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“Beautiful girl. Seems to be a chip off her old man’s block.”
    A funny look passed over Swindells’s face, and he nodded. “Yes, maybe a bit too much. Guarded emotionally. Her mother died when she was ten. I handled it by taking on as many hot spot tours as I could get. She was mostly raised by my mom, who lives in New Rochelle.”
    â€œThus the comment about your first love,” Stupenagel said.
    Swindells nodded. “Yes, that dig was meant for me. I regret not being around for her, but there’s nothing I can do to change the past except try to see her more now. She just graduated, like Sam and me, from the Point and is visiting her grandmother before leaving for Ranger school.”
    â€œLike father, like daughter.”
    â€œYes. She thinks she has something to prove. Being worthy of my love and all that.” Swindells’s voice caught, and he had to clear this throat before going on. “She’s always had it even if I wasn’t very good at showing it. . . . Anyway, I’m going to beteaching a special course at West Point in advanced asymmetrical warfare. The 148th Battalion was my last posting, and I just stopped by to say hi to some of the grunts who worked for me.”
    Stupenagel looked at him sideways. “I was wondering what a combat soldier like Mick Swindells was doing with a military intelligence outfit. Black ops didn’t seem to be your style.”
    Swindells shrugged. “With the force reduction in the hot zones, it was a way to stay in the action. I think field intelligence, instead of relying on high-tech surveillance, is one place where the Army has done a piss-poor job, and I wanted to be part of bringing it up to snuff. Plus, I’ve learned a few things about staying alive in the field and thought I might pass that knowledge on to some of these young men and women.”
    As he spoke, he gestured toward the gathering. Stupenagel followed his gesture and noted that a number of the attendees were looking at them curiously.
    â€œSo I won’t ask how you happened to know I would be in Central Park,” Swindells said, “and why you know so much about the 148th, but do you want to let me know what this is really about?”
    Stupenagel nodded. “Ghareeb al Taizi. Or, more to the point, what happened afterward at Riyadh.”
    Swindells kept the smile on his face, but his eyes narrowed and all traces of humor disappeared. “Never heard of it.”
    â€œI think you have,” Stupenagel said. “And I want to know what was such a big secret that your guys and an antiterrorism agency were headed for a showdown at the O.K. Corral until someone high up ruled in your guys’ favor.”
    â€œOne, not ‘my’ guys; that was a Company D operation and they only report to the guys at the very top, not some lowly colonel. Two, there are some things going on that I don’t necessarily agree with, but as you know, the government often keeps some information from the public.”
    â€œEven from other agencies?”
    Swindells shrugged. “Interagency feuds are an everyday occurrence.” He glanced at the tables and then laughed and reached out to touch her arm as if they were sharing a fond memory.
    â€œGranted,” Stupenagel said, “but I have reason to believe that this is more than an interagency power struggle. Someone high up didn’t want anyone to have access to whatever was on those computers and documents.”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œMaybe not, but what about Nadya Malovo? Does she know what she’s talking about? What about sarab , the mirage?”
    Swindells’s face tensed at the word, then he smiled stiffly and offered her his arm. “Let’s walk.” When they’d moved away from the others, he spoke again. “I want you to forget this. It’s aboveyour pay grade and probably mine; all I can say