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“And you, Samuel? Newspapermen in your family?”

    â€œNo,” I said, enjoying the brief touch from Miriam but hating everything else that was now going on. “No, they were soldiers. My great-grandfather was in the trenches in the First World War. My grandfather was at Dieppe. And my father was in the Canadian Army, as well.”
    â€œOh,” Miriam said. “Well, your father, he must still be proud of you, then.”
    â€œYou would think so,” I said. Then the Toyota Land Cruiser in front of us braked suddenly and an arm was thrust out of the driver’s-side window, windmilling excitedly.
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    PETER SLAMMED ON the brakes, causing Miriam to shout something out, and me to bounce up against the seat belt. Peter slammed the gear lever into reverse and backed suddenly. I turned, wondering if we were going to slam into the other Toyota, but Sanjay—surprisingly enough, considering his passenger—was paying attention and had backed up as well. Sanjay stopped about fifty meters away and we carried on reversing to stop about twenty-five meters in front of him. Then I tried to swallow.
    Miriam leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”
    Peter swiveled around in his seat again, his eyes wide and his stare hard. “Not sure, but that was the disperse signal Charlie gave us up there. Damn it, with all this bloody fog this sure is a great place for a fucking ambush.”
    I was aware of just how exposed we were, and I wished that Peter had kept his mouth shut. I knew the purpose of the dispersal signal: to prevent us from lumping together and thereby making ourselves an easy and attractive target. Our Land Cruiser’s engine was still rumbling in idle and I thought about how thin the metal of the doors and frame around us was. The militias were well armed. A couple of sweeping motions with a couple of automatic weapons and the UN would be out one inspection team.
    Miriam said, “Jean-Paul and Charlie are stepping out.”
    â€œSo they are,” Peter said.
    I leaned forward, saw them get out, kneel down by the side of the road. I rubbed my hands against my pants legs. Peter suddenly opened the door and said, “To hell with this, I’m not waiting here to get gut-shot. I’m going up to see what’s going on.”
    Miriam said, “We’re not supposed to move without the all-clear signal. Those are the procedures. Right, Samuel?”
    I shook my head. “Sorry, I’m with Peter on this one. Let’s see what’s going on.”

    I joined up with Peter at the front of the Toyota and walked with him as we went up the road, our feet sounding loud on the pavement, loud enough that I imagined gunmen kilometers away could hear us. I swiveled my head constantly as we went up to the first vehicle. Peter just kept looking ahead of us and said, “Miriam still back there?”
    â€œYep.”
    Peter snorted. “Nice little Dutch girl. Almost as bad as the Krauts when it comes to following the rules. Karen and Sanjay moving?”
    I turned again. “Nope. Still in their Toyota.”
    Another dismissive noise from Peter. “Probably tearing off a piece or something while we’re waiting.”
    â€œYou always this pleasant, or are you trying extra hard today?”
    Peter just laughed, a nasal tone I couldn’t stand. We got close enough to hear Jean-Paul and Charlie talking, and Peter called out, “What’s going on?”
    Jean-Paul stood up from the pavement, brushing at his knees. There were dark areas around each knee, where moisture from the road had soaked through. “You should be back there with your vehicle. I didn’t give the all-clear signal.”
    â€œSorry, boss. I thought I saw it. Right, Samuel?”
    Jean-Paul looked at me, his gaze judging and evaluating me. I had seen that look before, many times, growing up in Father’s household. “Well?” he asked.
    â€œThat’s what