and reached above the door. She took down a large manila envelope that had been taped there. She brought it into the kitchen, emptied it on the table, and sat down.
“What’s that?” asked Rita.
“Bernie’s birth certificate.”
“I suppose you went out reading gravestones for this one?” asked Bernie, as he studied the paper.
“The police figured that one out a while ago, so it doesn’t work very well anymore. This one’s not a forgery. A man I knew used to work in the county clerk’s office in Franklin County, Pennsylvania. He added about fifty names to the records and sold me their birth certificates a few years ago. I couldn’t get the age perfect—I don’t have that many left—but your birth is officially registered. You’re sixty-seven.”
Bernie nodded and set the certificate aside.
“Here is your driver’s license,” said Jane. “It’s real too. I had a man use the birth certificate to apply and take the driving test. It’s from New Jersey, because they don’t require a photograph. You can take it to the Motor Vehicles office in town and trade it in for a New Mexico one.”
“Today?” asked Rita.
Jane shook her head. “We have other things to do first. This one will be good for a long time, and the longer he waits, the less dangerous it will be.” She set an American Express card, a Visa, and a MasterCard on the table in front of Bernie. “Over the years, I grew Mr. Moore some credit. The limits aren’t high, but you won’t need much.”
Bernie said, “Anything else?”
Jane said, “Social Security card. That’s fake.”
“Who gives a—”
“Bernie … ” Rita cautioned.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Is that it?”
“Not quite,” said Jane. “Here’s your DD-214.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s an honorable discharge from the army. It’s a fake. There’s a company that advertises in magazines. If you lost your discharge papers, they’ll sell you what they call a ‘Deluxe Memento Replica, Suitable for Framing.’ This doesn’t do anything for you except help build a deeper cover.” She was coming close to the bottom of the pile. “I have other things like that too. They don’t have any legal status, but everybody has a few: auto club membership, library card, and so on. You carry them around in your wallet, and it helps make Peter Moore a person, not a flat picture of a person.”
She left the rest of the cards and papers on the table and stood up. She swung the refrigerator door open. “There’s enough food in this house to live on for a week or two. The freezer is stuffed, and the cupboards are full of canned goods.”
She walked to the kitchen door. “Keep the doors locked and bolted, of course,” she said. “I put an extra dead bolt into the floor, so you have to bend over to free it. That way nobody can just break the glass and let himself in.”
They followed her back into the living room. She stopped at the couch where she had slept, and lifted the telephone so they could hear the dial tone. “I ordered phone service because everybody has a phone. Obviously you won’t get much use out of it for now.”
She led the way up the stairs. “I put all the clothes and things into this room.” She opened the top drawer of the dresser. “I bought clip-on sunglasses to go over your glasses if you have to go out.”
Bernie slipped them over his glasses and glanced in the mirror. “Not much of a disguise.”
Jane said, “They’re not looking for you. You’re dead. If you get spotted, it will be because the wrong person happens to be here and gets a very good look at you close up. You can’t completely avoid that possibility, but you can make it a bit less likely.” She reached into the drawer again. “Hats. People here wear hats in the summer because the sun is fierce, and in the winter because it’s cold.”
She opened two more drawers. “Clothes. I got them in stores in Santa Fe, so you’ll fade in a little better.”
“You know what size I am?” asked Bernie.
“I searched your luggage in Niagara Falls,” said Jane. She moved into the bathroom. “I see you found the toothbrushes and things.”
Jane left the bathroom and went down the stairs. “Now for your money.”
“What about it?” asked Bernie.
Jane walked back into the kitchen and opened a drawer. “I’ve opened a joint checking account. The names are Peter James Moore and Renee Moore. You do have to keep the checking account supplied. You can deposit up to a thousand or so in cash now and then without anyone noticing. You can convert a few thousand in cash into traveler’s checks, or money orders, and deposit those. Just don’t transfer any money from any old accounts, or write yourself any checks. That will be one of the things they’re looking for.”
Rita looked at the checkbook. “There’s already ten thousand in the account. How did you do that?”
“By check.”
“Whose check?”
“None of your business. Just use checks when you need to, for mailing in bills and things. You can buy almost anything small with cash.”
“I understand all of this stuff,” said Bernie. “I knew it before you were born.”
“Sorry,” Jane said. “The last thing is the car. You get the one in the garage. I had already signed the pink slip, so I signed the other half and transferred it to myself—Renee Moore—so I could get New Mexico plates. You just sign the line below as Peter Moore.”
“What happened to our deal?” asked Bernie. “When are we going to get started?”
“Soon.”
“I just want to remind you, we’ve got a little time problem,” said Bernie. “At a lousy six and a half percent, we’d be making two million a day. We’re making more. It’s like crabgrass. If you want to get rid of it, the sooner you get started, the less there is.”
Jane felt the beginning of a headache. “I know that,” she said patiently.
“We’re safe, right? You did it already. This place is great. It’s comfortable, but nothing about it says ‘money.’ The town is not too big, not too small. I don’t think God knows where we are. Now what’s the holdup?”
Jane sighed. Her eyes rested on Rita for a moment.
“No,” said Rita.
“I’m afraid it’s time,” Jane said. She turned to Bernie. “Get used to the place. If you’re up to it, begin writing down the information we’ll need to retrieve the money. When I get back, we’ll need all of it.”
Jane picked up her purse and walked to the kitchen door. “Come on, Rita,” she said.
Rita hesitated. She looked at Jane, then looked at Bernie, her eyes desperate and pleading. “I haven’t been a problem, have I?”
“No,” said Jane. “That isn’t the—”
“And you shouldn’t leave Bernie here alone,” she interrupted. “People need company. What if he falls down and breaks his hip or something?”
“Then I’ll crawl outside so the vultures can clean my carcass beyond recognition,” Bernie snapped. “Look, kid. You’re wasting our time.”
Rita sighed. “I’ll go get my stuff.” She turned and walked heavily up the stairs.
Jane and Bernie sat in the kitchen, their eyes fixed on each other. “Well?” asked Jane. “What am I supposed to do?”
“I didn’t say a word,” said Bernie. “I can be sorry to see her go without letting her do something stupid, can’t I?”
They heard Rita’s footsteps on the stairs, and fell silent. When she came into the kitchen she was carrying her thin blue jacket with the bulging pockets. She went to Bernie, put her arms around him, released him, and stepped back. “I have to ask just one more—”
Bernie put his finger over her lips. “Don’t bother, kid. Anybody who stays in this house with me is probably going to die. So what’s the right thing to do? Get out of it.”
In a moment, Rita was in the rental car sitting beside Jane, watching the clumps of dry, spiky desert plants
