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Plus, the TFG and AMISOM units got distracted watching over each other as well.
    There was little trust left in Somalia. The al-Shabaab were believed to be funding the pirates that captured international ships and held them for ransom. Even if that were not true, the Islamist faction still raided the city and left decapitated citizens in their wake as a message.
    Daud quietly regarded the men for a moment. They claimed to be al-Shabaab, and he had no reason to doubt them, but he knew they were truly there merely to rob him. He was a man alone in the city. “I have only a little money.”
    “I do not believe you.” The leader cocked his head. “Your shoes say you have money.”
    Daud resisted the impulse to look down. He had deliberately chosen worn clothing, but he’d been loath to jettison the hiking boots. Somalia was rough country. A person had to have a four-wheel-drive vehicle to get around. Traveling the land on foot was no easier.
    Now it looked as though his boots might be the death of him.
    Reluctantly, Daud reached into his pockets and pulled out a thick wad of paper Somali shillings. The paper currency was almost worthless in the present economy. Buying a loaf of bread took a fistful of banknotes.
    The man in the passenger seat climbed out and stepped forward. Daud resisted the impulse to smash the man’s facein when he came to a stop in front of him. Such an action would only get him killed. Perhaps the young man with the rifle might not respond quickly enough or accurately enough, but the driver would. Daud was certain the man already had a hand on a pistol beneath the jeep’s dashboard. At this distance, he would not miss.
    The leader took the currency from Daud and quickly riffled through it. The bundle held a mixture of old notes and new, and even some of the Canadian notes that had been brought into the country when the Transitional National Government had been formed in 2000. The influx of additional monies had almost bankrupted Somalia. The people of Mogadishu had revolted and forced the TNG to buy back the foreign currency.
    Smiling coldly, the leader shoved the bills into his shirt pocket. “This isn’t the money I was referring to. I want the real money.”
    Daud didn’t try to hide his subterfuge. He had prepared for this as well. He reached into his other pocket and brought out the thin sheaf of American money he had hoarded for his trip to Mogadishu.
    The leader stared at him suspiciously. He flipped his thumb idly over the money. “American bills. Where did you get these?”
    “I sold personal belongings. A computer. Some jewelry.” His wife no longer had need of her wedding rings or the other things he’d bought her during their marriage. He’d still felt guilty about not putting those things into her grave with her, but he’d needed money if he and his son were to survive.Then, after his son had died, Daud had needed the money to get supplies, information, and a pistol. He was going to survive, and he would recognize few friends and few allies.
    “Liar.” The word cut the air like a bullet.
    Daud stood quietly in front of the man. “I am telling you the truth.”
    “The American CIA pays our people to spy on their brothers.”
    “I am no spy.”
    “I do not believe you.”
    “I am sorry, but that is the best answer I can give you. Months ago, I was a businessman. The attacks within the city killed my wife and son.” Daud felt the wetness gathering in his eyes, and it surprised him. He’d felt certain he had no more tears left. But he told the truth so the man could sense no falsehood. “My business was destroyed. I sold what I had left.”
    “And you did not leave the country?”
    Daud shrugged. “Where would I go? This place has always been my home.”
    The man waggled the American currency. “I do not believe this is all the money you have.”
    Daud stood still and silent.
    “Give me the rest of it.”
    “There is—”
    The man moved more quickly than Daud would