MUNCHEL 10:22 P.M. MUNCHEL MUNCHEL WATCHES the split-tail climb back through the window, and he feels every hair on his arms stand at attention. He isn’t tired. He isn’t scared. He’s electrified. This has been the greatest day of his life. And when that cop returns fire, it will take everything up to the next level. He imagines this is the desert, hot wind blowing in his eyes, sand in his teeth, his platoon pinned down by enemy fire, and Private Munchel – no, Sergeant Munchel – is called to take them out with extreme prejudice. But the insurgents have a sniper of their own, a famous Taliban bitch who’s a dead shot at a thousand yards, and only Sergeant Munchel has the skill to- “Where in the hell are you?” The radio startles Munchel, jolting him out of his reverie. He swears, unclips the radio, then presses the talk button. “What’s the problem now, Swanson?”
