That’s How I Roll

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My name is Esau Till.

What I’ve put down here isn’t some “Death Row Diary,” like the bloodsuckers wanted to pay me to write. Don’t look for a last-minute confession to crimes I was never caught for. Or for the apology some think I owe.

This is a bomb. The last one I’ll ever build. You’ll never even know it exists unless someone stumbles over the tripwire I left behind.

That will happen only if I am betrayed. I don’t expect that, but I still have to plan for it.

No bomb I made ever failed, which is why people paid me so much to build them. In my chosen line of work, you have to earn a reputation before you start earning real money.

My bombs were always custom-tailored to the job. Now, the only ingredients I have for building this last one are my own words. Those words should be more than enough, but they won’t ignite unless they are believed.

I know if I’m caught in one single lie people might well disbelieve my entire account … and they’d be entitled to do so. All it takes is a single clutch of termite eggs to bring down a whole house.

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