Mary knew all this—they spoke often. Yet knowing that she would see him in this condition, and soon, within the next day or two, minced her. Her feelings were about to emerge from the cold storage she’d had to force them into to get through the training. She looked out the car window. They were on heading west toward Tysons, and, sure enough, they took the exit for the shopping mall. They ended up passing it, though, and turning into the parking garage of an office building that looked, for all she tried not to see it that way, like a toilet seat. There was an Applebee’s on the first floor.

To her surprise, Halliday led her toward the restaurant. She thought he’d turn for the building lobby, but he pushed through the taproom door into the smell of lager and fries. The hostess seemed to know Halliday, and at that hour, almost three before lunchtime, it was empty except for a table in the back with a customer drinking from a white mug that shone out from the bearish dark. Jeff pointed at the man, shook her hand, wished her luck, and said, “Don’t let him scare you. He’s a lot nicer than he gives off.”

She walked to him; his back was to her. It seemed strange that he would sit that way, and it forced her to insert herself into a narrow space between him and the next booth. It placed her hips dab in his face. This was about to make her angry, just a touch, but then he stood up to make room for her. At first she recognized him from her dream life, but in moments it came to her: he was the man at the embassy in Kabul. Her reaction was suspicion, and he caught it—“We meet again,” he said in military laconic. “I apologize for taking advantage in Kabul.”

“Advantage?”

“I got a look at you before you knew why I wanted one.”

Something was going on for him, something he was easy about suppressing, but she could sense it, a thin whistle at the edge of her hearing.

She would have liked a cup of coffee, and he seemed to read that, because he turned around, and the hostess saw him. He pointed at the cup—“You’d like some coffee?” he said to Mary.

“Please.”

He raised two fingers to the woman, and they talked weather and chitchat until the coffee arrived. She drank it black, which wasn’t her favorite way, but she worried that diluting it suggested mildness she didn’t want to convey. Then she noticed that his cup was blond, and after the hostess had warmed it, he poured in more milk and an envelope of sugar.

“Look,” he said, noticing her noticing. “You have no reason to pretend with me. And,” he added, “that uniform isn’t necessary from here on out.”