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get it back. And if that failed, he would buy Maaz a new digital camera.
    “What happened next?” Dr. Lami asked Duqaq.
    “They put the head in some kind of ice cooler. The yellow... thing, it was put in a plastic bag by the woman there. Then they left.”
    “What about the Iraqi woman?” the owner of the Iraq National Journal asked. “What happened to her?”
    “She was handcuffed,” Maaz explained. “I got a photo of her as she was taken away.”
    Dr. Lami put a hand on Fadhil’s shoulder, saying, “Let’s see all the photos again, please.”
    Fadhil keyed in commands and a slide show began of all the photos Maaz had taken. The two-star American general at the press conference. Then some pictures of the Marines at Checkpoint 2. Then from the hotel roof, again the Marines clustered around. Then moving away as one brought a pole to probe the head.
    “That one,” Dr. Lami said. “We’ll use that for sure.”
    Fadhil highlighted it and the slide show continued. There was a great shot of the taser gun being used on the head. “I think they were worried about explosives,” Duqaq said. “It’s the only explanation.”
    Everyone was quiet as the next photo showed the man and woman in fatigues inspecting the head. Then the shots of her reaching into the mouth and the yellow wad.
    “And that one,” Dr. Lami said, again touching Fadhil on the shoulder. “I’ll need color prints of that.”
    “For what?” Duqaq asked. “We have no idea what it is.”
    “No, but the Americans do. And I can take the photo to those I know in the U.S. Army. Ask them to share information, or I’ll release the photo.” Dr. Lami looked at Duqaq with a grin. “You stumbled on something or the Iraqi Security Forces would not have come down on you so hard.”
    “They didn’t arrest us,” Duqaq pointed out.
    “True, but by taking the camera they believed they had the photos. They thought that no one would ever know that something had been placed in the dead man’s mouth.” Again Dr. Lami smiled at Maaz. “Good work, son. Very good.”
    “I can’t be a photographer without my camera,” Maaz said grumpily.
    Dr. Lami laughed. “Don’t worry. You will have a camera.”
    The slide show continued with a close-up of the Iraqi woman being escorted to a Humvee by two Marines. “Zoom in,” Dr. Lami said. Fadhil manipulated the image and the young woman’s face filled the monitor. She was gorgeous and for a moment the room was silent as each man looked at her face on the monitor.
    “She brought them the head?” Dr. Lami asked Duqaq.
    “Either that or she was nearby when the Marines found it.”
    “I’ll need a copy of that,” Dr. Lami said, tapping Fadhil on the shoulder again.
    “What are you going to do?” Duqaq asked.
    “Find out who she is,” Dr. Lami replied. “I want to know what was in the dead American’s mouth. And what this woman has to do with it.”
     

Chapter Three
CIA Station Somewhere in Kuwait Wednesday, April 12th 7:41p.m.
    “I’m sure he was a DUCK,” Gonz said as they made their way through the different corridors. Dr. McKay couldn’t help but peek into the various offices as they passed by. She saw people working on computers, talking on phones, and several talking amicably at a small table in the modest cafeteria. This could be any work place in America, McKay thought. She had been surprised when the Gulfstream V had landed on a runway that seemed to her to be placed in the middle of nowhere – the middle of an uninhabited desert. There were no structures to be seen anywhere. The plane had taxied for some time, then stopped. When the door opened, a Humvee sat nearby waiting for them.
    The Humvee had driven a few miles along a sandy track before coming to a gleaming white single-story structure with darkly tinted windows. With no roads leading to it, only the sandy track, it looked as if it had been picked up from a commercial tract in a U.S. suburb and plunked down in the middle of the