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rubbing off them.
    â€œYou’re a damn good operator, but you never would’ve survived in the Special Activities Division—no woman ever has. Come on, Camille, you know those operators. They’re all Delta and SEALs. They don’t play with girls. They’re the Agency’s military—they never would’ve let you go out on a mission with them no matter how desperate they got. If I hadn’t stepped in, you’d still be at the Agency making coffee for the boys.”
    â€œRight. And if I were still working for you, I’d be servicing dead drops, sticking messages under things and marking the spots with chalk—takes real skill. You know, I found out that Iggy had actually approved my transfer over to them. I certified in all the Black Book standards—the exact same standards all the Delta operators train to.”
    â€œCamille, honey, no one doubts you’re every bit as good as they are.” He held his hand out and pointed at the M&M bag. “Gimme.”
    She hesitated, then poured him a handful, took more for herself and dropped the bag onto the desk. Joe was the one who had gotten her hooked on them back when he had taken her to Algiers on her first undercover mission for the Agency.
    â€œI trained all my life for that kind of action.” Camille wiped her green and red stained palm on her pants. “You lied to me that I’d get it in the Agency.”
    â€œI told the truth. I thought it would be different.”
    â€œIt would’ve been if you hadn’t sabotaged me.”
    â€œYou’re like a daughter to me. I was protecting you,” Joe said. “They would’ve fucked you good, left you alone, hanging in the cold on some mission, expecting an extraction that would never come. I’ve seen them do it to others.”
    He picked up the bag of M&Ms and held it out to her. Camille stared at him, studying him as she took the candy. He was an expert at deception and manipulation, but he actually seemed sincere. She wanted him to be sincere. “Quit shitting me.”
    â€œYou were the best student I ever had. I got a real kick out of mentoring you. I didn’t want to lose you. You know what they say, ‘all’s fair in love, war and the Agency.’”
    She held up her index finger and bowed her head slightly while she finished chewing, then she swallowed. “What do you want?”
    â€œA job done right.”
    â€œI have contracts for anything the Agency wants. Have someone else contact one of my ops officers, give him a target and my boys will take care of it.”
    â€œI want you to do it personally.” Chronister paused, looked her in the eyes and appeared for a second as if he was going to crack a smile. Then he said, “I want you to kill Hunter Stone.”

Chapter Nine
    Troops and civilians at a U.S. military base in Iraq were exposed to contaminated water last year and employees for the responsible contractor, Halliburton, couldn’t get their company to inform camp residents, according to interviews and internal company documents.
    â€” Associated Press , January 22, 2006, as reported by Larry Margasak
    Ramadi, Anbar Province
    Ramadi was an unending stretch of bombed-out houses, neglected alleyways and decaying two-story concrete tenements. Garbage heaps and twisted car frames cluttered even the best neighborhoods. Roosters crowed from behind walled courtyards and dirty, skinny children were everywhere, playing in the streets and on rooftops. Hunter walked along an open ditch that smelled of sewage as he headed toward his contact’s tailor shop in the downtown souk . With his white dress and checkered headscarf, he looked like an Iraqi, but he walked like an American and he knew it. He continually forced himself to slow down and amble along, reminding himself he was in no rush. Rubicon didn’t have a chance at finding him. At that moment his biggest threats were the blister on his