Next I tried Frank’s parking-lot move. I left Nordstrom’s and walked out across the wide-open space of the lot. I figured only one member of the surveillance team would follow me, but which one? Off to the left, I saw a big truck that would shield me from view. I ducked behind it, waited a few moments, and then sprinted toward the distant corner of the lot. Behind me, far in the distance, I saw the black man who had been trying on shoes, walking quickly in my direction. He had to be one of them, too. I headed back toward the mall, passing him on the way. “Howdy,” I said. He glowered at me. I wrote a brief description of him in my notebook.

The third was the hardest to identify. I crisscrossed the mall, stopping in bookstores, pet stores, optometrists, lingerie stores, toy stores. I kept looking for the odd man out—the person who didn’t fit, or whom I’d seen elsewhere. But I was striking out. I even tried Frank’s trick of dropping pieces of paper into possible hiding places, but nobody fell for the bait. It was past 11:00 and I was already hungry. A Taco Bell was up ahead, and I thought how good a burrito would taste, especially if I failed to meet my quota and was denied lunch. But as I was standing in line I considered how Frank would berate me for breaking the rules, and decided to order a cup of coffee.

While I sipped the coffee it occurred to me I hadn’t tried Frank’s elevator trick. I found the main elevator block and pressed the “up” button. By the time the car arrived I had been joined by a half-dozen people. One of them had to be shadowing me. I studied each of them carefully, trying to match them with people I’d seen elsewhere in the mall. My eyes settled on a dark-haired man standing in a corner. He was wearing dark glasses, a red windbreaker and jeans. I sensed I’d seen him before, but not like that. And then it was obvious: he was the man in the business suit I’d approached at Nordstrom’s, asking directions. He’d changed clothes. I made a third notation in my book and went outside to find my instructor.

Frank was waiting in his Chevy Impala. He was reading the racing form and circling horses he liked at Charles Town that night. “Come on!” he barked. As soon as I was in the car, he popped it in gear and drove off.

I described the three surveillants I’d been able to discover during the exercise, and gave him a brief explanation of how I’d spotted each of them. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as I’d hoped. In fact, he seemed angry. “So where are we going to lunch?” I asked. But he was still glowering at me.