“Good,” said Nemo. “All you need to do is learn how to hold the damn thing still and look like you’re planning to shoot. The last thing we want is for someone inexperienced to start firing.”

“And I suppose Patton has plenty of experience after her career as . . . What was it?” said Ruthie.

“Intelligence systems analyst,” said Patton. “I joined a few months after Boston, and yes, I have some experience with firearms.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” said Ruthie. “Why didn’t you write or call or anything?”

“It was the army,” said Patton “The United States Army. I don’t know what it’s like in England but this was during the days of ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell,’ so I wasn’t about to reach out to a former lover.”

“You thought if you sent me a postcard the army would find out you were a lesbian?”

“Tell her why you’re not in the army anymore,” said Nemo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” said Patton.

“Yeah, I would, actually. If I’m going into a firefight with somebody, I’d like to know why they left the military. I need to know I can trust you not to . . . to lose it.”

“You think I got crippling PTSD and they booted me out?” said Patton.

“I just want to know I can count on you under pressure,” said Nemo.

“I would think that after the sniper fire in Alta Vista you’d be able to answer that question,” said Patton.

“OK, OK, don’t tell us,” said Nemo. He turned his head just long enough to catch Ruthie’s eye in the back seat. “She’s a secret keeper, this one,” he said.

“I’d noticed,” said Ruthie.

“Look,” said Patton, “are we going to play-psychoanalyze Patton Harcourt, or are we going to put an end to Ingrid Weiss’s quest for Aryan supremacy?”

“Fine, we’ll change the subject,” said Nemo. “So you two were lovers?”

“Oh, just drive the car,” said Patton.

They had a few hours until dark and a few more until the occupants of Columbia House could be counted upon to depart, so Nemo decided that rest and food were in order. He stopped at a grocery and stocked up on cheese, salami, fruit, bread, and bottled water, then drove into Munich and parked in a parking garage. With the tinted windows, no one would know that they spent the next few hours in the van, eating, dozing, and, in Patton’s case, trying not to remember that day in Kandahar. Dark, enclosed spaces tended to trigger flashbacks.