I never thought you’d kill me. Actually, that’s a lie. I always knew, but I didn’t expect it to be now. There were still jobs that required my skills, we still shared common interests, and yet... It was because of the Hong Kong conspiracy, wasn’t it? You started acting differently back then. I have no idea what you saw during that dive, but it changed you. At the time I thought it was an improvement. I should have known something was up the moment you said you were quitting booze. No one believed you, of course. How could they? Jeremy “Scotchy” Headrow suddenly claims he’s going clean? What a joke. To think I was so impressed. Instead, you replaced one drug with another. This is my third time, you know. Now dying doesn’t hurt as much. Little J kept saying it only hurts the first time, but we both know he’s full of crap. I still don’t know why you kept him around for so long. Lying can be a useful tool, but only if with purpose. Little J lies for the sake of it, and doesn’t give a crap about the consequences. And usually I’m the one who has to clean the mess. They say those that fear death have already died a thousand times. I wonder what that makes you. Of course you only imagine it. I’m the one who’s actually dying, with the single hope one day I might be brought back again. No assurances, no certainty, just the slightest glimmer that my skills might be useful again. You’ve already used the app, so I know that the next time you close your eyes you’ll forget me completely. I’d hoped you’d have the courage to say goodbye, but... let’s say I know you well enough. I’ll miss our games of go. The nights we would spend sweating over the board until you inevitably won. Always by two and a half points. Do you think I would have won that game in New Cairo? Would you even tell me if it were so? I’ve just one last question before I go. Who will you replace me with? At least tell me that. I don’t care about Kiev or all the fun times we had together. I already know your thoughts on that. The only thing I want to know is who. My reflection twisted in the mirror. It was done. Prince Jeremy was no more, and he had taken all his hacking skills with him. From here on I wouldn’t be able to rely on myself to cut through the system’s ICE protocols. That wasn’t a problem, though. I could hire an elite hacker with the money I had. For the moment what I most needed was firearm knowledge. “Hello, Jeremy,” I said to the mirror. “We have work to do.” My secondary personality laughed inside my head. He knew exactly what I was thinking.