The engines scream and Krista barks.
As the plane taxis I dig my nails into the soft pads of my fingers, focusing, trying not to pass out with terror.
The plane picks up speed.
Krista barks and howls.
The plane is in the air, and I am leaving New York City once and for all.
Chapter 50
It’s not as bad as you think, taking off while you’re trapped inside a leather dog crate.
I’d rather have a comfortable seat and a seatbelt, but there is an illogical reassurance that comes from being confined in a small space. I’m surrounded by Hermès calf leather and the crate is jammed between the on-board bed and the fuselage wall.
Once we’re in the air I take a sip from the water bottle tube.
I wait for a long time. What feels like hours.
A noise.
I hear the door to the jet’s bedroom open.
The hatch lifts and I see his narrow, clean-shaven face. He smiles down at me and then he opens the lid of the crate and offers me his delicate hand. I take it, contorting my limbs to climb out, stretching, bent double for a moment before straightening up.
‘You look like you need a drink, Molly.’
‘Is it safe?’
‘On here?’ he says. ‘Completely. The captain and co-pilot have been with me for eleven years and seven years respectively. They know the score, I told you last time. They’re not to come out of the cockpit unless they need the restroom, which is directly next to the cockpit. They will not enter the rear two-thirds of the aircraft. You’re safe. Please, come through.’
He leads me into the centre portion of the jet. A sofa with a film projector, twelve large cream leather armchairs, each headrest monogrammed JK. Just as I remember it.
‘Was the dog crate better than the suitcase, or worse?’
‘Better,’ I say. ‘The pilot has the flight plan?’
He nods. ‘Good choice, Molly. You did your research. I mean, all three options I gave you had effectively zero extradition risk, but your choice, for my money, was the right one. Palm trees and easy living.’
I made my choice after news of KT’s death came out. I contacted James Kandee and told him he had to help me, otherwise he would be accessory to a murder. I needed a back-up plan in case things went wrong.
‘How long before we’re there?’
‘Not long now.’
‘Did DeLuca’s people get my money out from the suite?’
He smiles and points to the chair opposite. We both sit down facing each other. ‘No, he did not.’
I stand back up.
‘Relax, Molly. Please, sit down. The day you’ve had. Please, take a seat and let me explain.’
I sit down.
‘Drink?’
‘My money?’
‘Well, in reality it’s my money, but I understand your concern. They couldn’t get into your suite; the NYPD were all over it. I’m sorry, I know you had some sentimental items stowed away.’
‘I had thirty-eight thousand dollars stowed away.’
He reaches down under his seat and lifts up a black leather portfolio folder. It matches the dog crate. ‘I rounded it back up to fifty.’
He pushes the leather folder across the table to me and I unzip it. ‘Fifty?’
‘Count it if you like, Molly.’
I flick through a wad of notes. ‘I trust you.’
‘After what I’ve done for you, I would say you should trust me. Now, that drink. Gin, whisky, champagne? I don’t have an attendant so I’ll serve you myself.’
I hesitate and then I say, ‘Gin and tonic. A weak one.’
He steps over to a small kitchenette and prepares two gin and tonics. ‘Lemon, lime or cucumber, Molly?’
‘Lime and ice.’
He finishes the drinks and sits back down, pushing one of the glasses over to me. The tonic water bubbles explode under my nose and I relax for the first time in a long time. It tastes strong.
‘What happens when we get there?’ I ask.
‘Simple. They think Milla is booked in for a residential obedience course at a beachside resort. So, when we land, I step off the plane with you in the crate, and you’re carried to the outsize-baggage area inside the building, to be picked up and driven an hour from the airport, to the boarding house you requested. I take a meeting with an art dealer at the Grand Hotel, buy a Matisse sketch, and then I’ll board the plane and head to St Kitts for a three-day trip.’
‘And then that’s the end of it.’
‘That, Molly, is the end of it.’
I drink.
The plane turns to the right and I grip the seat with my hand.