abandoned or half-built structure on it, a sign of the decline that Ramallah had experienced since the Second Intifada had driven most of the middle class from the city in search of safety and steady work.
    When dusk arrived, the children tore down the street toward their homes, laughing and shouting with the innocent abandon of the young. She waited until dark to return to where the house lights were glimmering through the barred windows. Overhead a tapestry of stars shimmered in the desert night, the crescent moon providing just enough light for Maya to make her way into the ruin next door and take up her watch. The music in the house was now off, and she could make out men’s voices, but not well enough to hear what they were saying.
    A dark furry form exploded from one of the doorways and scampered across the concrete floor. Maya shuddered. Rats weren’t unexpected in this neighborhood, but that didn’t mean she liked them. The gloomy surroundings smelled of rot and urine and garbage, and she steeled herself to a long wait with only nocturnal predators and her gun for company.
    At nine the dwelling’s front door opened, and her target emerged with another, older man. They stood on the cracked sidewalk and embraced after quickly scanning the deserted street.
    “As I said, ball bearings would be best, but if you can’t get your hands on sufficient quantities, we could make do with nails and screws,” the older man explained. “But for maximum destruction and range, bearings are necessary.”
    “We’re working on it, Abreeq. I’m hopeful we’ll have something by tomorrow. How long will you need from the time they arrive?”
    “Maybe two days. We want it to evade detection, so the job must be done with care.”
    “Very well. I’ll inform Ammar.”
    “You know how to reach me. Praise Allah.”
    “Yes, praise him indeed. Those cockroaches won’t know what hit them.”
    The older man grunted. “I must go. Call me when you have the material.”
    “It will be tomorrow, around this time.”
    Maya held her breath lest she alert the men to her presence. She listened as footsteps echoed down the sidewalk and smelled the pungent smoke of a cigarette wafting from the dusty front yard. The scrape of a shoe on cement from the front of the abandoned house caused her to stiffen, and she eased her pistol from her robe and thumbed the safety off. She could sense a man’s presence near the darkened entrance and prepared to shoot, aiming her weapon at the doorway as the sweet cigarette smoke drifted across it.
    After an eternity, a woman’s voice called from the house, urging the smoker to come inside. Maya waited as the man’s footsteps faded, and then the door of the quarry’s house slammed shut and the street was still. She crouched in the dark, adrenaline from the near miss coursing through her system, and considered the snatch of conversation she’d heard: the men wanted ball bearings, but nails would do. Because when making an anti-personnel device, any shrapnel was good, but steel bearings would do the most damage.
    They were working on a bomb to use against the cockroaches.
    And it sounded like it would happen soon.
    She didn’t have to think very hard to determine who the cockroaches were.
    Fifteen minutes later the lights went off inside the house. Maya waited another half hour, but the windows remained dark. She carefully picked her way through the refuse to the front entrance and slipped into the night, moving from shadow to shadow, her black robe and hijab nearly invisible in the gloom.
    Maya checked the time – she had forty-five minutes to make it back to the checkpoint, and it would take a good twenty from where she was. Her mind raced over how best to proceed as she hurried down the empty street. She knew she should report what she’d overheard, but if she did, she’d be subject to harsh disciplinary