"Not exactly amnesia, perhaps," Foster said. "But there were things he was unable to remember."
"If that's amnesia, we've all got it," I said. "Nobody's got a perfect memory."
"But these were matters of importance; not the kinds of thing that simply slip one's mind."
"I can see how you'd want to believe the book had something to do with your past, Mr. Foster," I said. "It must be a hard thing, not knowing your own life story. But you're on the wrong track. Maybe the book is a story you started to write—in code, so nobody would accidentally read the stuff and kid you about it."
"Legion, what was it you planned to do when you got to Miami?"
The question caught me a little off-guard. "Well, I don't know," I hedged. "I wanted to get south, where it's warm. I used to know a few people——"
"In other words, nothing," Foster said. "Legion, I'll pay you well to stay with me and see this thing through."
I shook my head. "Not me, Mr. Foster. The whole thing sounds—well, the kindest word I can think of is 'nutty.'"
"Legion," Foster said, "do you really believe I'm insane?"
"Let's just say this all seems a little screwy to me, Mr. Foster."