by D. R. Bell
“What about politics? That seemed to excite you.”
“Yes, but it was the excitement of having a common cause. The movement dissolved into political bickering and backstabbing. I remember feeling so numb and disappointed. I had faith in something back in 2004, and then it just turned into an empty spot. I tried my hand at college again, this time in literature. And then I fell in love for the first time.”
“Who was he?”
“An older man, a writer.”
“What happened?”
“I was just one of his affairs, nothing more. It ended. So did my second college attempt. Then my parents sat me down for a talk. Dad said: ‘You are twenty-two. You don’t know what to do with your life. Make a change, go do something. We have a bit of money put aside for you. Go to Europe, go to America, discover your passion. Don’t just sit here and mope. Find what you want to do and where you want to live, and we’ll help you.’ ”
David was lying still, afraid that any motion, any contact with her would provoke his body to react, embarrassing him. “And you did?”
“Yes, like so many Europeans before, I headed to America. I visited New York but didn’t see it as a place for me, so I continued to California. Subleased a place in Westwood and took a summer course in historical economics at UCLA. When I returned to Kiev in the fall of 2012, I told my parents that I knew what I wanted to do and where I wanted to be. Mom cried. I moved to Los Angeles in 2013 and enrolled in UCLA to study economics. Got my degree in 2017 and stayed on in graduate school.”
“Have you been back to Kiev?”
“Yes, I go to see my parents every other year.” She turned her head to look at him. “So, that’s my life story.”
“Wait, I have more questions. You never told me about your favorite movies or books.”
“Next time.” Maggie smiled, reaching for him. She smelled of chocolate and tequila. “It’s late and I have other things in mind.” She ended up staying most of the night and snuck out early in the morning while David was still asleep.
Thursday, 4/28/2022, 7:21 a.m. PDT
Sasha woke David up. “We have a busy day. Let’s go.”
David hadn’t gotten enough sleep, but he didn’t complain. Spending a night with a woman but waking up alone; that was his love life lately. Still, this was different. He couldn’t just get up and leave for his place. His anxiety was mixed with excitement.
After a quick breakfast of coffee and bagels with cream cheese, David, Maggie, and Oleg piled into a Cadillac Eldorado (How many different cars do they have?), and Sasha drove them to meet the mysterious Javier. On the way, Sasha explained again that Javier was an expert in changing identities. David wondered aloud what that meant. Sasha just smiled and said, “You’ll see. He is very good at what he does. By the time he’s done with you, you’ll have totally new lives.”
Maggie protested. “But I like my life. Or at least parts of it. I was only a year away from completing my PhD. I thought maybe we’d only need some temporary arrangement until this blows over.”
Sasha shrugged. “I’m sorry. I think I understand what it’s like. But I also think your old life is gone, whether you want it or not. The news reports today are full of ‘mafia war’ headlines. Three people are dead at Andrei’s house: Andrei, Tamara, and an unidentified man, one of Petr’s people. Three people are dead at Balboa Lake Park. And four people at Frank’s house.”
Maggie said, “OK,” in a tone that seemed to communicate I guess I’ll have to go along with this for now but I am not convinced.
David asked, “What do they say about Frank?”
“There is a puzzlement about his role, but since one of the dead people—Petr— is known as Andrei’s right-hand man, the speculation is that Frank perhaps needed the money and somehow got connected to drug trafficking.”
“Oh my God …”
“There’s not much to do about it now. Maybe when things calm down a bit, you can find a way to communicate to his children about their father’s real role.”
“And what about Mr. Chao … I mean, Hsu? Petr had him followed and was planning to eliminate him because Hsu learned too much.”
“Petr obviously never got the chance. Two people got away from us at Balboa Lake, the guy that was questioning you—I presume it was Hsu—was one of them. I guess Petr’s men didn’t attack because they were waiting for Petr. At least there is no report yet. At this point we have to assume that Hsu is still out there, and so are some of Petr’s people, and they may all be looking for you. Plus your car was seen at the lake and at Frank’s house, and our car was at Andrei’s and at Frank’s.”
“So what should we do about cars?”
“I’m sorry, but your Honda has been stripped, taken to a yard, and was crushed yesterday. We didn’t want to keep it near Miguel’s house. By now it’s probably fully recycled. Black BMW SUV hybrids are fairly common, and the license plates we had on yesterday were fake.”
Maggie quietly said, “And what about James?”
“His death is being reported as natural causes. They may have given him potassium or something like it. I’m sorry.”
They arrived at a large house in South Torrance, parked in the driveway, and walked to the door. Before Sasha had a chance to ring the bell, the door opened and a man said with a smile, “Please come in, come in. Make yourself at home.” He looked to be in his late forties. Short, olive skinned, fine-featured, wearing a white silk shirt and black pants. The man introduced himself to David and Maggie as Javier DeLuna. After pouring everyone a cup of coffee, Javier took them to a large room where they were joined by a Mediterranean-looking woman in her thirties, whom Javier introduced as “Alessandra, my wife and assistant.”
Everyone sat down, and Javier asked David and Maggie to tell him about themselves: age, family, occupation, where they spent their childhood. He apologized for appearing nosy, but explained that to create a good identity he needed to match it to their past. Javier questioned Maggie about which East European countries and cities she’d been to. When she mentioned being in Prague in 2011, he asked her about details of the trip.
After David and Maggie answered his questions, Javier turned to Alessandra and said, “Let’s work on hairstyle and coloring and a bit of makeup then take them shopping.” He explained to David and Maggie that Alessandra was an experienced stylist and makeup artist, and would try to modify their appearance in a way that did not require extensive maintenance on their part. He got up and excused himself, saying he had to analyze what he had in the meantime.
Alessandra also excused herself. “I need a few minutes to prepare. Then I’ll come get you.”
David turned to Sasha. “He is going to create a new appearance and new life story for me just like that?”
Sasha laughed. “Yes and no. Yes, he will create not only a new appearance and life story, but also all the documents that have to go with it. No, he does not do it ‘just like that.’ There is a lot of work that has gone into this already. Javier has ‘prepackaged’ identities with the documents that require photos and filling in of the details, but ninety percent of the work has been done already. It’s possible of course to tailor an identity ‘on order,’ with plastic surgery and all, but that’s very expensive and takes a lot of time.”
“And this is not expensive?” David asked.
“Of course it is expensive, but it’s worth it. Javier is one of the best in his field.”
“But how can we pay for this?”
“David,” Oleg said gently, “you had a million dollars in hundred dollar bills on the back seat of your car. We are taking some of that money to pay Javier; the rest will be deposited into bank accounts that come with the prepackaged identity Javier will provide you. You’ll have some cash and traveler’s checks on you, but you don’t want to carry too much.”
David sat there dumbfounded. He’d completely forgotten about Mr. Hsu’s briefcase.
Maggie, who’d forgotten about the money as well, smiled at David. “And I
thought you were poor. Perhaps your luck is changing.”
Javier and Alessandra came back. Javier showed Maggie a small photo of a pretty blonde woman in her twenties with Slavic features and said, “What do you think of this?”
Maggie stared at the picture and then slowly nodded. Alessandra motioned to Maggie to come with her.
After they left, David asked Oleg, “So what are your plans?”
“I am flying to Mexico City later today.”
“Already?”
Sasha cut in. “David, the people we are dealing with are not stupid. I’m sure they’ve figured out by now that Oleg’s body is not among those from yesterday’s shootings. They will be looking for him very soon, if not already.”
“Shouldn’t you be changing your identity and appearance then? Avoiding airports?” David said to Oleg.
“Alex and I have had another set of documents for a number of months now. We figured Andrei was skating on thin ice. I think today I should still be OK. They might be watching LAX, but with seven terminals it’s a challenge. In any case, I’ll be flying out of John Wayne airport in Orange County. I doubt they have resources to watch smaller regional airports yet. So, while Alessandra is working on Maggie, let’s discuss what your next steps will be.”
David said, “The first step is pretty clear: find Schulmann’s sister Sarah and his niece Rachel. Frank said Sarah was in Phoenix, so that’s a start. After that, I don’t know yet. I hope it will lead somewhere. I also would like to better understand Schulmann’s connection to Mitchell Williams. I wonder if there is more significance there than we currently realize.”
Oleg nodded. “This sounds like a good place to start. If you hit a dead end, come find me in Mexico. I’ll leave you with contact information. There is a good reason to make the initial plans here and now. Javier deals in identities, and because of that he knows how to look for people. He can provide other services as well: helping people disappear, shaking off a tail, hiding a money trail. Make sure you know how to contact him.”
“Is his name really Javier?”
“No, of course not. But it’s a good name to use. Do you remember the name of Petr’s boss?”
“Yes, General Nemzhov. Do you think it’s true?”
“Yes, I do. He had no reason to lie.”
Javier returned. “I think I found it!”
“Found what?” asked David.
“Why, your new identity of course.”
“And?”
“All in good time, all in good time. Alessandra is still busy with your lady friend.”
Oleg jumped in. “There are some people we have to find for David. There was a man by the name Jonathan Schulmann, spelling starts with S-C-H and ends with a double N. He was killed in 2020 in the same explosion as Mitchell Williams. We need to find people related to him. We’ve been told that he had a sister Sarah that lives in Arizona, probably Phoenix area. She had a daughter named Rachel who is likely to be in college now.”
“This Schulmann guy, he must have done something important?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“You are right, I don’t.” Javier turned to David. “Why don’t I take you to Alessandra, and while she is working on you I’ll see what I can find.” David followed him. They entered a well-lit room that looked like a combination of a small hair salon and a dressing room. Maggie was there, sitting under a large hair dryer that covered the top of her head. Javier gave Alessandra a picture, reminded her to take David’s and Maggie’s fingerprints, and left. The picture was of a dark-haired man in his late twenties or early thirties. David thought that there was some resemblance. Alessandra went to work.
Thursday, 4/28/2022, 10:37 a.m. PDT
Alessandra brought Maggie and David back to the big room. Oleg and Sasha stared at Maggie and whistled. She waved them off in embarrassment. Her hair was now blonde, layered in pretty curls around her face. A bit of expertly applied makeup had taken a couple of years off and given her a subtle air of refinement. David’s transformation was less dramatic. Mostly his hair was darker and his features softened.
Javier seemed pleased with what he saw. He sat everyone down and said to David and Maggie, “Let me explain what we do here. We are not some cheap outfit, where they slap your photo onto a blank passport or a fake driver’s license. That would work if you’re trying to get into a bar or flying to Mexico for an affair. We are kind of like an extreme version of that old show called Ultimate Makeover. We create a new identity for you that would withstand some scrutiny, which—being careful—you can live with for a period of time. You probably won’t fool the FBI and you may not fool the IRS for long, but with a bit of preparation you should be able to travel extensively without worrying that the next customs agent will arrest you as a holder of a fake passport.”
“And how do you do that?” David asked.
“By being prepared. Almost a million people are reported missing in the US every year. Most of these cases get cleared up quickly, but there are tens of thousands that are legitimate disappearances. And around the world such cases are in the millions. Sometimes a person is dead, but the death can’t be verified. Sometimes a person disappears because he or she does not want to be found. After some time passes, police lose interest and, except for relatives and the IRS, nobody looks for them anymore. They are not on any ‘wanted’ lists. That’s where we come in.”
“Wouldn’t such a person suddenly appearing raise an alarm somewhere?” Oleg wondered.
“We carefully sift through the missing cases that are at least a year old but not more than five years, trying to find the ones that are ‘safe,’ with no close relatives, where police departments are not likely to look any longer. There are not many that meet our criteria, but we always have files of thirty to forty identities that we can fit people into. Different ages, different races. Each file has a life story, a couple of bank accounts, a credit card, and an address that is really a mail box. We make sure that there is bit of activity that takes place on the accounts, social networks, and the card, so if the police, FBI, or IRS are looking, we know before we hand the identity over. As you can appreciate, there is a lot of work that goes into this and not all the files end up being used, so our service is not cheap.”
“But I don’t really look like the man in the photo you gave to Alessandra,” David said.
“Of course not. If you truly needed to take someone’s place, you’re talking many months of preparation, plastic surgery, and hundreds of thousands of dollars. Our service is for people who have to ‘disappear’ quickly, but into a reasonably reliable identity.”
“So who are we?” asked Maggie.
“You”—he pointed at Maggie—“are Alena Blazec, born in Prague in 1993. Came to the US in 2016, last known place is Las Vegas in February of 2021. No known living close relatives, father died in 2014, mother in 2019. And you, David, are now Daniel Brockman, born in New Haven, CT in 1989. Studied physics at Rutgers. Parents died in a car crash in 2016. Moved to Orange County, CA in 2014 to work for a semiconductor company in Irvine. Last known place is a rented condo in San Juan Capistrano. Disappeared in December of 2020 while on vacation in Mexico. Are you planning to travel together?”
“Yes,” Maggie replied.
“In that case, it is best we arrange for you to be married. More natural, causes less suspicion. It’s easy enough for us to do a marriage certificate from Las Vegas. Given that Alena was last seen there, we can build a story around it.” Javier got up. “Now let’s snap your photos, and then Alessandra will take you shopping. We have to get you attired for your new lives, enough to get you through the next few days. As I said, this is an ultimate makeover. And don’t worry, it’s included in the price. In the meantime, I will finish preparing your documents.”
Oleg went shopping with them because he also needed new clothes. The four of them—Alessandra, Oleg, Maggie, and David—piled into a car and drove to Del Amo Shopping Center. David hated shopping, so he just let Alessandra and Ma
ggie pick things for him as he tried them on. They walked out with three “guaranteed to fit into an overhead compartment” rolling bags, one each for Maggie, David, and Oleg, filled with clothing and whatnots for traveling.
They got back around one thirty, feeling tired and hungry. Javier had some food waiting for them, but no sit-down lunch as time was short. Oleg had a 5:40 p.m. flight to Mexico City; Maggie and David were booked on a 6:00 p.m. flight to Phoenix, also from John Wayne airport. Javier handed them files containing their life stories, driver’s licenses, passports, credit cards, bank accounts, linked PayPal accounts funded for $500, checkbooks, and a big wad of cash. There were also instructions from Alessandra on how to maintain their new appearances. Each got a box of contact lenses, a cell phone, and a laptop.
“The contacts are to confuse Retina ID systems,” Javier explained. “There are rumors of such systems being deployed in some airports. Personally I doubt it, but better safe than sorry. The contacts don’t change your eye color or your vision, and you can re-use them. We also recommend you use computers for most of your communication. Many people just rely on their phones now, but computers are safer when used properly. Computers and phones are matched to your biometrics, you can add passwords if you like.”
Javier went through a short training with Maggie and David, getting them to practice their new names and new lives. He made them promise that they would continue practicing for the next few days, but destroy the “life story” documents afterwards, and definitely before they decide to go abroad.
Javier brought out another thin file with a few e-paper printouts. “This is secure e-paper matched to your fingerprints, either one of you can activate it.” One page was information about Sarah Kaufman, Jonathan’s sister. She was indeed living in Scottsdale, a suburb of Phoenix, working as a real estate agent in a national firm. Javier suggested contacting her at work. Another page was information about Rachel Kaufman, a sophomore at NYU. Printout pictures of Sarah and Rachel were included. Then there was one page with e-mails and phones to use for different situations, including e-mails that had been set up for them. There was also an emergency voice mailbox for contacting Javier.
