Page 89 of Carbon

“Because Black recognised that you needed a friend, and he understood the type of person you needed that friend to be.”

“So you caring about me, that was all a lie?”

Didn’t she think I’d been hurt enough yet?

“No, I just bent the truth at some points.”

“Like where?”

“Uh, I don’t really drive a Volkswagen or live in a teeny apartment.”

“You set all that up?”

“Black did, and I went along with it. Like you said, we’ll do anything to help the men we love.”

“You both manipulated me.”

And so damn smoothly I’d never suspected a thing. These people lived in a whole different world, didn’t they? One where truth was a rarity, a weakness, and nothing was as it appeared.

“Look on the bright side—we’re on your team.”

“I don’t know whether to hug you or hate you.”

“How about you reserve judgement until we find Ben Durham? What did he have to say?”

“Why should I tell you? All you’ve done is lie.”

“Would you have told us the truth any other way?”

I thought about that for a minute, and I had to admit she was right. If they’d tried to force the information out of me, I’d never have given it. And at heart, I did believe they wanted to help.

“You can’t keep lying.”

“Okay, I promise.” She held up both hands. “Look, I haven’t got any fingers crossed.”

I sighed, then made my decision. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”

24

We didn’t go back to the little apartment in Camden. Instead of the bustle of the high street and market, intimidating yet somehow comfortable in their anonymity, huge homes zipped past on quiet streets. Even though I’d grown up with money, I couldn’t help gawping at the houses hidden behind walls and hedges, too big even for my father to afford.

“Where are we?”

“Belgravia.”

“Why?”

“It’s where we’re running the real investigation.”

What did she mean the “real investigation?” She spoke like everything so far had been a game. A charade. “I don’t understand.”

“You will soon enough. I promised no more lies, yeah?”

Minutes later, she turned left into the short driveway of a huge white mansion, down a ramp, and into an underground parking garage reminiscent of the one at Blackwood’s headquarters.

“This is another office?”

“It’s our home. Your things have already been moved here from the apartment.”

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