‘You know better than to ever come looking for me,’ I say. ‘Because you know what I’m capable of.’
In truth, if I kill him, his teams will come after me. I’ll never stop looking over my shoulder. James has always kept his word. This is self-preservation, not mercy.
‘I’m sparing your life. Full and final settlement. It’s over.’
He nods his agreement.
I haven’t decided what will happen to Bagby yet. The wise choice would be to leave him to self-destruct. I believe he will. But if I get bored I’ll consider hastening his downfall. There are ways to attack a YouTube channel anonymously. Not trolling, not a single video to disgust his fans, but a campaign. A war.
Before I zip the leather dog crate shut I remove the 1969 Rolex Daytona Paul Newman watch from his wrist. I remember how much he paid for it. How rare it is.
The view from the plane is spectacular. Palm trees and white buildings.
I dress in James’s clothes and I pull on his New York Yankees baseball cap. We’re almost the same height and build. I put on his sunglasses. I strap on his Rolex.
As kids Molly and I would pretend to be each other. To shock our parents. To see what we could get away with at a friend’s house. I’m not sure Molly knew I could research almost as efficiently as her. We weren’t so different in that regard. The key to the pretence working effectively was always to believe in it yourself. Truly inhabit the role. It can be a thrill, actually. You have to think like the other person. I learned that from a retired undercover cop who lived for years as part of a motorcycle gang. His video taught me that to not let the mask slip, you must let go of your past self, albeit temporarily. You have to train yourself to think like the other person. I had to read my own FortressMail emails with fresh eyes. Molly’s eyes. That search history trail was vitally important. I knew that if police looked into my digital records they’d find what Molly would have logically searched for. I thought like she would. I had to imagine every detail of what it was like for Molly to fly back to London. Implant those false memories. Even as kids, pretending, Molly and I both knew we had to fully commit.
The door opens, but the pilots stay in the cockpit as instructed.
Molly thought she knew everything about me, but she hardly knew me at all. I know I knew everything about her.
I wheel the dog crate containing The Man to the door and then I back away. The baggage handler retrieves it.
‘Pleasant flight?’ he says.
I nod from inside the cabin.
‘Your car’s waiting, sir.’
I wait for him to leave and then walk down the Gulfstream’s steps, carrying only my leather portfolio case stuffed with used dollars. As I give the pilots the thumbs-up, I see my vintage Rolex glint in the equatorial sun. They see it, too.
I walk into my new life.
Imagine knowing a version of yourself exists in the world. A physical manifestation of all your worst traits and weaknesses. A constant reminder of what you could become.
The air is hot.
In time I’ll bring my parents here and we’ll live together in a modest house and enjoy a few modest years together. They’ll be unencumbered from their debts and bad memories, most of which stem back to taking so much time to watch out for Molly. I think my parents want this new situation even though they’d be afraid to admit it. Mum will have joy in her life again. I’ll never be a burden the way Molly was. I’ll never put them through that.
We had three minutes together following my birth. Three perfect minutes. We’ll have that again.
I climb into the back seat of the car and the dog box is taken to the terminal. I have my lighter in my pocket in case I need it.
We’ll live out here, just me and my parents. Maybe I’ll tell them Groot paid me off to keep my mouth shut. They’ll have time for me. We’ll do things together. Share experiences.
Three ravens.
No extras.
No duplicates.
The perfect family.