Chapter 23 · Roy Knows His Name

The guard brought Silas back to the visiting room fifteen minutes later.

Roy was sitting where Vivian had been. Same chair. Same side of the table. He'd folded his hands on the surface like he was waiting for a business meeting to start. The overhead light made his glasses reflective. Silas couldn't see his eyes.

"Silas Crane," Roy said. Not a question. A statement. "Born 1901, Newark. Mother died in childbirth. Father, Michael Crane, ran a poker hall on Mulberry Street until he drank himself to death in 1910. You were nine. Foster care for three years. First arrest at thirteen—pickpocketing at Penn Station. Second arrest at sixteen—con game involving fake war bonds. You got six months. You've been running ever since."

Silas sat down slowly. His wrists still ached from the cuffs. "You gonna recite my whole life story, or do we get to the part where you tell me what you want?"

Roy reached into his briefcase. He pulled out a file. Thick. At least two inches of paper. He set it on the table between them and tapped the cover with one finger.

"I've been tracking you for eight months," Roy said. "Since before I hired you.