Gone Tomorrow

screwed up . But Sansom never mentioned either the ruminant animals or their attendant agricultural personnel, which was a big point in his favor.
    In fact, he didn’t mention much of anything. Certainly not a whole lot in the success column. There was what must have been fairly routine stuff in West Africa, plus Panama, plus some SCUD hunting in Iraq during the first Gulf War in 1991. Apart from that, nothing. Just a lot of training and standing by, which was always followed by standing down and then more training. His was maybe the first unexaggerated Special Forces memoir that I had ever seen. More than that, even. Not just unexaggerated. It was downplayed. Minimized, and de-emphasized. Dressed down, not up.
    Which was interesting.

Chapter 18
    I took a lot of care getting back to the coffee shop on Eighth. Our principal brought a whole crew . And by now they all knew roughly what I looked like. The Radio Shack guy had told me how pictures and video could be phoned through from one person to another. For my part I had no idea what the opposition looked like, but if their principal had been forced to hire guys in nice suits as local camouflage, then his own crew probably looked somewhat different themselves. Otherwise, no point. I saw lots of different-looking people. Maybe a couple hundred thousand. You always do, in New York City. But none of them showed any interest in me. None of them stayed with me. Not that I made it easy. I took the 4 train to Grand Central, walked two circuits through the crowds, took the shuttle to Times Square, walked a long and illogical loop from there to Ninth Avenue, and came on the diner from the west, straight past the 14th Precinct.
    Jacob Mark was already inside.
    He was in a back booth, cleaned up, hair brushed, wearing dark pants and a white shirt and a navy windbreaker. He could have had off-duty cop tattooed across his forehead. He looked unhappy but not frightened. I slid in opposite him and sat sideways, so I could watch the street through the windows.
    “Did you talk to Peter?” I asked him.
    He shook his head.
    “But?”
    “I think he’s OK.”
    “You think or you know?”
    He didn’t answer, because the waitress came by. The same woman from the morning. I was too hungry to be sensitive about whether or not Jake was going to eat. I ordered a big platter, tuna salad with eggs and a bunch of other stuff. Plus coffee to drink. Jake followed my lead and got a grilled cheese sandwich and water.
    I said, “Tell me what happened.”
    He said, “The campus cops helped me out. They were happy to. Peter’s a football star. He wasn’t home. So they rousted his buddies and got the story. Turns out Peter is away somewhere with a woman.”
    “Where?”
    “We don’t know.”
    “What woman?”
    “A girl from a bar. Peter and the guys were out four nights ago. The girl was in the place. Peter left with her.”
    I said nothing.
    Jake said, “What?”
    I asked, “Who picked up who?”
    He nodded. “This is what makes me feel OK. He did all the work. His buddies said it was a four-hour project. He had to put everything into it. Like a championship game, the guys said. So it wasn’t Mata Hari or anything.”
    “Description?”
    “A total babe. And these are jocks talking, so they mean it. A little older, but not much. Maybe twenty-five or -six. You’re a college senior, that’s an irresistible challenge, right there.”
    “Name?”
    Jake shook his head. “The others kept their distance. It’s an etiquette thing.”
    “Their regular place?”
    “On their circuit.”
    “Hooker? Decoy?”
    “No way. These guys get around. They ain’t dumb. They can tell. And Peter did all the work, anyway. Four hours, everything he had ever learned.”
    “It would have been over in four minutes if she had wanted it to be.”
    Jake nodded again. “Believe me, I’ve been through it a hundred times. Any funny business, an hour would have been enough to make it look kosher. Two, tops. Nobody would stretch it to four. So it’s OK. More than OK, from Peter’s point of view. Four days with a total babe? What were you doing when you were twenty-two?”
    “I hear you,” I said. When I was twenty-two I had the same kind of priorities. Although a four-day relationship would have seemed long to me. Practically like engagement, or marriage.
    Jake said, “But?”
    “Susan was delayed four hours on the Turnpike. I’m wondering what kind of a deadline could have passed, to make a mother