” “You just didn’t know. Anyway, you gave me the bourbon the day of the funeral.” “Before and after, if I recall.” “After. And, I though..., ‘Maybe he’s trying to get me drunk so I’ll fuck him.’ But, you weren’t. And then, when you said my name, it really became obvious you loved me.” “I don’t see how you could have determined that,” I argued. “I didn’t even know you.” “Complete bullshit, Eric,” she said, laughing. “You loved me the first time you saw me.” “Excuse me,” I protested. “You were a. There was another one called Anderson who was older, maybe more senior. He was new. Anyway, it seems that some British gal who disappeared two years back has been found and she mentioned she had been held with an American called Tracy. The Feds and the CIA obviously think that this Tracy is my Tracy, otherwise they would not have come to see me. The British bitch won't talk: she has some syndrome or other..." Stockholm Syndrome?" Yeah. Something like that. I think you need to go and find her. More

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