hile living in a war zone, no one expects to fall in love. Rebecca Badeau surely didn’t. Falling in love was the last thing on her mind. It should have been impossible—completely and utterly avoidable. Somehow it wasn't. And now the moment she agonized over since meeting William Coulee was upon her.

      As the armored Hummer bearing GlobalLock’s clean white palette raced through the congested Baghdad streets, Rebecca stared out the side window and wondered how she would tell William the bad news. No, it’ll be good news, she assured herself. If everything went as planned, Rebecca would need to leave that night. She wanted to take William with her. The problem was how William would react to the immediacy.

      Rebecca's eyes caught site of a decomposed body on the side of the road.

      We've talked about it before, she thought. He seemed open to the idea. William's openness, however, was the contention between the mind and the heart. She knew what motivated him. William was a war correspondent for Time magazine. He came to Baghdad before the invasion and stayed through the awful Shock and Awe campaign. And now he was in the midst of reaping the rewards. The situation couldn't have been better for him. And I'm going to ask him to leave it all.

      The corpse's stench filled the vehicle.

      “We're getting close,” said John Corso. He was in the front passenger seat and one of the three GlobalLock security force agents escorting Rebecca to the Central Bank of Iraq. He had the arms of a bodybuilder and the head of a bulldog.

      “Safeties off,” ordered Gregory Hansen, who was sitting next to Rebecca. He was the leader of the team. Hansen was smaller than the rest but his powerful nature had no problem asserting authority.

      All of the men had their MP5s in hand. The sound of clicking metal fought against the rumble of the vehicle. Rebecca looked to the submachine gun in Hansen's lap and then up to his face. He winked at her and said, “All set, honey?” He was a brash and brutish man. One had to be in order to do what he did each day.

      “I'm as ready as I'll ever be,” Rebecca said and then looked away.

      “And you know what you're looking for?” Hansen asked. “You're certain you'll recognize it?”

      There was no way to be certain. No one living had ever seen it before. But she knew enough. “I'm certain.”

      “Good,” Hansen said and then crumbled a stick of gum into his mouth. He chomped at it like a ten year old.

      Rebecca sighed and thought: This is the moment. She was going to find it. Her organization had been searching for it ever since one of the senior members determined that it was inside the lost Nimrud Treasure. Rebecca knew the Assyrian capital of Nimrud was discovered in the late nineteenth century and all of the pieces retrieved from the site were transported to Baghdad and stored at the National Museum. The artifacts were documented, cataloged and then disappeared mysteriously right before the beginning of the war. Locating the treasure had been her quest—My mission. And now the search was over. All of the questions and doubts her organization had over the authenticity of its most quested prize would be answered if she succeeded. I will succeed. There was no doubt in her mind.

      Doubt was saved for her relationship with William.

      Rebecca caught site of her faint reflection in the window and noticed that her dyed black hair was exposed. She hated the color. Black hair wasn't something she could get used to. It wasn't natural. It wasn't Rebecca Badeau. I want to be me again. She tugged on the scarf until it covered her hair line. I'll get my life back. She was positive about that. The question was whether it would include William.

The Hummer came to a fast halt amongst the pileup of cars on the unruly road. The whole city was in disorder after the fall of Sadam's Ba'ath party and the dismantling of the Iraqi Republican Guard. The first things to go were the traffic laws.

      The bank was just ahead. The driver pulled the Hummer to the shoulder and jumped the damaged curb. They drove on the sidewalk and through a courtyard in order to avoid the unnecessary wait. That was one of the things Rebecca learned about Hansen and his men: they hated to wait.

      The Central Bank of Iraq was a peculiar looking building with virtually no windows or discerning features outside of its boxy build. “That's the bank?” Rebecca asked in disbelief.

      “That's what the GPS says,” confirmed Corso.

      Before the Hummer came to a complete stop, Hansen and Corso exploded out and began securing the area. Rebecca stayed inside along with the driver until they were given the okay to exit. The potential for opposition was considered high. Protecting Rebecca was the team's top priority.

      “All clear,” crackled Hansen's voice over the radio fixed to the dashboard.

      That was Rebecca's cue.

      She opened the door and dashed toward the entrance. The driver stayed behind and kept the engine running.

      Rebecca made it through the door and saw four terrified Iraqi civilians face first on the ground. Their hands and feet were stretched outward like the Vitruvian Man. Footsteps echoed down one of the halls and Rebecca heard distant shouting. Hansen took her by the arm and directed her toward Corso, who was already securing a hall. “Go!”

      Even though Rebecca had on a Kevlar vest and helmet, she was scared out of her mind. She thought she was prepared for the moment, but apparently preparation couldn't stave off her fear.

      Corso took her by the arm and told her to kneel. Hansen came rushing past and slid to a halt at the corner of the hall. He shouted, “ON THE GROUND! ON THE GROUND!” and then released a burst of bullets out of view. Rebecca covered her ears from the intense reverb. A moment later, Hansen ran toward where he shot and shouted out, “CLEAR!”

      “Go!” Corso ordered.

      Rebecca rose and ran around the corner. She nearly lost her footing as she avoided two moaning bodies lying in pools of blood. There were two AK-47s kicked up against the wall. Rebecca tried not to look down as she ran past. Hansen was standing at an elevator, engaging it with a key card given to him by the person who leaked the information about the Nimrud Treasure. The elevator doors slid open just in time for Rebecca's arrival. The two of them went inside. As the doors closed, Hansen radioed the driver and said, “Call in the calvary.”

      Everything was going as planned.

      The elevator dropped for about ten seconds before gliding to a stop. Rebecca knew that they probably had less than twenty minutes to get what they wanted and get out before the U.S. Military arrived.

      They were the calvary.

      If things went off course, and Hansen’s team found themselves cornered inside the bank, the U.S. Military would bail them out. The goal, however, was to be gone before then.

      The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Before them was a long hall with several vaulted doors. It was the one at the end that they wanted. Hansen removed another set of keys and entered each one into the slots along the side of the door. The lock disengaged. Rebecca pushed the door open and then Hansen shoved her aside. He cleared the room before allowing her to enter.

      What Rebecca found inside was nothing short of spectacular.

      She quickly ran through aisles upon aisles of artifacts; searching for her prize. There were shelves lined with statues, pots, bowls, dishes, ceramics, papyrus and jewelry. It was in the papyrus section that she knew she would find her treasure. There were several glass cases that held carefully protected bundles of papyrus documents. Normally Rebecca would carefully unlock the case and extract the fragile paper, but today was the exception. Rebecca grabbed a stone carved statue and smashed through the glass in the case. Hansen came around the aisle to survey what happened. Rebecca pulled out three bundles and removed the protective wrapping from each. After quickly examining them, none of the bundles were what she was looking for.

      “Hurry up,” Hansen urged.

      Rebecca ignored him and removed two more. She unwrapped the first one and felt her heart skip. “Oh my God! I think this is it!”

      “Are you sure?” Hansen said as he drew closer.

      Rebecca looked it over and then nodded. “Yes!”

      She opened the second bundle and saw that it was not related. Should I keep looking for more? Her heart pounded. Keep looking. You have to be certain.

      “What are you doing?” Hansen said as she pulled more bundles out.

      Rebecca opened each but found nothing that resembled what she was looking for. “Okay. I'm done!” Rebecca scooped up the bundle and resealed it.

      “Alright,” Hansen said victoriously.

      The two of them ran back to the elevator.

      While it rose to the surface, Hansen called to Corso and the driver. He said, “Target acquired. Let's get the hell out of here.”

      The doors opened at ground level and the two of them ran out into the hall. Hansen cleared it again and Rebecca followed. They ran past the two bodies on the ground. Neither made noise this time.

      Corso was still in position, surveying the lobby where the four Iraqi civilians were sprawled out. Corso waved Rebecca and Hansen past and then he took up the rear. Hansen led Rebecca out of the building and straight for the idling Hummer. Rebecca followed closely behind. Once they were inside the car, she saw that Corso was only twenty yards behind. He climbed into the front passenger seat and before he could close the door they were out of there.

      Rebecca exhaled a long sigh of relief as she looked at the bundle of ancient papyrus safely secured in her arms. She couldn't believe it was finally over. Hansen looked down at the bundle as well and said, “You're certain this is it?”

      “Without a doubt,” Rebecca replied and smiled. “Without a doubt.”

      “Then I guess you're going home.”

      Rebecca's smile maintained as she said, “Yeah, I guess so.” Just one more thing to do.

Thirty minutes later, William Coulee was lying on the floor of his Palestine Hotel room, filing stories he wrote earlier that week, when Rebecca rushed inside and quickly told him that she needed to leave Iraq. There was no Hello or How's it going, Rebecca simply blurted out, “I have to get packed. I just found out that my ticket home is leaving tonight!”

      William could barely move. He just stared at her inquisitively. “What are you talking about?” There was a strange excitement in Rebecca's eyes, the kind he recognized whenever something extraordinary occurred. But before he had a chance to inquire, Rebecca pulled out her gym bags and began packing.

      “I was just told that my team is leaving tonight. And if I wanted out of the country, now is the time.”

      It was paralyzing news.

      William was still trying to digest the seriousness of the situation.

      Rebecca paused in her packing and went to her knees next to him. With all sincerity she said, “I want you to come with me. I have two tickets. We can leave, tonight! We can begin all the things we've talked about. We can actually start our life together.”

      William reeled from her assertiveness. “Hang on,” he said while trying to slow down her excitement. “What the hell is going on? What happened out there? Why do you have to leave tonight?”

      Rebecca looked lost for an explanation. The few rays of light that managed to escape the mattress shielding the sliding glass doors had cast a shadow over her face. She blew a few loose strands of dyed black hair aside and said, “A lot has happened. There's really no time to explain. The team is waiting for me and they're not patient.”

      “You want me to leave right now and you can't even explain why?”

      “I can explain,” Rebecca stammered, “but there really is no time. I just”—the words barely escaped—“have to leave. I can't stay here anymore. I have to go. Right now. I want you to come with me. Please, Will.”

      William could see the awful conflict in her eyes and took her hands into his. “Rebecca, you have to tell me what the hell is happening. I have to understand.”

      “I can't explain it!” she blurted out. “If you want to know then you have to come. I love you William!”

      A long silence fell between them. “I love you too,” he said quietly. There was no question. It was love at first sight when they met. William felt lightning jolt his body that day inside the Baghdad museum. It wasn't fair how quickly she smashed the defenses around his heart. He was hers for the taking—and Rebecca took. But with that said, William also loved his career and it was just starting.

      William looked deep into Rebecca's eyes and saw sadness grow inside.

      “You’re not coming,” Rebecca said after the realization settled.

      “I just don’t understand what’s going on,” William said in defense.

      “I have to leave, Will. I thought we were going to leave together. You told me you would leave too.”

      “I know that,” he said, frustrated. “But I don’t understand why it’s happening now.”

      “What's not to get,” Rebecca said. She threw her hands up. “I can’t live here anymore! This place is a nightmare! People are dying everywhere! I have to leave. There’s an opportunity tonight, I have to take it.”

      The place was a nightmare, and growing worse with each passing day. William understood it better than she did. He lived in the thick of it. He made an internal promise to never tell her everything he saw each day. The sights and sounds were enough to make the toughest men cry.

      Ever since meeting Rebecca, William's apprehension for her safety haunted him day and night. He wanted her to go and be safe. All he had to do was say so. “Then I think you should go.”

      “Come with me!” she practically shouted. Her eyes were demanding his acceptance. William wanted to go, to be with her back in the States, but he knew he couldn’t—or better said—wouldn’t. He sighed and rolled back into a sitting position with his hands draped over his knees. “I want to Rebecca. I do.”

      “Why don’t you, then?”

      “Because my work is here! You know that. My stories make up Time's cover. I have a network of informants who depend on me, who feed me information. They risk everything for me. If I leave, they will have nothing. They depend on the money I pay them.” The conflict in his heart angered his mind. “Damnit! I stayed when everyone else left. I have the foothold on the war. No one else has what I have!”

      Rebecca’s eyes glistened as she stared motionlessly.

      William settled a moment and said, “Listen,”—he kissed her hands—“I’m in love with you. I want you to be safe. I want you to leave. I won’t be too far behind. This war won’t last much longer. Saddam’s army is done. He’s hiding. The only fighting that’s happening now is between the religious factions. It will settle out soon and then I’m out of here.” He slid his hands over her arms and kissed her lips. “I just want you to be safe.”

      Rebecca pulled away and wiped her eyes. “You really think this thing is going to be over soon? This war will be drawn out for years. Don’t you know anything about these people?”

      William didn’t answer.

      “Well I do. And let me tell you something, nothing happens quickly. The Sunnis, the Shiites, they don’t easily forget. Neither will rest until the other is completely gone. If you think you will be out of here before the end of the year, then you have rude awakening coming.” Tears made lines down her cheeks. “I’m scared for you, William. I don’t think you understand what’s happening here. And worse, I don’t think you'll follow me.”

      “I’m going to be okay,” he tried to assure her. “I can take care of myself. You’re the one I’m worried about.”

      Rebecca wiped both eyes and turned away. “They’re waiting for me.”

      “They’re down there right now? Your escorts?”

      Rebecca nodded and said, “Gregory is,” and then grabbed the bags.

      It was a relief. William knew Hansen was rough around the edges but he also knew him to be incredibly well trained and quite cool under pressure. He was the kind of guy anyone would want on his or her side—not against.

      William removed Rebecca's hands from the bags and said, “I’ll take them down.”

      Rebecca sniffled and nodded. William went into the quiet hall while Rebecca came to the door and then stopped. “Wait,” she said suddenly.

      “What’s wrong?”

      “I forgot something—my necklace.”

      It was her late mother’s necklace, the one recovered from the ashes of the World Trade Center. William knew there was no leaving without it. “Okay. I’ll wait by the stairs.” He watched her turn back into the room. He lugged the bags over to the stairs at the end of the hall and placed them on the ground. Where did I see it last, William wondered. He visualized the necklace on the bedside table that served as the catch all for personal items, which reminded him that his watch was still there. He wondered what time it was when a whistling noise became audible from outside the building.

      The hallway erupted with wooden shrapnel and plaster.

      The sound was deafening.

      Before William had the chance to process what occurred, his body was tossed down the stairs and onto the landing below.

      Blackness ensued.

A few minutes passed before he woke amongst the carnage that used to be the fifth floor of the Palestine Hotel. There were cries from people trapped in their rooms and shouts from others trying to get up the mangled stairs to help. William pulled himself free from the debris and staggered against the metal rail still fastened to the wall. His body burned from cuts and gashes, but was wholly intact. His head spun out of control while he tried to balance himself. What the hell just happened? He knew the cause had to be a bomb or rocket, but it happened so quickly that the aftereffect was disorienting. William always imagined he would experience a blast one day, however it was still quite surreal.

      His nostrils filled with the smell of sulfur.

      And then his mind was filled with horror. “REBECCA!” he shouted.

      William trudged through the carnage on the stairs and into the exposed hallway. The view was unimaginable. The destruction was focused right around where his hotel room once existed, where Rebecca was. He called out for her again but it was no use. The fire alarms in the building were echoing from every corner. William stepped over large chunks of drywall and plaster. He slid down a pile of rubble and into the gaping hole where his room once was. The smashed doorway stood independently in front of a wide-open view of the Baghdad skyline. William cried out Rebecca’s name once more. There was no sign of her. It was then that he knew the truth of the situation. His heart was filled with terrible sorrow.

      Rebecca Badeau: the love he never expected—the love of his life—was dead.