Harrison sighed.
After a moment he said, “You intend to be a journalist, is that correct?”
Ephraim, surprised, said: “That’s correct.”
“Then you will understand what’s meant by ‘off the record.’”
“Certainly.” He looked across the table at Lewyn and me. But we had no idea what Harrison was going to tell us, either.
“I had a call last night, from someone I haven’t seen for years. To be honest, I haven’t thought about him for years, either. He was a classmate of mine. And Eli’s.”
“At Harvard?”
“No. At Roarke. He and Eli had a … well, we can call it a conflict. And he left school, in the middle of the term. In the middle of the night, actually, as I recall. His name is Carlos. He’s a professor of political science at the University of Chicago.”
“Okay.” Ephraim was doing his best not to show any excitement.
“He wanted to know if I believed him now.”
“About what?” Lewyn said.
“Eli accused him of stealing something. Plagiarizing something of his. It was very serious. It was his word against Carlos’s. It was very stressful for the community. I guess Carlos just … blinked first, and he withdrew from Roarke. At the time, I interpreted that to mean that he had actually done what Eli accused him of doing. He left and, I assumed, went on with his life somewhere else. Eli and I became good friends around that time. He invited me to come down to Hayek with him.” He looked at Ephraim. “Obviously you are well-informed about Hayek. You’ve created an unprecedented crisis there.”
“I have created nothing,” Ephraim said defensively. “I have exposed something that already existed.”
“Fine. Well. Carlos reminded me that he had been reading Eli’s book, just before this happened. Reading it, and talking about it with some of the others. He told me last night that he’d never suspected anything. He thought the book was amazing and Eli was a genius. He was a fan. And then he was a pariah in our school. It affected him for many years, apparently. He said he was unable to reenter university. He had to give up his place at Princeton. He was hospitalized, he said, for depression. Eventually he managed to get back on track. I found it very awkward that he still wanted to reassure me he hadn’t stolen from Eli. And, as I said, he asked if I believed him now.”
“And what did you say?” Lewyn asked.
“I said I did. I felt I had to say that. But it might also be true.” He looked at Ephraim again. “I reiterate. Off the record.”
Ephraim nodded. “Understood.”
“I think,” said Harrison, “what happened was that I had made a choice. I had no reason not to believe that it was the correct choice. I still want it to have been the correct choice. Everything that came after that…” He stopped without ending.
We waited.
“Well, I think that’s what I can say.”
Lewyn and I looked at each other. It was as near to an admission of weakness as we had ever heard from Harrison. It was seismic.
“Harrison,” Lewyn said. “I may never have understood the … appeal of this friend. Eli. I thought his ideas about people were rigid and punitive. And I sometimes … often … had a sense that he was, on some level, insincere, though obviously not to this extent. I don’t think I’m especially insightful about people. I’m as shocked as anyone else by what Ephraim discovered. But I never once questioned the affection and the loyalty between the two of you.”
After a moment, Harrison nodded.
“And, I want you to know, I respect those things. You and I have never been close, unfortunately, but you’re still my brother. As far as I’m concerned, you’re entitled to hold on to this relationship, if you want to. You don’t owe anyone an explanation. You certainly don’t owe me one. Of course, I’m always here if you, you know, want to talk.”