A month or so later, I visited him at his apartment near the Army base where he was stationed. He introduced me to another officer he had become friendly with, a lawyer in the JAG Corps, the Army’s military law branch. The trouble was, I had known him about a year earlier when he had a different name and was a second lieutenant in the Infantry. He had been a military intelligence agent assigned to watch me, and now he was there to keep an eye on my friend.

A few months after that, I was on my way to cover a Democratic Party fundraiser for the McGovern campaign in the apartment of a wealthy campaign donor on Central Park South. I had some time to kill, so stopped off at the Lion’s Head, the writer’s bar next to the old Village Voice offices on Christopher Street. When I got on the 6th Avenue subway to go uptown, I saw a guy I had noticed down the bar from me at the Lion’s Head. I thought I’d seen him at the Head before, but he wasn’t a regular, and I didn’t think much of it. He got off at 57th Street when I did, but I still didn’t think much of it. Maybe he lived in midtown. Not everyone who drank at the Lion’s Head lived in the Village.