In the month or two they were in Baghdad, Jamal and Matt acquainted themselves with hundreds of buildings in the city's tonier districts. They used crowbars, C4 explosive, and a big set of bolt cutters referred to as the master key to gain entry into the palace storehouses and the former homes of Saddam's inner circle. They obtained what was needed-water, mattresses, mops, hedge clippers, air conditioners, light switches, wiring, lamps. The commander wanted computers; Matt found computers. Not crap computers, either. Sony flatscreen monitors, Intel Pentium 4 processors, and DVD drives. The rule was: Whatever you can use, you can take. And that is a rule that can be applied liberally.

The palace complex was a monument to excess, a repository for the glut of stuff Saddam and his minions had stolen from the Kuwaitis, his own people, what he'd hoarded under the auspices of the oil-for-food program. Cash, cellophane bags filled with heroin and hashish, Kuwaiti royal china. Matt drove around in Saddam's armored Mercedes. Climbed aboard Uday's yacht. He requisitioned gold toilet seats. Bidets. Gilt mirrors.Johnnie Walker Red, Black, Blue, Gold, every label they make. There were crates of it. Matt and Jamal dried off with monogrammed towels and slept on Uday's satin sheets. Matt carried a sweet chrome nine-millimeter in the small of his back; Jamal was partial to a long-nosed.357 that looked like something Dirty Harry might consider too ostentatious.There was so much stuff to be had that people didn't really get greedy. First come, first served. [Given what happens later, it's likely Matt is playing up the moral vacuum that existed then. Most of the stuff he acquired in Baghdad and in the months leading up to the war had legitimate purposes and was procured through proper channels. But he's not lying about this shadier stuff. "Yes, that kind of thing was being done," says Major Kent Rideout, the man who would investigate Matt Novak. "It was considered war booty, and there were no regulations put forth on what could and could not be taken home." Officially, the Pentagon has since produced a document that dictates the rules and procedures for the procurement of acceptable war trophies-uniforms, insignia, patches, rucksacks, load-bearing equipment, flags, photos. But the lines get pretty blurry on the ground. Soldiers helping themselves to spoils is a phenomenon roughly as old as people fighting each other.There was a time commanders didn't pay their armies except with the promise of fruitful pillaging. See Conan the Barbarian for reference. Or, in effect, the Civil War. Isn't the basic rule of military action that once you beat someone, their shit is your shit? Isn't that how we got, say, Montana? Isn't part of the reason colonialism is considered impolite is that it's an extension of the war-trophy rule to the nation-state level? Isn't that a large part of what pisses some people off, rightly or wrongly, about our Iraqi adventure? Isn't there a serious debate about whether we're after democracy or cheap oil-or, more likely, don't we believe in the convenient truth that we get both for the same low, though seriously rising, price?]

Jamal had an acronym for their mission in Iraq: STAR-steal, trade, acquisition, requisition. One of the medics told Matt,"Man, when you get back to the States, they're going to have to send you to stealers anonymous or something. You're gonna need help, dude!" In Baghdad, Matt earned a reputation as the best supply sergeant in the battalion, possibly in the entire Third ID. He was the go-to guy.

The Iraqis called us Ali Baba. We protected the oil ministry while the city was looted. We took what we wanted.

On April 18, Matt's platoon sergeant, Kenneth Buff, is out with another sergeant, rooting around the Green Zone for saws to trim some trees when he comes across a small building with bricked-over windows and doors. Inside he finds ninety galvanized-steel boxes, and in each box there is four million dollars in American currency. Then one day he was shootin' at some food, and up from the ground came a-bubbling crude. They notify command and, as far as anyone knows, they turn in every dollar they found. [Which physically hurts almost every enlisted man who hears about it. Are you fucking kidding me? You dumb-ass!] Buff doesn't get any money, but he was interviewed by Fox News that very afternoon. It is, to say the least, an unexpected event. Saddam was not supposed to have American currency. The Third ID was expecting to find mobile chemical-weapons labs, not buildings stuffed to the rafters with $100 bills.

After chow that day, Matt and Jamal go find Sergeant Buff at headquarters and pump him for information. They feel a certain proprietorship for the contraband of the Green Zone. It was Jamal's idea to seek out Buff, and he just conceded to get him to shut up about it. Jamal wasn't looking to steal money; he just wanted to find some so he could get on TV. [Jamal was given an honorable discharge and now works installing cable for Cablevision. "I didn't give a shit about being on the news," he says. "That was a story we worked out.We should have just took the money and left." Jamal and Matt like each other immensely and speak highly of each other, but they still don't have their stories straight.] Buff gets in their truck, and the three of them drive over to see where he found the money.The building looks like a maintenance shack for the municipal water company-squat, cinder block, just a few feet off the road, windows bricked over. While they are driving through the area, they see several other buildings that look the same and that appear to be untouched.

It's hard to pinpoint the first stupid move the Novak Eight made, because it's hard to pinpoint a single not-stupid move they made. Maybe it's after Matt and Jamal had gone to look at the buildings with Buff and decided to ditch their truck and ask a specialist named Emanuel to drive them in his Humvee. Because then Lieutenant Greenley and Private Moyer walk over, asking if they could come along, too (sure, pile in). That initial widening of the cast: not good. ["Shoulda just been me and Sergeant Matt, late at night," Jamal says. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."] Or maybe it's a beat later, as they're driving out of the parking lot and someone asks where they're going and someone says,"To look for some money." The first rule of stealing twelve million dollars is not:Tell everyone what you're doing.

When the five of them get to the building, Matt takes a tanker's bar (like a crowbar, only bigger), climbs on the roof, and starts working on the bricked-over door, only to lose his grip, fall off the building, and land on his back. Jamal and Moyer finish the job, and the whole wall comes down in one piece onto the roadway, sounding like C4 charges going off.Which doesn't attract a whole lot of attention, since you hear stuff like that every twenty minutes in Baghdad. Behind the brick is a door, sealed with a lock and dated in Arabic, just like the door on Buff 's building. Matt breaks the glass, starts pulling out shards, and slices his hand open. It is like his body is forcibly trying to keep him out of that building and keeps sabotaging itself, throwing itself off roofs and trying to cut off appendages.

Matt had been a medic, and he knows by looking: This was a bleeder. Maybe this was the first mistake.A liter of DNA: not recommended for crime scenes. He wraps his hand in a mop head he finds under a sink, and they break through another door. Lieutenant Greenley is outside shouting orders, behaving as if being outside the building gives him plausible deniability. Like you go to jail only if you're in the same room as the crime. He is the ranking officer, after all, and he is in charge simply by being present. [This is how Greenley would play things, with only one foot in. He never decided whether he was a disapproving observer or a conspirator. So for the thirty-six hours before the entire thing unraveled, he tried to be both.]