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Howe ended up at a diner, thinking things through. Halfway through his first cup of coffee he decided it had to be just a computer glitch. He called Meile and left a message, asking her to get back to him; he did the same with Delano. The second cup of coffee made him suspicious once more and he made a call to a friend of his who worked in the Joint Chiefs of Staff J2 intelligence section and asked for some background on how the clearance system worked, explaining what had happened. His friend told him mistakes were certainly possible, though the circumstances seemed odd. The fact that he hadn’t been notified argued for a mistake. But his friend had no way of finding out why the clearance had been cut, and he was too busy today to hunt around. Howe thanked him anyway. He was just hitting the End button on his cell phone when Andy Fisher came into the diner and walked over to his booth.

“Colonel Howe. How’s the coffee?”

“Andy Fisher. What are you up to?”

“Looking for you,” said the FBI agent, sliding into the booth.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the waitress coming over. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“Don’t those laws annoy you?” asked Fisher.

The waitress was unmoved. Fisher asked for a cup of coffee but made no sign of extinguishing the cigarette.

“You’re looking for me?” Howe asked.

“All morning,” said Fisher.

“What for?”

The waitress reappeared with two coffee cups: one filled with coffee, and one with water to extinguish the cigarette.

“I heard you took a trip overseas,” said Fisher as the waitress walked away.

“I can’t talk about that,” said Howe.

“Sure you can. My clearance is higher than yours.”

You don’t know how true that is, thought Howe.

“Obviously, I already know about Korea,” said Fisher.

Howe didn’t answer.

“Look, Colonel, I can get the paperwork and the official orders to make you spill the beans if I have to, but what’s the sense?” asked Fisher. “Making me spend the whole day chasing down my boss, the military liaison, the NSC people-you know how many cups of coffee that’s going to take?”

“Let’s go for a ride,” Howe suggested. “We can’t talk here.”

It was the sort of deal Fisher appreciated: straightforward tit-for-tat, no strings. Howe would tell him everything he knew without making him go through the bureaucratic rigmarole to get proper authorization. In exchange, Fisher would use his wiles to find out who had pulled his clearance.

“It’s not that I don’t trust the people I’m asking already,” Howe told him. “I just want to make sure.”

“Oh, I get it,” said Fisher, who was now curious himself to find out who was screwing Howe and why.

As it turned out, though, Howe’s description of what had happened in Korea and Japan gave Fisher no more insight than what Kowalski had told him.

“Had to be somebody very, very important,” said Fisher. “Close to the top. Somebody the military would know.”

“A general or somebody?”

“At least.” Fisher’s list of missing North Korean leaders was extensive and started with Kim Jong Il himself.

“Thing that bugs me is why they didn’t kill you when they had the chance,” said Fisher. “He just knocked you out.”

Howe shrugged. “I made him get rid of his gun.”

“Probably had another one. Or he should have. Sets this up so carefully-probably covered a dozen bases with people-then doesn’t kill you? You sure there isn’t a deposit in a bank account somewhere I ought to know about?”

“Fuck you,” said Howe.

“What did he hit you with?”

“I didn’t see.”

“What’s the doctor say?”

“Something hard.”

“Big or small?”

“Hard.”

“Maybe it was a gun that couldn’t fire,” suggested Fisher. “It jammed or something. Maybe it was your lucky day.”

“I guess.”

Howe was the touchy type; the bank account question still bugged him. Most likely he thought his honor besmirched. Tough to live like that around here, thought Fisher, though it wasn’t useful to point out.

“You don’t believe in luck, Colonel?” Fisher asked.

“Not hardly.”

“Luck is greatly undervalued in America. Except by people who play the lottery.” Fisher took a puff of his cigarette. “I would lay money that they’re looking for you now.”

“Why?”

“Because you can identify who it was who got away.”

“I can’t,” said Howe. “I’ve already looked at all sorts of pictures. The debriefers had me do that at the embassy.”

“Yeah, but the bad guy doesn’t know that. You being followed?”

Howe twisted his head to look. “Am I?”

“I don’t think so. Let me off up there.” He pointed to a convenience store just ahead.

“What about your car?”

“Ah, it’s a Bureau car, don’t worry about it,” said Fisher. “You’re not going back to the diner, are you?”

“I’ll take you back if you want.”

“Actually, I don’t,” said Fisher.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Howe stopped the car. Fisher dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Day or night, you call me,” he said, tapping his satellite phone. “This sucker always rings.”

“You’re going to keep your end of the bargain, right?”

“I will. One more favor,” added Fisher.

“What?”

“You see my boss, don’t give him the number. Okay? I’m pretty sure the paperwork on it got lost before it made his desk.”