Thomas stared hard at her beautiful profile, understanding that she had become Agent Logan again. People were like polarized glass, transparent and opaque by turns. Cooperators one minute, competitors the next.

'Nora thought I was making it up. Your visit. The Blue-ray. She accused me of playing another sadistic head game.'

Sam frowned. 'Why would she think that? Neil's your best friend, isn't he? Why would she think you'd make something like that up?'

'My question exactly. I was dumbfounded. Which is why I drove to her place.'

How could it be so easy? How could he just look into her eyes and make shit up? With a kind of numb wonder, he realized that he was actually good at it. The dead look, as though simply reading the script of his memory. The tilt of the head, as though to say, It sounds strange I know, but what can I do? For his entire life Thomas had always pegged himself as someone who would choke in clutch situations.

Choke for the truth.

Sam glanced at him apologetically. Just doing my job, her eyes said. Business…

'When I arrived,' he continued, 'she was more frightened than furious. She thought I was making it up because I'd found out the two of them had… had been… When she told me as much, the shit well and truly hit the fan.'

He knew he sounded convincing. Even so, his chest tightened, his thoughts buzzed. Sooner or later they would interview Nora. After all, she was banging their perp. I'm fucking myself.

'Sorry, professor,' Sam said. She looked at him searchingly, as though afraid she had lost something. 'I mean, Tom.'

He nodded as though to reassure her.

When had he developed such a facility for lies?

Everybody's fucking everybody.

Sam spent the rest of the drive into Manhattan briefing Thomas on the details of the Gyges and Powski abductions. Gyges, a retail magnate, had simply never returned from an early morning jog in Central Park. Witnesses reported seeing him chatting to someone in a silver BMW, nothing more. When Thomas asked how it was a billionaire like Gyges would do anything without some kind of security, she replied, 'He was one of those guys.'

'What kind of guy is that?'

'You know, the kind of guy who pisses two paces back from the urinal.'

Thomas laughed. 'Because he's got a big dick?'

'No. The exact opposite. Because his dick is small.'

'I'm not sure I understand.'

Sam's smile was dazzling in the sunlight. 'Having a small dick is one thing. Not giving a damn about it is something different altogether. Broadcast your weaknesses, and people think you strong.'

'Or,' Thomas added, 'that you suffer delusions of penile grandeur.'

Sam cackled. 'That describes most men I know.'