The Names

I pulled down a book on mythology for Tap. I took it to the cash register. The woman there directed me to a man across the room. I gave him the book and followed him to his little desk. He took a thick pad, wrote out a sales slip and gave it to me, without the book. I took the sales slip to the woman at the cash register. She took my money, stamped the slip and gave it back to me with my change. I put the stamped document in my pocket and went to the little desk. The man had wrapped the book and was sealing the package with transparent tape. He wanted my sales slip. I took it out of my pocket and gave it to him. He gave me a carbon copy. I put it in my pocket and left with the neatly wrapped book.My life was full of routine surprises. One day I was watching ru

Rowser traveled under a false name. He had a total of three identities and owned the relevant paper. His office outside Washington was equipped with a letter-bomb detector, a voice scrambler, an elaborate system to prevent break-ins. He was a man who never quite took the final heavy step into foolishness and pathos, despite the indications. His life itself was the chief indication, full of the ornaments of paranoia and deception. Even his hoarse voice, a forced whisper, seemed a comic symptom of the clandestine environment. But Rowser's massive drive, his will to see things through, overpowered everything else.He was a businessman. He sold insurance to other businessmen. The subjects were money, politics and force.I met him in the bar off the lobby of the Grande Bretagne, one of the duskier haunts, plush chairs, soft voices. He was a stocky man with glasses, going bald. He was drinking mineral water and making notes when I walked in."Sit down. I'm back from Kuwait.”"Are they killing Americans?”"Not so you'd notice," he said. "Not openly. What have you got for me?”"George, can I order a drink?”"Order a drink.”"Turkey is an education in how far people will go to make a point. Except no one agrees on what the point is.”"What else is new?”"The weather was good.”"Did you go to the mosques?”"Not this trip," I said."I can't understand how people go to Istanbul and don't do the mosques. I can spend hours in one mosque.”"I was there on business, George.”"Very good. But you can always make time for a mosque.”"Are you religious?”"Get away from me. I like the awe, that's all.”"Impressive architecture. I concede that much.”"No pictures. I have entree to Vatican pictures no one gets in to see without stu