“OK,” he said. “You don’t understand my question, so let me try to make it quite clear. What I mean is, where were you born, or where have you lived for that majority period of your life which you instinctively regard as predominant in a social or cultural context?”
“Then he confessed,” he said. “I did it, he said. I shot him, he said. The guy is confessing, right? On the tape.”
“What exactly do you mean when you say where am I from?” I asked.
“Have you got family?” he asked me.
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t entirely sure whose side I was on yet. Finlay’s, probably, but if Finlay started blundering around in whatever Hubble was mixed up in, Hubble and his family were going to end up dead. No doubt about that. So I figured I should just stay impartial and then get the hell out of there as fast as possible. I didn’t want to get involved.
“Who was he, Reacher?” Finlay asked.