First Born(82)

‘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.

‘It’s OK,’ says James. ‘They’re the best in the business.’

I put my seatbelt on anyway.

‘I need to ask you, Molly. How has it been these past days? I mean, I expect you’ve had nobody to talk to about any of this. How has that affected you? Psychologically, I mean.’

‘I’ve worked through it.’

‘DeLuca told me you’ve been punishing some of Katie’s friends and associates for their wrongdoings.’

‘I don’t know what he means.’

‘You can talk freely here, Molly. It’s probably the only place in the world where you can talk freely. I have the aircraft scanned for bugs and surveillance devices before each and every flight. Now, one thing I’d like to know. Why did you lie to me?’

‘I didn’t lie to you.’

‘You demanded I fly you to New York so you could reconcile with your twin sister while your parents were visiting. You told me you didn’t have a passport and you didn’t have any money.’

My neck starts to itch.

‘But you did have a passport, Molly. And you didn’t reconcile with Katie – quite the opposite.’

‘Things went wrong,’ I say. ‘You can’t predict how someone will react.’

‘I’d bloody say so.’

I don’t like his tone. I unfasten my seatbelt.

‘You put me and my organisation at unnecessary risk, Molly. DeLuca and his team have been working 24/7 to clean up your trail, to avoid anyone linking us.’

‘I know.’

‘Why did you do it to your sister?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You do know. What had Katie ever done to you?’

I shrug.

He shakes his head. ‘Let me tell you, from experience, that if you don’t talk about it, if you don’t let it out, it’ll eat away at you until you grow tumours. What happened in Katie’s apartment that afternoon, Molly?’

I take a deep breath and then sip from my drink.

‘That’s a beautiful watch you’re wearing,’ I say.

He looks confused for a moment, glancing down at his left wrist. ‘It’s a vintage Rolex. Used to belong to a racing driver. I won it in Geneva.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘I was there when you bid for it.’

‘No, Katie was there.’

I dip the cuff of my sleeve into my gin tumbler and wipe at my eyebrow. The look on his face as my make-up smudges and the scar reappears.

‘What are you . . .?’ he says.

‘Yes,’ I say.

‘Katie?’

I pull the snub-nosed .38 revolver lighter I bought from a souvenir store out from my sock and hold it casually at table level, the barrel pointed at his chest.

He swallows. ‘Don’t do anything stupid, Molly.’

‘Katie. My name is Katie.’

He frowns. ‘What did I whisper in your ear when I won this watch at the Phillips auction?’

I smile. ‘You whispered, One day, Katie, this watch will be yours.’

His mouth falls open.





Chapter 51


‘You?’

‘Me.’

He shakes his head and then he focuses on my gun. ‘Don’t kill me. I can get you more cash, just don’t kill me, please.’

‘You do exactly as I say, your perfect life won’t change one bit. And I’ve had enough of your money, your sponsorship, your secret packages, your conditions, your precise stipulations about how I should dress when attending the opera with you or how I should look at you when dining out with your friends in Italy. I’ve had enough of your foundation.’ I can feel my face reddening. ‘Enough of deliveries, and enough of men in dark suits from half a dozen countries tracking me because of my connection with you and Project H. Enough of Bogart DeLuca or Peter Hill or whatever his name will be next month. This is the end.’

‘Whatever you want.’ His hands are up by his cheeks. ‘Just put the gun down.’