He stares at me as if we are both underwater and shouts back, very clearly over the din of the club, “Because … I had … dinner … with Paul Owen … twice … in London … just ten days ago.” After we stare at each other for what seems like a minute, I finally have the nerve to say something back to him but my voice lacks any authority and I’m not sure if I believe myself when I tell him, simply, “No, you … didn’t.” But it comes out a question, not a statement. “Now, Donaldson,” Carnes says, removing
