Free Outsourced by R. J. Hillhouse Page A

of gunfire. He hit the brakes and the Navigator skidded to a halt sideways in the middle of the street, blocking traffic. Hunter jumped from the Navigator shouting, “ Allahu akbar. ”
    The flip-flops were at least two sizes too big, but his toes gripped them as tightly as they could as he ran through the back alleys in search of Khalid the tailor.
    He could hear the bullets pelting his pursuers’ armored vehicles and hoped for their sake they had been smart enough to immediately call for reinforcements—it would be their only chance.

Chapter Eight
    Private military firms are business providers of professional services intricately linked to warfare. That is, they are corporate bodies that specialise in the sale of military skills. They do everything, from leasing out commando teams and offering the strategic advice of ex-generals to running the outsourced supply chains for the US and now British armies. Such firms represent the evolution, globalisation, and corporatisation of the age-old mercenary trade.
    â€” London News Review , March 19, 2004, as contributed by Peter W. Singer
    Camp Tornado Point, Anbar Province
    Camille stood in Saddam’s former bedroom before the Marine base commander, ignoring CIA case officer Chronister and staring at a point just behind the colonel at one of Saddam’s murals depicting a serpent constricting around a pin-up girl. Camille was thinking about how much she hated herself for once again protecting Hunter. Using the sidearm she had left him with would’ve been loud and Hunter was the quiet type. She had little doubt he had broken Kyle’s neck shortly before he surprised her in her motor pool. She wasn’t about to take the rap for him, but then again she also had no desire to help Chronister nail him. She may have wanted to hurt Hunter for how he had repeatedly betrayed her, but she was loyal in the face of an outside threat and Chronister had long ago proven himself to be just that.
    â€œColonel Lukson, may I borrow your office for a few moments?” Chronister said as he shooed away a fly. “I need to discuss some things with Ms. Black in private. I might be able to clear this up so you don’t have to hand the investigation over to the Army’s Criminal Investigation Division.”
    â€œAfter how they screwed us at Haditha, I’m happy to keep those CID turds from nosing around my base.” Lukson nodded once, stood and walked away.
    Camille and the CIA case officer listened to the squeak of his footsteps across the marble floor. As soon as Lukson had left the room, Camille sat down.
    â€œReally, Camille. I didn’t expect you to protect Hunter Stone.”
    â€œYou’re a piece of shit, Joe.”
    â€œYou just made yourself a murder suspect. We now have reason to detain you. And detention in Iraq can last a very long time.”
    â€œFuck you. You’re desperate. You can kill anyone you want in this Allah-forsaken country and, unless you’re a grunt fragging an officer, no one gives a damn.” She reached into a cargo pocket of her 5.11s, pulled out a half-pound bag of peanut M&Ms and threw a handful into her mouth.
    â€œBut you handed me a little more leverage to persuade you to come back to work for me,” Chronister said as a pigeon flew near them. Both turned their heads and watched as it landed on a headless statue covered in bird droppings. Chronister continued, “And yeah, I’m getting desperate. As soon as I get some loose ends of a project squared away, I finally get to retire.”
    â€œWork for you again? Go to hell.”
    â€œYou’ve done well for yourself since leaving the Agency. You’re a rich lady now. Looks to me like you should be thanking me.”
    â€œI got out because I saw an opportunity to do what I’ve always wanted—something I never had at the CIA—despite your promises.” She held the M&Ms in her sweaty hand so long the color was