11/30/14
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Leo lifted the lid of the garbage cart and began pulling out bags. He didn’t want the large black ones or the tall, white ones; those always held the wet, stinking slop from the kitchen cans. He was looking for the shopping bags from office supply stores. These were often used for emptying the trash cans in home offices. People could be so predictable.
Bingo! He found the type of bag he sought and faintly made out the discarded mail inside. He tossed the treasure on the seat of his Ford Taurus then returned the unwanted bags to the garbage cart. He mustn’t inadvertently tip off the homeowners their trash had been rifled.
He slowly cruised the dim street of middle class homes looking through more garbage carts. In less than an hour he had bags of discarded mail from eight families. The next step took a bit longer, but he was practiced at sorting the bank and credit card envelopes from the junk mail and personal letters.
Credit card companies regularly included with their statements blank cash advance forms which looked like personal checks. But many people forgot to tear them up before dropping them in the trash. Leo loved these things; he merely had to sign them and they became instant cash.
He also liked the “pre-approved” offers for new credit cards. Just fill in the name and address from the home where he found it, make up an employer and salary, then wait for the new card to arrive at his P.O. box. He could easily run it to the limit before the victim received notice and cancelled it.
Oh, wow! Score! Here was a mother-load of personal information. The bag from that first house held an application for a new life insurance policy. The man had completely filled it out and even signed it before throwing it away. Apparently — who was it? — Mr. Vincent Piccolo, had changed his mind.
This held everything Leo needed to create a false identity — birthdate, social security, family names — everything. There was even a sample of the guy’s signature. Sweet! This would be so easy.
Within a few hours the new Vincent Piccolo had applied for three credit cards, opened lines of credit with two online retailers, and had reserved a new Cadillac Escalade at Savers Car Rental. He had even been able to access the old Mr. Piccolo’s bank account and transfer a half-million dollars to his own account. Thank you insurance application for his mother’s maiden name!
Two nights later he was at the post office and had just put his key in the lock of the mailbox door when the large glass window behind him shattered and a small hole appeared in the door of the mailbox just to the right of his face. He fell to the floor and covered his head with his hands. He recognized a gunshot when he heard one. Especially when its bullet passed an inch from his head! He listened for footsteps, ready to jump and run if he heard so much as a cat’s tread. Instead there was only the sound of an engine starting and speeding away.
Damn! Why would someone want to shoot him? Sure, people got mad when they lost a little money; but no one had taken it this hard before. He got to his feet and dashed to the wall between the window and the door. He peeked out at the parking lot, but saw nothing.
He was halfway home when he had an idea. He turned left at the next cross-street and watched behind to see if anyone was following, then he headed to where the other Mr. Piccolo lived. He turned off the headlights and stopped a block away. Even from here he could see the house was dark and no cars were in the driveway. Could this be the one who had shot at him?
He turned around and went back the way he came, not wanting to get near the place. He’d only gone a couple of blocks when a car raced up behind him and began flashing blue lights. Leo pulled over to the edge of the street and rolled down the window. The car behind him turned off its blue lights, then two men in suits got out and walked up.
“Mr. Piccolo?” said the first one. “I’m Agent Richards with the FBI, and this is my partner Agent Dalton. We’d like to talk to you, please.”
“You’ve stopped the wrong person, officer,” said Leo. “I’m not Mr. Piccolo. My name’s Leo Tarn.”
“That’s what we want to talk about. Even though you’re trying to change your identity yourself, the people after you won’t be fooled. You need our Witness Protection Program if you want to stay alive.”
“No, you don’t understand,” protested Leo. “Really! I’m not Vincent Piccolo!”
“Uh, huh. I didn’t mention his first name.”
“I, um, I …”
“You’re in danger every minute you stay out on your own. Here’s my card. If you change your mind, give me a call. But believe me, you won’t be hard to find; even with a new name, Leo.”
The two agents smiled and returned to their car. Since they just sat behind him without leaving, Leo started his car and drove away. He was even more shaken now than when he had left the post office.
He hurried home and called out to his girlfriend. “Beth! Beth, come quick.”
“What is it?” she asked, coming from the bedroom and rubbing her eyes.
“Get dressed,” he said hurriedly. “Then get packed as fast as you can.”
“What? What’s going on? What’d you do?”
“We don’t have time for that. Get dressed and get packed. We gotta get out of here. Move it!” He gave her a shove.
Leo found two suitcases and took them to the bedroom. He threw one on Beth’s side of the bed, then opened the second on his side. He grabbed clothes without any attention. He got the pistol from under the mattress and tossed it into the suitcase, then ignored Beth when she asked about it. Finally, he ran to the bathroom and came back with his razor, his hairbrush, and both toothbrushes.
He zipped his suitcase closed and asked, “Are you finished yet?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Like, how am I supposed to know what to take? You haven’t given me any time. What do I need?”
“Never mind. Whatever you forget we’ll buy new. Now finish quickly. I just remembered something in the attic.”
He carried his suitcase to the front door, then went to the garage. He kept a small box filled with emergency cash, hidden beneath the insulation in the ceiling’s crawlspace. He had the ladder in place and was halfway up when Beth came out.
“I’ve put my suitcase by the door, like yours. What do I do now?”
Leo reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to the Escalade. “Here,” he said, dropping them to her. “Put the cases in the car. I’ll be right out.”
“Okay. But if I have to load, I get to drive. I haven’t even had a turn with the new car yet.”
“Whatever.”
He pushed open the access door, then cursed as dirt and crumbs of insulation fell on his face. He climbed halfway into the crawlspace, retrieved his cash box, then maneuvered back out again. He had closed the access door and was starting down the ladder when he heard Beth slamming the car door out in the driveway.
As he rushed out of the garage to go around to the front door a tremendous explosion shook the entire house, and he was knocked to his knees. He looked back. The garage door had been blown inward, and he could see the car completely engulfed in flames. He turned his head away. He didn’t want to see the shape which was burning in the driver’s seat.
He grabbed his cashbox and went to the sliding glass doors beside the kitchen. He ran across the back yard, then cut between the houses to get to the next street over. He walked swiftly down the sidewalk trying to think what to do. Perhaps he could go to the gas station and call a cab.
A dark sedan rolled up beside him as he walked. The window opened and a voice called, “Get in.”
Behind him the sky was glowing from the burning car, and in front of him he heard sirens approaching. It seemed he was out of options. He opened the door and got in.
“You’re not Agent Richards,” he said as he looked to his left.
“No,” the driver smiled. “But you know me.” He then drove quickly away from the awakening neighborhood.
“Are you the one who shot at me?” Leo asked. “And did that?” He motioned behind them.
“No,” the man answered. “That was done by the people hunting for Vincent Piccolo.”
“But I’m not him!”
“Oh? Then who are you?”
“I’m Leo Tarn. I can prove it. I have ID.”
“Show me.”
As Leo shifted to reach his back pocket, the man pulled the car into the parking lot of a small office plaza. He drove behind the buildings and shut off the engine.
“Come on, we can go in here,” he said.
Exiting the car, the man unlocked the back door to one of the offices, and held it for Leo. Leo got out and joined him inside. They went to an inner office, and Leo sat where directed while the man went behind the desk.
“Let me see your ID,” the man said.
Leo handed over his wallet so the guy could see whatever form of identification might appease him. The man saw there was a drivers license, credit cards, and even a voters card. At last he was satisfied; but he didn’t hand the wallet back.
“So, Mr. Tarn,” he said. “You still haven’t figured out who I am?”
Leo shook his head. “Are you FBI?”
The man laughed loudly. “No. But you might wish I was before long. No, I’m Vincent Piccolo.”
“You’re Vincent Piccolo?”
“Yes. And as you’ve seen, there are some unhappy people looking for me. But to my good fortune, you came along and picked up my identity. So now, I’m quite content to let you keep it. I’ll just take yours in return. That’s fair enough, isn’t it? And I see you’ve even been nice enough to move my money to your account, so I’m good to go.”
“But those people are trying to kill you!”
“Yes. And once they succeed — with you that is — they’ll be content. And I’ll be free to go my way as Leo Tarn. I don’t know what scams you’ve pulled besides a little identity theft, but I’m sure you’re nowhere near as hot as I am.”
“But they’ll see I’m not the real you.”
“Oh, not so. They’ve never met me. They only know my name. And where to look for me. In fact, since I’ve just accessed my computer to check your bank account, I expect them to arrive fairly soon.”
“How did you trick me into this?!” Leo yelled.
“I didn’t. You did it to yourself. I just happened to benefit from your little scheme. Ah, I think I hear them out front. So, I’ll just duck out the back. You can stay and get acquainted.”
The man dashed from the room. By the time Leo caught on and chased after him, the back door was locked. He turned around and saw two large shapes coming swiftly down the dark hallway.
“Game over, Vinny,” one of them growled.
“Wait, I’m not Vincent Piccolo,” Leo yelled.
“Nice try, but no more tricks,” the voice said again.
Leo saw several flashes of light. Then nothing else.
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