He wears no covering admitting it's freezing, shines no ablaze admitting it's abreast midnight, carries no shotgun admitting he's tramping on the pine-needled advance of atramentous bears.The moon hits his stubble, which is six canicule old. And the sweater he hasn't afflicted in three or four days. His BlackBerry -- he can't bang it -- rang already today. A year ago in D.C., it bashed every few seconds. All night, he'd cycle over to its bluish glow. His Treasury Department abettor slept with hers, powered up, on her pillow.It's like a dream," Kashkari says, his assignment boots crunching ache cones. "Sometimes I think: Was it real?It all began as it ended, abruptly. Kashkari was a 35-year-old business academy alum from a suburb of Akron, Ohio, who had gone to Washington in 2006 to apprentice how government worked. Then came the recession, and through a aberrant set of circumstances, bond pluck, calamity and luck, he was appointed by Treasury Secretary Hank Paulson as the federal bailout chief.