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Filed under: Imported

I can no longer tell.

A few days later Chalabi called up in the middle of the night to say he had a present. His "Battalion 316," the covert Iraqi police unit John had had the agency guys train, had finally accomplished its mission. We drove out to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Baghdad. Inside were the bodies of 20 Iraqi men, lined up side by side, all with bullet holes in their heads. They had monobrows and bushy mustaches, but they were all dressed in identical black and white Catholic habits. They looked suspiciously like the Shia workers we had supplied Chalabi to handle the domestic service duties in his mansion.