Reboot Page 5

  Houdini shrugged. “Early Friday morning, we went through your wall safe, behind the original Homer watercolor hanging in your living room. It contained a treasure trove of useful information.”

  “Early Friday morning? I was sleeping upstairs!”

  “By yourself.”

  “What?”

  “My associates are very thorough.” Houdini paused, and then said, “Look, you have a choice. You can either get screwed by your wife – figuratively, not literally it seems – or you can let me do my job. If you have no stomach for my methods, get out of the tub and go home. You’ll never hear from me again.”

  Rob stared at the bald man across the tub from him. He was right. Disaster was looming on the horizon. The logical side of Rob was asking, what’s the problem? The emotional side was asking you want me to do what? Rob asked, “So where are we going with all this? What am I buying?”

  Houdini took another gulp of water. “A new life.”

  “You mean a new identity? In a new location?”

  “Yes.”

  Rob stared at the bubbles for a long moment. “There’s certainly nothing to keep me here.”

  “We have not discussed family and friends.”

  Rob snorted. “Family? My brother hasn't spoken a word to me in years. He'll never know I've gone. And my mom, well, she's full-blown dementia. The doctor has given her three months. No, she won't miss me. Friends?” Rob paused a beat. “I’ll miss my fishing pals – especially my buddy Mike DuPont - but what the hell, I’m sure there are more wherever I’m going. Collateral damage I suppose.” He paused again. “And the only woman I ever loved is long gone. So, no. Not to worry.”

  “Tell me about the only woman you ever loved.”

  Rob stared up at the ceiling. “Anna Becker. She was my girlfriend, my lover, before Nicole. I broke it off because I thought Nicole was a better fit with the direction my life was heading. Big mistake.”

  Houdini shrugged. “It is what it is. This new identity we are discussing will only work if you are willing to turn your back on everything and everyone. Can you do that?”

  Rob paused. “Wow. Everything? Everyone?” Then he shook his head yes. “I believe I can. It may be my only choice.”

  “And how about Anna, the only woman you ever loved?”

  Rob smiled. “That was twenty years ago. The last I heard, she married some rich French photographer and moved to Europe. No, not to worry,” Rob said with a touch of resignation, “She’s gone.”

  Houdini took off his glasses, which had fogged again, and placed them on the edge of the tub. “You have not mentioned your daughters.”

  Rob closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “They have long ago abandoned me and are totally, exclusively, in Nicole’s camp. I don’t see that changing. Once the divorce goes through, I’m absolutely certain they’ll never speak to me again. Up until the age of five or so, we were a family, but then, they changed. I blame Nicole for teaching them how to be mean and cruel, but I guess I have to own some of that shit as well. Maybe I've been a neglectful father; I don't know. Truthfully, I have no idea what happened, but as far as I'm concerned, they are two cruel young women who will grow up to be cruel adults. Any affection we ever had for each other has withered and died. And I know this makes me a no-good, rotten, son-of-a-bitch, but so be it.”

  “I do not judge. I just do my job, and once the project is completed, you are on your own. I go away and you vanish. However, if you are going to succeed, you need to be absolutely certain of your conviction.”

  Rob nodded again. “I get it. I am.”

  The men sat in silence, listening to the gurgling water. Then Rob asked, “What are my chances of living happily ever after?”

  “That’s up to you. There is of course, always the risk of someone recognizing you at some point, but if no one is looking for you, the chances of that are slim.”

  “Looking for me?”

  Houdini drained his bottle of water. "If you disappear, who knows? Your wife may have a change of heart – one way or the other if you get my drift. She may become enraged and spare no expense to find you, to drag you into court," he paused, "Or worse. Incidentally, that scenario is my greatest concern. And it could go the other way. It is not without precedent that the cheating wife makes an about face and actually misses you – strange as it may seem – and goes looking for you to make amends. Sometimes, when circumstances change, people do as well. And never forget, she has the financial resources to hire the best bloodhounds in the business. As I said, this is my greatest concern. But others may be looking for you as well. Maybe the IRS will perform an audit on a previous tax return and need to speak with you. They can be most persistent. Maybe when your mother dies, your brother will feel the need to re-connect. Again, it happens all the time. There are any number of reasons – most quite innocent – that someone would seek you out. But, if no one is looking for you and if you keep to the plan, I think your chances are very good.”

  Rob drank some water. Houdini was right: he needed the fluids. “So how,” Rob asked, “Are you going to keep people from looking for me?”

  Houdini raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Why, you are going to die of course.”

  10

  The Ball Begins to Roll

  Houdini lifted himself out of the hot tub, stood on skinny white legs, and then dried himself with a large, luxurious towel. “It is time we leave.” He tossed a second towel atop of Rob’s pile of clothing.

  “Hold on. What’s this about me dying?”

  Houdini was pulling on a bulky blue sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. "I will be in the back of the parking lot. I drive a white Mercedes. We can finish up there." As was his habit, he turned and left the room without another word or backward glance.

  Rob dried himself with shaking hands. We are going to fake my death. How? Is there anything here that you can’t live without? But the big question is…is this really what you want to do? He pulled on his clothes, tossed the damp towel into the laundry bin, and then said aloud, “Yes, I believe it is.”

  A few minutes later, Rob pulled his Volvo alongside the white Mercedes. The window rolled down, and Houdini said, "Get in."

  “I can see,” Rob said, getting into Houdini’s car, “You still don’t trust I’m for real.”

  “We are well past the issue of trust,” Houdini replied. “If I still had any doubts, I would be gone. Instead, it is vitally important we are not seen together.”

  “Okay. Now, what’s this about me dying?”

  Houdini held onto the steering wheel, watching the parking lot. “I have not decided how just yet, but for sure, we must create an illusion of your death.”

  “But why? Why can’t I just…”

  “Because,” Houdini said, with a tone of exasperation, “If you are dead, no one comes looking for you. Remember? We already talked about that.” He paused, then said, “Consider this fact: facial recognition erodes swiftly when the observer believes a person dies. Consider a dying parent. Often, within a year after the parent dies, the child cannot accurately remember what their parent looked like in the last year before their death. They most certainly can recall earlier years, when the parent was younger, but the final period of time leading up to death is often unrecallable. This is what we want to happen with you. If the world thinks you are dead, your image in their memories will fade rapidly. And as you change over time, you will become less recognizable with each passing day. Understand?”

  “I get that but…”

  “Consider the issue surrounding MIA soldiers. Once their remains are found - Vietnam, Korea, even dating back to World War Two - the surviving family always says something like ‘now I can move forward.’ In other words, now I believe they are gone and can think of them in the past. It is vital that those who know you believe you are dead.”

  “Okay, okay,” Rob said defensively. “I get it.”

  "Now," Houdini began, "this is very important. The faster we make this happen, the bett
er. Dragging out the planning process only increases the chances of mistakes or raising suspicions. The route I have chosen for you is as follows: you die an accidental death, take on a new identity, and move to the rural part of the American West. If all goes according to plan, you will need to lay low for a year or so. Life will go on for your family and friends, and as I said, you will soon become a faded memory."

  “That’s cheery,” Rob quipped.

  Houdini drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, never taking his eyes off the mostly empty parking lot. “We are now at the proverbial crossroads. If you want to turn back, it must be now. If you choose to proceed, there will be no turning back. Understand?”

  “Understand.”

  “And?”

  Rob took in a long breath, trying to crush the butterflies in his stomach, and then exhaled slowly. “Let’s do it.”

  Houdini nodded. “Okay. You have four tasks that you must begin immediately. First, you must start working at home one day per week. And it cannot be the same day. A Tuesday this week, Thursday the next, and so on. Tell your boss and staff that issues at home with the children are forcing this temporary situation. Make sure your wife and kids know about this. We do not want any surprises.”

  Rob chuckled. “I get your drift.”

  “Will your daughters be at home?”

  “No,” Rob said. “They’ll be spending the next month or so in Miami, at South Beach, with my wife’s sister. Like all decisions about those two, I was not consulted. My wife feels they’ve been through this big-time trauma - being expelled and all – and need a semester off. Can you believe that shit?”

  Houdini pursed his lips. “This is fortuitous. It will be for the better. They would create a complication if they were at home.” He reached in his shirt pocket, took out a scrap of paper with a phone number printed upon it, and handed it to Rob. “And by the way, do you still have a telephone landline?”

  Rob nodded. “Yeah. Funny you should mention that. I was just getting ready to call the phone company and have it removed. We hardly use it anymore.”

  “Don’t,” said Houdini. “I’m going to need it.”

  “For what?”

  “That’s not your concern,” Houdini replied. “Just leave it as is.”

  Rob shrugged.

  “Now,” Houdini continued, “next, you are to make an appointment at this private clinic and have a pint of blood drawn. Your name is John Brown, and be sure to give the man a fifty dollar bill. “

  “For what?”

  “His memory becomes sketchy for fifty dollars.”

  “Okay.”

  Houdini watched a car drive by, and then said, “Ask the technician to store it. One pint should do the trick.” He thought for a moment then said, “Yes, one pint should suffice.”

  “For what?”

  “Dead people bleed.”

  Rob jammed his hands deep into his coat pockets. “Why can’t you just…”

  “Just what?

  “Just tell me the plan,” Rob blurted. “Instead of feeding me hints and clues. I’m not an idiot!”

  Houdini continued to scan the parking lot. “It is imperative that the events leading up to your disappearance take you – especially you - by complete surprise. Otherwise, you may alter your behavior. Even subconsciously, you may approach your remaining days as Roberto Santos with an uncharacteristic demeanor of one sort or another. This may raise suspicions, which could lead to lingering questions about your death. People love conspiracy theories, which lead to continuing investigations. Please, trust me on this topic. You do not want any investigation.”

  Rob sighed.

  Houdini turned in his seat to face Rob. “This is not easy. Emotions flare up and result in bad choices. Either you trust me or not.”

  Rob nodded. “All right, all right. What’s my third task?”

  "This one is simple. Pay forward your homeowners insurance for at least one year. Two would be better."

  Rob blinked. “You are full of surprises. Can I ask why?”

  “Yes, and you will find out soon, very soon, but for now, just pay it.”

  “But,” Rob asked, “Won’t this raise suspicions? What if they want to know why?”

  Houdini went back to monitoring the traffic in the parking lot. “You paid your charge card forward by ten-thousand dollars last year. Why did you do that?”

  "Because I was going to be traveling…" Rob stopped. "Hold on, how did you know that?”

  Houdini raised his eyebrows and looked at Rob.

  “Okay, okay,” Rob said, holding up his hand in a stop gesture. “I know, the World Wide Web knows all. Is there anything you don't know about me?"

  Houdini squinted his eyes. “Very little I suspect. And please take my word for it. Any service providers – such as insurance firms – enjoy being paid in advance. I doubt if there will be any questions.”

  Rob exhaled noisily. "Okay, I get it. Now, what's number four?"

  Houdini handed Rob another piece of paper. “When is the next time your wife will not be home for two days?”

  Rob said, “Well, that would be this weekend. First thing Saturday morning, she’s taking the girls to Florida. I believe she said she’d be back on Tuesday. Why?”

  “This one is tricky,” Houdini said, again turning in his seat to look at Rob when he spoke. “Will she be flying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Listen carefully. When you verify her flight has departed – you can track flights on the internet – call this number.” He pointed at the paper in Rob’s hand. “Tell the person who answers you are John Brown, a client of Houdini, and will be departing in fifteen minutes. The person on the phone will give you an address. Then, carefully, remove the four original Homers you have hanging in your house – taking careful note which one is hanging where - slide them into pillowcases, lay them across the back seat of your car, and drive to the given location. You will likely be dropping them off at the back door of this establishment, but he will give you those directions. Follow so far?"

  Rob was puzzled but nodded.

  “It is likely,” Houdini continued, “he will take several hours to complete the task so be prepared to wait. I suggest bringing a book and spending some time at a local coffee shop.”

  Rob help up his hand. “I know I’m not supposed to ask any questions but this time, could you at least give me an idea of what’s going on?”

  “Of course,” Houdini replied. “Your four original Homers, the estimated value of roughly three million dollars in total…"

  “THREE MILLION?” Rob interrupted. “ARE YOU SHITTIN’ ME?”

  “You were unaware of their value?”

  “That’s a monumental understatement! I figured them to be worth maybe ten grand each. Three million! Jesus Christ.”

  "Now, they are to be copied using a process known as giclee. If you are unfamiliar with this type of reproduction, it is very good. I doubt anyone will be able to tell the difference, especially behind that glare-proof glass you have chosen."

  “Not my choice,” Rob interrupted again. “That was my father-in-law’s doing. And you don’t have to worry about them being noticed. I doubt if anyone in my house has given them a second look for the last five years.”

  “All the same,” Houdini said. “Like all facets of this plan, it is best that nothing is unusual or altered in any way.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “When you receive a call from the shop, return to the back door, take the copies back home, and hang them in the exact location they came from. Clear?”

  “Clear. So what’s going on with the paintings?”

  Houdini pondered the question for a moment. “I suppose you can be in the know about this. The shop will sell your Homers, take a fee, and turn the balance over to you. I suspect in the end, you will receive about two million dollars. This will take about ten days.”

  Rob opened his mouth and then shut it again, trying to digest the latest information. Finally, he said, "Two mi
llion dollars? The first of many questions that pop into my mind is where the hell am I going to put it so Nicole doesn't see it?"

  “Well,” Houdini replied, with a hint of a smile. “You are finally starting to think along the correct track. Excellent question. We are making progress. The answer is into your new account.”

  Rob blinked a few times. “What new account?”

  “The one at Grand Cayman International Financial Center.”

  “What? I don’t have…. When did this…. What?”

  “Three days ago.”

  “So I’m going to have an offshore account with two million in it. Wow. Not bad.”

  “Actually, there will be about five million when we are complete our arrangement.”

  Rob shook his head and stared at Houdini. “Five million? Where’s the other three million coming from?”

  Houdini started the car. “We sold your boat.”

  11

  Bedroom Talk

  While Houdini and Rob were meeting in the Westford Regency hot tub, Nicole and William were completing a mid-morning rendezvous across the street in the Hilton VIP Suite. William provided private masseuse services to selected Hilton customers, and occasionally, when the suite was unoccupied, he and Nicole took advantage of the opulent setting for an opportunistic tryst.

  William rolled off Nicole and lay panting by her side. He stroked her hair. “How was that for you, my love?”

  Nicole sighed. “I do wish you wouldn’t stop until I tell you. How many times do I have to ask? We’ve been over this before.”

  William rolled onto his back, clearly wounded.

  Nicole propped herself up on an elbow. "Look, you've got a body Venus would die for, and you're hung like a bull, but you've got the head of a box of rocks. Keep going! It takes me longer than it takes you."

  William pursed his lips. “Maybe we try again?”

  “No,” Nicole got out of bed and headed for the shower. “I’ve got to get home before he does. Get up! Come shower with me. I need my back massaged.”