‘Real. Good enough to buy a car, take out a loan. I don’t need it forever.’
Norte nodded. A fat gold pen lay on the green blotter in front of him. He rolled it in his fingers and said, ‘You must know, real is the most expensive.’
‘Yes, I know.’
‘It doesn’t matter how long you want it for, you can’t sell it back, or even give it back. Once you’ve got it, it’s yours.’
Parker shrugged. ‘Fine.’
‘Do you care about the backstory?’
‘Just so there’s no paper out on the name.’
‘No, of course.’ Norte considered, looking past Parker at the front window. ‘The Social Security won’t be real,’ he said. ‘I can’t get a legitimate number that works in their system.’
‘That should be okay,’ Parker said.
‘I’m thinking of some friends of mine,’ Norte said, ‘naturalized citizens. Is that okay?’
‘I gotta have a name that looks like me.’
‘Oh, yes, sure, I know that. You could be Irish, no?’
‘I could be.’
‘Many Irish went to South America,’ Norte told him, ‘in the nineteenth century, did well, the names survive. In Bolivia, other countries, you’ve got your Jose Harrigan, your Juan O’Reilly.’
‘I can’t use “Juan,”’ Parker said.
‘There are names that cross over,’ Norte said. ‘Oscar. Gabriel. Leon. Victor.’
‘Fine.’
‘And when would you like this?’ Norte asked, but laughed before Parker could say anything and said, ‘Never mind, that was not a smart question. You want it as soon as you can get it, no?’
‘Yes.’
‘Texas resident?’
‘That would be best,’ Parker said.
‘And easiest for me. So you want a driver’s license and a birth certificate. Do you need a passport?’
‘No.’
‘Now you surprise me,’ Norte admitted. ‘Most people, that’s the first thing they want.’
‘My troubles are domestic,’ Parker told him.
Norte laughed. ‘All right, Mr Lynch,’ he said, ‘you can stop being Mr Lynch, I think, in three days’ time. Is that all right?’
‘That’s fine,’ Parker said.
Norte said, ‘But then again, you haven’t been Mr Lynch all that long, have you? Never mind, that wasn’t a question. You didn’t bring a photo, did you?’
‘No.’
‘We can do that here,’ Norte assured him. ‘The other thing is money.’
‘I know.’
‘Driver’s license, birth certificate, both with legitimate sources. Ten thousand. Cash, of course.’
‘I like cash,’ Parker said.
‘There’s so little of it around these days,’ Norte said. ‘That would be in advance. Sorry, but it’s best that way.’
Parker said, ‘Will you be here in half an hour?’
‘If you intend to be,’ Norte told him.
Parker got to his feet. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Norte,’ he said.
‘And you, Mr Lynch.’
11
When Parker went back to Norte’s office half an hour later, he’d made two stops, the first at a drugstore where he’d bought reading glasses of the lowest possible magnification, 1.25, and a dark brown eyebrow pencil. The glasses were squarish and blackframed, and the eyebrow pencil would work to emphasize his new mustache. And the second stop he’d made, in the far corner of a supermarket parking lot, had been to open a door panel and remove from inside it ten thousand in cash.
Again he rang the bell and walked in, and again the guard dog looked up from his fotonovelato watch Parker cross the room. Norte was on the phone, but he said something quiet in Spanish, hung up, and got smiling to his feet. ‘Right on time,’ he said.
He wanted to shake hands again, so Parker shook his hand, then took out the money and placed it on the desk. Norte smiled at it. ‘You don’t mind if I count.’
