to be grown over time."
"That was always the best way to do things," said Jane. "I expected it."
"Well, the good news is that once an identity is planted, it grows more quickly. That's much better than it used to be. Once anything is verified by anyone anywhere, it proliferatesâmoves from one data bank to another. That's one of the methods I've been refining since the last time I saw you. I plant articles about imaginary people on Web sites and blogs so that Google will pick them up when anybody searches. I'm constantly updating and expanding. That's all cheap and easy. But the planting of first-rate identities still works best if you can get someone on the inside to create a real record. People who get caught selling things like birth certificates and driver's licenses go away for a long, long time."
"Oh, one more thing," Jane said. "I'd like a simple set, maybe just a California driver's license, with my picture, in the name Delia Monahan."
"Delia Monahan. I take it we're talking about a real, living person?"
"Yes."
"Then I can get a duplicate and doctor it."
"Good. How much are we talking about for everything I want?"
"I'd say we're probably in the vicinity of..." He put a dot beside each item he had written, mouthing "Ten, fifteen, eighteen, twenty-four," then said aloud, "Forty thousand. Could go as high as sixty."
"Can I pay you ten right now, and send the rest later?"
He looked regretful. "Janie, your word is the word of the saints. But the saints are dead. You could die, too."
"Someone has already been looking for this girl, haven't they, Stewart?"
Shattuck pursed his lips and stared at her for a second. "There could be other pregnant twenty-year-olds. I'll let you see if it's the same one." He walked across the room to a second table, woke up a laptop computer that was attached to a printer, and brought up an e-mail message. "Read."
Jane stepped to the computer. The screen read, "Christine Monahan, Female, age twenty, is worth one hundred thousand. Open attachment to see photo gallery." Then it gave an 800 telephone number, but no name or address. Jane said, "Did you open the attachment?"
"No. If I took money for turning in people on the run, how long would I live?"
"May I?"
"Go ahead."
Jane downloaded the attachment and opened it. There were a dozen small pictures on the page. In a couple of them Christine was sitting at a desk that was set on a shiny slate floor in a room that seemed to be all glass with tropical plants behind it, like an atrium. In a few, Christine's hair was long and blond, and in others dark and shorter, pinned behind her head. They seemed to have been taken over a period of years. Jane said, "This isn't good news."
"I expect not."
"But it doesn't change our deal. I still need the ID for her. Can you charge a credit card for the price?"
"How much?"
"All of itâforty thousand."
He looked at the pictures on the screen, then back at Jane. "You barely know her. Are you sure you want to spend that much?"
"Think of the air miles I'll earn."
"That kind of charge usually triggers a phone call. Will you be available to take it and tell the Visa people that it's really you?"
"No, but I'll call them before I drop out of sight, and authorize it."
"That works for me. You can bring her in."
When Jane opened the door, the thin, silent figure was standing on the other side, as she had expected. In the light, she saw it was a pretty woman about thirty, not a teenager. She was wearing a pair of tight black satin pants and an indigo pullover that made her look very slender.
Jane said, "I've got to go outside for a few minutes, and bring someone back."
"I know. You can park closer to the house if you want." The woman opened the front door, and Jane stepped outside.
The night air felt even warmer now that Jane was out of the air-conditioned house. She could see that the streets around the park were still deserted, but she stopped after she was away from the house and listened
"That was always the best way to do things," said Jane. "I expected it."
"Well, the good news is that once an identity is planted, it grows more quickly. That's much better than it used to be. Once anything is verified by anyone anywhere, it proliferatesâmoves from one data bank to another. That's one of the methods I've been refining since the last time I saw you. I plant articles about imaginary people on Web sites and blogs so that Google will pick them up when anybody searches. I'm constantly updating and expanding. That's all cheap and easy. But the planting of first-rate identities still works best if you can get someone on the inside to create a real record. People who get caught selling things like birth certificates and driver's licenses go away for a long, long time."
"Oh, one more thing," Jane said. "I'd like a simple set, maybe just a California driver's license, with my picture, in the name Delia Monahan."
"Delia Monahan. I take it we're talking about a real, living person?"
"Yes."
"Then I can get a duplicate and doctor it."
"Good. How much are we talking about for everything I want?"
"I'd say we're probably in the vicinity of..." He put a dot beside each item he had written, mouthing "Ten, fifteen, eighteen, twenty-four," then said aloud, "Forty thousand. Could go as high as sixty."
"Can I pay you ten right now, and send the rest later?"
He looked regretful. "Janie, your word is the word of the saints. But the saints are dead. You could die, too."
"Someone has already been looking for this girl, haven't they, Stewart?"
Shattuck pursed his lips and stared at her for a second. "There could be other pregnant twenty-year-olds. I'll let you see if it's the same one." He walked across the room to a second table, woke up a laptop computer that was attached to a printer, and brought up an e-mail message. "Read."
Jane stepped to the computer. The screen read, "Christine Monahan, Female, age twenty, is worth one hundred thousand. Open attachment to see photo gallery." Then it gave an 800 telephone number, but no name or address. Jane said, "Did you open the attachment?"
"No. If I took money for turning in people on the run, how long would I live?"
"May I?"
"Go ahead."
Jane downloaded the attachment and opened it. There were a dozen small pictures on the page. In a couple of them Christine was sitting at a desk that was set on a shiny slate floor in a room that seemed to be all glass with tropical plants behind it, like an atrium. In a few, Christine's hair was long and blond, and in others dark and shorter, pinned behind her head. They seemed to have been taken over a period of years. Jane said, "This isn't good news."
"I expect not."
"But it doesn't change our deal. I still need the ID for her. Can you charge a credit card for the price?"
"How much?"
"All of itâforty thousand."
He looked at the pictures on the screen, then back at Jane. "You barely know her. Are you sure you want to spend that much?"
"Think of the air miles I'll earn."
"That kind of charge usually triggers a phone call. Will you be available to take it and tell the Visa people that it's really you?"
"No, but I'll call them before I drop out of sight, and authorize it."
"That works for me. You can bring her in."
When Jane opened the door, the thin, silent figure was standing on the other side, as she had expected. In the light, she saw it was a pretty woman about thirty, not a teenager. She was wearing a pair of tight black satin pants and an indigo pullover that made her look very slender.
Jane said, "I've got to go outside for a few minutes, and bring someone back."
"I know. You can park closer to the house if you want." The woman opened the front door, and Jane stepped outside.
The night air felt even warmer now that Jane was out of the air-conditioned house. She could see that the streets around the park were still deserted, but she stopped after she was away from the house and listened
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