He turned his palms up. “And I ask questions.”
“Uh-huh.” I wasn’t enthusiastic. “I don’t. I can’t.”
“I know you can’t. Your name is Alex.”
“Oh. It is.”
“It is if you go with me. There are good reasons why it would be better for you to stay here, but confound it, you’ve been too close to me too long. I’m too dependent on you. However, the decision is yours. I don’t claim the right to drag you into a predicament of mortal hazard and doubtful outcome.”
“Yeah. I’m not very crazy about the name Alex. Why Alex?”
“We can choose another. It might not increase the risk of exposure for you to keep Archie, and that would make one less demand on our vigilance. You are my son, born in the United States. I must ask you to suffer that presumption because no lesser tie would justify my hauling you back to Galichnik with me. You are an only child and your mother died in your infancy. That will reduce the temptation for you to indulge your invention if we meet someone who speaks English. Until recently I repressed all sentiment about my homeland, so I have taught you no Serbo-Croat and no Serbian lore. At one point, while I was cooking, I decided you should be a deaf-mute, but changed my mind. It would create more difficulties than it would solve.”
“It’s an idea,” I declared. “Why not? I practically am anyway.”
“No. You would be overheard talking with me.”
“I suppose so,” I conceded reluctantly. “I’d like to take a crack at it, but I guess you’re right. Are we going to Galichnik?”