THE GRENADE WAS VISIBLE WHEN THE INSURGENT STEPPED IN FRONT of our car. His sinewy arm was cocked, ready to throw. Fifteen more men poured out from the corner of a nearby tenement, swirling about the car like angry floodwaters. They brandished grenades and AK-47s, pistol grips nudging out from under the folds of their shirts. Spotting me in the backseat, they went into a frenzy, yanking on the handles of the doors, thumping the window with the grenades. Across Iraq, the insurgents have gone on a kidnapping spree, seizing Italian aid workers, French journalists and American construction workers. As they...
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