The Star of Istanbul

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Thanks to Dr. Wesley Scoles, my physician, my friend, and my go-to Doctor of Mayhem. To Jake Reiss, for the occasional writing space in the Booksmith’s back room, for his support of Kit Cobb, and for a certain, splendid personnel decision. And to Lou Boxer, who read every word.

I did not expect to find him until we were on board, this Walter Brauer. I knew where he was booked in first class: en suite on A Deck, with my stateroom just around the corner. In the jostle of the crowd at Pier 54, I was content not even to think about him. If he didn’t show, that would be Trask’s problem. I’d never been late to a war, and here the world was, nine months into the Big One and no one had seen a single Christopher Cobb byline from the action. That was Trask’s doing.

No. More precisely, it was my country’s doing, so I guess I wasn’t as heated up as I know I’m sounding. After my little adventure in Mexico the previous spring, my country had called on me to take some time off and train for the covert work I was happy to be asked to do. But I was also happy to get up on the back of a great greyhound of a steamship and run to the action at last. And I’d still get to be a war correspondent, even as I played this other part as well.

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