Part 58 (1/2)
”Strange how the two of them continue to crop up together. What's the French phrase,
”For a good cat, a good rat'?” She paused for a moment.
”Thomas,” she asked, 'tell me honestly. How well did you know your father?”
”How well did I know my own father?” he asked with incredulity.
”Yes ”I knew him well,” he said with a tone of exasperation, as if the answer were so self-evident that it hadn't deserved being asked.
”Very well? His beliefs? Do you think you knew his innermost thoughts?”
His face twisted into a scowl. She knew she'd have to retreat slightly.
”What kind of grilling is this?” he asked.
”It's important” she said.
”Everything is your father this, my father that. First it was the link between us and the will. Now it's the link between De Septio and us.
Doesn't that strike you as curious?”
”Suspicious as h.e.l.l,” he allowed.
”Does it trigger anything in your memory? Anything at all that you haven't told me yet?”
He searched his brain, desperately trying to think of one time, however many years ago, when his father might have mentioned De Septio. But no, there hadn't been a time. Not once. He shook his head no. She seemed disappointed.
She glanced to her left. Then quickly to her right.
”Did you come alone?” she asked, looking back to him.
”Of course.”
”We're not alone now.”
And they weren't. Naturally it was Leslie who'd been the one to notice.
”Walk with me,” she said.
”How did you get here?”
”By car.”
”I'll get us out of here” she said.
”Then you lead us to your car.”
There were two men again, but different men this time. Different from at the Ans.p.a.cher Gallery, one in each direction. One seemed like an older man; he walked as a man in his seventies might. Lean, intent, shadowed by the overhead lights. The other was thick, wrapped in a bulky parka and hood, but wore a beard which for a fleeting second Thomas thought he'd recognized.
But no, it would be impossible.