How long have you been researching it?” I ask.
He’s really angry now. “Seven years.”
In the front seat Philip snorts.
“So you started before Zacharov got the diamond?”
“I’m the one who told him about it.” Barron’s expression is firm, certain, but I think I can see the fear in his face. He’s lying, but he will never admit he’s lying. There is no evidence in the world that will make him back off a claim once he’s made it. If he did, he would have to admit how much of his memory is already gone.
Philip and Anton snicker to each other. They know he’s lying too. It’s like going to the movies with them in the summers when we all stayed in Carney with our grandparents. The familiarity makes me relax despite myself.
“So I actually agreed to do this?” I say.
They laugh more.
I have to proce
