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The other man, Jack Rabin, was leaning against the low entertainment center positioned directly across from the couch. Both men still had their jackets on, but they were now unbuttoned, revealing the guns in their holsters. They faced the sofa and Matt took a seat there, shifting uncomfortably.
    Rabin began the interview with small talk. Matt listened politely and responded in kind as he mentally evaluated the two men. Harrison removed a pen and notepad from his shirt pocket. He flipped the pad open and, with the pen poised, alternated between looking at his partner and Matt. Harrison was in his early thirties, tall and very well built. He had blond hair, blue eyes and a chin thatseemed to be cut from the mold of a Terminator action figure.
    Despite Matt’s fifteen-minute deadline, Harrison’s partner didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get the interview started. Rabin was settled on to the edge of the entertainment center, his arms loosely crossed and his extended legs hooked at the ankles. The older of the two, he was also well built but leaner and taller. Even leaning back against the entertainment center, he seemed to tower over the two men in the small living room. He had a scar above his right eye and another one on his chin. He talked about his recent relocation to South Florida, his first hurricane season in South Florida and the Miami Dolphins season Matt had missed while he was gone. Matt found himself falling into the familiar rhythm of exchanging anecdotes with a new acquaintance even as his experience told him he was being lulled into a false sense of security.
    Matt glanced over at Harrison. The man’s eyes bore into his partner, as if willing him to make eye contact. His pen now tapped what seemed like an urgent Morse code message against the pad. The intensity made Matt anxious to get to the point as well.
    When Rabin paused for a moment, Matt took that as his opportunity.
    “So I thought the Department of Homeland Security was out there confiscating water bottles, women’s beauty products and other dangerous stuff that could potentially take down a Boeing 757. What are you doing here interviewing me?”
    “Well, certainly, Matt, securing our borders and ensuring our planes are safe for travel are part of the job. As we speak, there are teams out there doing just that. But Agent Harrison and I are responsible for gathering information that will enable us to stop terrorist activity before it gets here to American soil.”
    “Good to know. I feel safer already.”
    Neither man laughed.
    “So, should I be asking to see some type of warrant? Should I have an attorney present?”
    “We don’t have a warrant, Matt,” Rabin responded with a small shrug. “This meeting is completely voluntary. As to whether or not you should have an attorney, well, I guess that depends on whether you think you’ve done something wrong or have something to hide. Assuming you don’t, we’d just like to ask you a few questions. Then we’ll be on our way.”
    “I’ve got nothing to hide,” Matt replied after a moment. “So why don’t you guys just go ahead and ask your questions.”
    “Okay, then,” Rabin said before nodding to Harrison.
    The interview started out pretty mildly with Harrison inquiring about the dates Matt was in Iraq and Afghanistan, where he stayed and traveled and the names of other journalists with whom he’d come into contact while he was there. Rabin asked several general questions about the stories Matt had written and the research he had conducted. They seemed to be already familiar with the articles he had written, and Matt wasn’t sure whether heshould be flattered or alarmed that they had obviously spent some time researching him.
    “So, other than the journalists and U.S. military personnel, who did you interview over there?” Harrison asked.
    “I spoke with lots of the locals.”
    “Any tribal leaders? Or leaders within the rebel forces?”
    Matt’s body tensed and he didn’t