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rounded off his sentence, underlined the last word on the board, and slammed his lesson plan closed.’ “Till Monday,” he said. Dan sighed, fingering his hand as if it were made of blown glass.
    As he went past her toward the door, the blonde, Sandy Cottrell, said, “You there. Want to grab a beer? Our after-class bunch gets together at Mr. Henry’s. Sometimes
he
comes, too.”
    â€œSure,” he said. “Mr. Henry’s is—”
    â€œRight around the corner. Mei, you coming tonight?”
    Mei came, along with a silent black girl, the carrottop, and a Korean. The trio of guys were marine buddies who had decided to go to school,together. They shoved tables together in the smoky old-fashioned bar and ordered beer and white wine.
    Cottrell hand-rolled a cigarette from rough-cut Douwe Egberts and leaned back, rouged cheeks hollowing as she sucked in smoke. “He’s totally brilliant,” she explained to the black woman. “He’s always at the White House, or atJCS. He advised the Undersecretary of State in the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks. This is the second time I’ve taken this class.”
    â€œAre you still dating him?” the redhead asked her.
    â€œOn and off. Are you still out at PRC?”
    â€œSAIC Breen’s out there, too.”
    â€œI thought he was at DARPA.”
    â€œDid Dr. Szerenci say you worked at the Capitol?” Dan asked her. The cloud of smoke around her put him off, as did the indecipherable acronyms, but she was obviously the axis around which the group revolved.
    â€œThat’s right. Legislative correspondent for Representative Zoelcke.”
    â€œOh yeah? That’s great.”
    â€œActually, it’s not. Just junior staff for a junior member. Eddie’s going to find me a better slot, on the executive side.”
    â€œEddie?”
    â€œDr. Szerenci…. There he is. Over here!”
    Szerenci threw his coat over a chair. The barman brought two double schnappses in tiny stemmed glasses. The professor tossed them both down. He sighed, slapped the table, and held out his hand to Dan. “We don’t get much Navy presence. Where are you working?”
    Dan told him about the project office. Szerenci nodded, then turned to the black girl. “Frances, did you call Schroeder out at GRC? Did he have the position?”
    Cottrell leaned toward him to explain, sotto voce. “Eddie considers it his personal mission to place his students. He’s got to have two, three hundred people around the Hill and inside the Beltway that he’s gotten jobs for.”
    â€œThat’s great,” said Dan. He caught the Chinese woman’s eye across the table. She dropped her gaze instantly. “Mei, what do you do during the day?”
    â€œOh, just a translating position. I am hoping to do something more interesting when I go home.”
    As they talked, he half-listened to Cottrell and Szerenci joking about somebody who worked at Brookings. Everyone sounded brilliant and happy and successful. He didn’t feel exactly out of it, but a shadow hovered. He had twomartinis, then cut himself off and got up. The ex-marines were still hammering down beers.
    Outside the bar, he stopped, congratulating himself on holding down his alcohol consumption. Then suddenly, he lifted his head, checking the shadows around him.
    The bar had been lively, noisy, but Pennsylvania Avenue’s shabby storefronts were dark. The sidewalks were empty, and traffic had ebbed to an occasional lone taxi. He walked west, remembering a Metro stop in that direction. He was turning down Twenty-third when a siren began to wail. Strobes licked the faces of the buildings. He glanced across the street, where he saw the entrance to George Washington University Hospital.
    As the ambulance turned in, someone emerged from the shadows not far behind him. If he hadn’t been looking back, he wouldn’t have seen him at all. For a