Adrian Reves agrees to meet us at the Alderman, the same neutral ground where his brother once sat across from us and told the truth flat, without dressing it in better language. The symmetry is deliberate. I understand this before he says a word; he chose the location specifically to be measured against his brother's honesty and to invite the comparison.
He is younger than Anton, leaner, with none of his brother's composed stillness. He has the restless quality of a man who has spent two weeks doing something he is not proud of and has run out of road to do it on.
"Where is Anton," I say, before he has finished sitting down.
"Safe," he says. "For now. I am the only reason he is still breathing."
Faye's hand finds the edge of the table. "Explain that," she says.
Adrian looks at her. "
