Frank was startled to see Lesley in a snack bar, sitting on a tall stool in the window, eating a samoza. Lesley had been away for at least a year, presumably studying somewhere. He had always been a serious student of economics and, Frank thought, the sort of person who would do well in some academic vocation. He looked rather puzzled and annoyed now, as if sitting in a snack bar and eating a samoza were only a pale approximation of what he had expected to be doing. His hair was long, and he had grown a small beard. Frank stopped and waved to him. Then he went in.

"Lesley," he said, "How have you been?"

"Good", said Lesley, "And how are you? How have you been? What have you been doing? Where are you living now? How's the girlfriend? Are you working? What's going on? What's the latest news? What's the average rainfall?" He put his samoza down and raised his arms over his head. "In what countries do we find significant deposits of manganese? What's the gross national project? What does the word 'echolalia' mean? Who am I? Where am I going? How far is it?"

"Maybe I'll have a coffee. If you don't mind me joining you," said Frank.

"What do you look for in a good cup of coffee?" asked Lesley. "How poisonous is caffeine compared to, say, plutonium? Where's my girlfriend? How much time do we have? What's your e-mail address?"

In short, he seemed much as Frank remembered him. It was only after they had exchanged some further pleasantries that Lesley's current distress became apparent.

He wiped his hands on a napkin and pointed at Frank, saying, in a fairly unexcited manner: "You were in Mexico City in September and October of 1963. During your one-week stay, you contacted the Soviet Embassy and the Cuban consulate, inquiring about visas needed to go to the Soviet Union via Cuba. And you also contacted one Valerii Kostikov, a man the CIA describes as a case officer for an operation which was evidently sponsored by the KGB's 13th Department! You were the man who posed as Oswald."

Frank put his coffee down and said: "That's not true, Lesley."

"You were also the Mediterranean-looking wino whom police led across Dealley Plaza after the assassination. And you talked to Howard Hunt — there is no point in denying it— about making payoffs to the Miami mob. And then you, or someone who knew about it, erased the tapes."

"I remember hearing about that, my parents were talking about this Kennedy guy who'd been shot, and I thought they were talking about some real person."

"All this explains why Hunt claims not to remember you being present then or at any other time. When we know that he must have told you about Rubello's demands."

"Yeah. I thought they meant a neighbour or somebody in town. I wasn't in school yet, but my older brother was in grade two, and when he came home he explained the whole thing," said Frank. "I can't remember if I even — "

"It gets very murky here, but one thing is sure: you must have made that call." Lesley balled up his napkin and turned to his coffee, still looking at Frank expectantly.

Having found Lesley's cell phone number at the bottom of the business card Lesley gave him, Frank decided to call a few days later. “Hey, Lesley."

"Hello?"

Just thought I'd give you a call to see how you're doing, buddy."

"Oh. I see. I see. Did you find that webpage yet!?"

"What webpage?"

"Oh, okay. I see. Yes, I see now. So that's how it is. Right." and he hung up.

Later - I was taking a lot of the wrong kind of drugs. Now I’m on the right kind. Actually, you could help me. There’s a webpage about me, I can’t find it anywhere. I've looked and looked.

"What webpage?"

"There's a - a page out there, I can't find it, but it's got a lot of stuff about me on it. Basically, it is my page. I didn't have anything to do with creating it, obviously, but it has quite a lot of intimate details about me, I don't know how they found out that stuff."

"How do you know this? Have you seen it?"

"Oh. I see. That's how it is." And he backed away.