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Jalal sampled the chicken tangine stew and found it delicious. He said, “Someone here has become quite the cook.”

Wasim said, “It’s what you learn when you have no women,” and the table laughed. Jalal said, “Tanan, how did you set that video system up?”

Showing modesty, he said, “It was simple. You just buy a Wi-Fi camera, hook it and your computer to a Wi-Fi node, and you can start using it.” He opened a cheap netbook computer and said, “I paid the teenager at the game stop ten dirham for the password. He didn’t care, because it’s not his Wi-Fi.”

He raked a finger over the trackpad, bringing the screen to life. It showed a backward-looking view, as if someone was outside, at the gaming center, looking toward their door. Tanan said, “This way, we could see if anyone from the police were coming.”

Jalal surveyed the feed, seeing a small boy at the gaming center. The boy began walking toward them, reading each door’s address. Jalal recognized him, and an electric jolt of adrenaline raced through his body.

“Grab your stuff. Right now. Is there a way out of here that doesn’t involve that alley? A back way?

“No. There’s a cut-through in the gaming center, halfway up the alley. That’s our planned escape. That’ll lead to the market on the other side. Why?”

“I passed that boy on the way in. He was sitting with a European eating ice cream. The European took an interest in me, and now that boy is checking door addresses.”

“Jalal, it’s coincidence.”

“Nothing is a coincidence. I promise.”

They watched the screen, and the boy came closer and closer, checking each door as he walked. Jalal said, “He’s searching for our door. The man outside is against us. Do you have weapons?”

“Yes.” Wasim flicked his head at Tanan, and he raced to the back bedroom, flipping over a mattress to expose a trapdoor. He pulled it up, revealing a shallow pit holding four folding-stock AK-47s and a Makarov pistol. He handed the AKs out, each man taking one and loading a round. He kept the Makarov for himself, looking at Jalal.

Jalal said, “Give me the pistol.”

“What are you going to do?”

“If he comes to our door, he will have to die. We’ll flee straight out. Get ready, because if I’m right, they’ll be coming in. Who’s leading through the game room?”

Tanan raised his hand and said, “I know the way. I can get us to the cars.” Everyone except Jalal showed fear. The commitment was coming home much sooner than they’d expected.

Jalal returned to the computer. The boy kept coming, walking slowly and checking each door. He reached theirs, standing under the naked bulb, reading the address stuck in the tile next to the metal of the handle.

Jalal said, “That’s it. Put on your backpacks. It’s time to run.”

The men began scrambling, and Jalal saw the child raise his hand, the first door he’d bothered to knock on after checking all of them. Jalal knew he was right.

He leapt across the room and ripped open the door. He saw the child’s expression, shocked that someone had answered before he’d even knocked. The child said, “My mistake, sir.”

Jalal raised the pistol, put it between the boy’s eyes, and pulled the trigger.

—

On the street, Johan saw Fonzie raise his hand, then the door opened. The child was frozen in place, and Johan saw a pistol emerge. The man placed it right between Fonzie’s eyes, and the world went into slow motion. Johan screamed, startling the people around him. He sprinted toward the tunnel. In the harsh glare of the naked bulb he saw the pistol cycle, the casing eject, the head explode backward. And the fall of the body.

He felt unbridled rage and lost control. He ran into the tunnel, seeing men spilling out of the far doorway armed with Kalashnikovs. They began filling the tunnel with fire. He dove to the ground, squeezing his own trigger to suppress their aim.

The rounds snapped the air around him, smacking into the walls and spackling him with spall. He scrambled back to the entrance, diving out and rolling up against the wall. He peeked around the corner and saw four men run toward the video game center, all wearing rucksacks. He screamed again in frustration, seeing the children from the gaming center begin fleeing toward him. They burst out of the entrance, running in all directions. The teenager who manned the center took one step out of the alley and was hit in the back with multiple rounds. He spilled forward, his eyes wide, and Johan knew he was dead.

He rolled into the entrance in the prone, seeing the first of the men turn into the cave of the gaming room. Three made it into the cover, and Johan emptied a magazine at the fourth, seeing the bullets find their mark. The man dropped, and Johan changed magazines, running forward.

He cleared the small alcove of the gaming center, seeing it empty, then skipped over the downed man, kicking his AK to the side before rushing to Fonzie. He took one look at the shattered skull and felt another explosion of fury. He ran back to the man on the ground, seeing his body writhing in pain. He leaned forward, snarling, grabbing the man by his hair. The man said something in Arabic, and Johan put the gun to his forehead. The man’s eyes finally focused, and he began begging.

Johan squeezed the trigger.

He turned to the gaming establishment, seeing a torn-open plywood wall. He started to follow when he heard the rushing of feet coming down the hall. He turned, ready to kill anyone who entered, innocent or not.