“Oh, that’s all right.”
“Is that part of what you are hiding? If it is, I don’t want to see it until you are ready to show me.”
Tim looked up at him then.
“Thanks,” he said. “I don’t mind about the cats. Not if you like cats really.”
“I really do. But, Tim, this I would like to know: You’re not afraid of the needle. Could you tell me why you were afraid… why you said you were afraid … of my shot? The one I promised not to give you after all?”
Their eyes met.
“You won’t tell?” asked Tim.
“I won’t tell.”
“Because it was pentothal. Wasn’t it?”
Welles gave himself a slight pinch. Yes, he was awake. Yes, this was a little boy asking him about pentothal. A boy who—yes, certainly, a boy who knew about it.