UP A HUNDRED feet on a promontory, Vivienne spotted the profile of that bighorn sheep, and she shot it against the noonday sun, its horns curved down, its head noble, looking down on its big rocky house and the four intruders.
The naturally tiled high walls made a canyon curtain.
“Hold up,” she said. “I want a pic. You two stand on either side of Danny.”
Val placed Danny against the ancient polished wall. He got on his left, Johnny got on his right. They each put an arm around Danny. They smiled, but not with their eyes. Vivienne liked that. Danny looked at the camera, stunned. “Let me have that,” he said.
“You wish,” Vivienne said.
“Call him Special Ambassador,” Val said. “We named him.”
“Oh good,” she said, the camera at her eye, framing. “Now he can go back into Iraq and get rid o
