“Rodgers here.”

“It’s Talman. I’ve got two locations for you to check out.”

“Where?” he demanded.

“A bus terminal someplace in Najaf and something called Faris garage in Karbala. They modified two US military ambulances with smoke generators to deliver the VX.”

“How reliable is this,” he asked.

“Enough to shoot me in the gut, and leave me to die.”

“Hold on John, We’ll get help to you. Do you see the GPS icon on the phone? Press that and it will broadcast where you are.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”

“Where are you now?” Rodgers asked.

“I’m in some kind of rental hall, next to Al-Taqiy mosque.”

“Wait one…” Rodgers said.

“I found Michael. He’s dead. This time for sure.”

“I’m sorry, John. I know he was your friend,” Rodgers said. “There is a checkpoint manned by a joint Iraqi and American team two blocks north and one block east of you. Can you make it to them or should I send them to you?”

“I’ll go to them. Just let them know I’m coming. I’ve had enough people shoot at me tonight already.”