Free Without a Hitch by Andrew Price Page B

the documents.  That was always part of the plan.  Since I used my real
numbers, the risk was low if things went wrong.  Even if the cops got involved,
they would assume something went wrong when the DMV issued me the license. 
They’d probably just make me get a new one.”
    “So what
happened with the bank?”
    “Nothing.  They
didn’t even blink.  I was in and out in five minutes.”
    “I take it you
weren’t nervous?”  Corbin’s lack of nervousness had become a point of
frustration for Beckett.
    “Not for a
second.”
    Beckett smiled
through gritted teeth.  “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
    Corbin
chuckled.  “I’ll take your word for it.  By the way, take another look at the
fake social.  Do you see anything just below the seal?”
    Beckett put the
card to his eye.  “There’s some dirt or something, but I can’t make it out.”
    Corbin pulled a
magnifying glass from his desk.  “Here, use this.”
    “It looks like a
number. . . a credit card number?”
    “When I scanned
my social into the computer, I discovered the number from one of my credit
cards imprinted on the social security card itself, probably from being pressed
together in my wallet.  I used the image editor to rearrange the number and
then transfer the new number to the fake social.  Now, if the cops examine the
social, they’ll find a partial credit card number imprint.  No doubt, they’ll
assume the forger got careless.  If this ever goes to trial, they’ll have to
explain that investigation to the jury.  Since none of us owns a card with that
number, it’ll implicate someone other than us.”
    “Whose number is
it?”
    “Kak’s.”
    Beckett choked. 
“Are you crazy!”
    “I’m kidding. 
I’m kidding.  Trust me, the thought of pinning this on Kak might be viscerally
satisfying, but it would also be very stupid.”
    “Then whose
number is it?”
    “I have no
idea.  The first part of the number indicates a New York bank.”
    “If you don’t
know who the card belongs to, how do you know you aren’t setting somebody up to
take the fall for us?”
    “Listen to
yourself.  Do you understand the level of coincidence that would entail?”
    Beckett looked
at Corbin doubtfully.  “You don’t do anything by random chance.  Whose card is
it?”
    Corbin shrugged.
    Beckett’s jaw
suddenly dropped.  “You’re setting somebody up, aren’t you?!”
    Anger flashed
across Corbin’s face.  “What?!  Who the fuck do you think I am, Evan?!”
    Corbin’s outrage
startled Beckett, and he instantly regretted his words.  “I didn’t mean that! 
That came out wrong.  I just don’t want anybody getting hurt because of this.”
    “Neither do I,
Evan,” Corbin spat out.  “But get this straight, if it comes down to someone
else or us, that choice is already made.”
    Beckett didn’t
respond.
    Corbin rose and
walked toward the door, but stopped before opening it.  “As for framing someone,
I left the last three digits off the card number.  The cops can trace it to the
bank, but that’s as far as they’ll get.”  Corbin walked out.
     
    Corbin sat in
the downstairs coffee shop staring through the plate-glass window into the nearly-empty
mall.  He watched Molly approach.  She had a distinctive, yet graceful walk, but
she certainly took her time.  The warming weather made this more apparent, as
gone were the long coats and pantsuits and other heavy clothes.  Her blouses were
getting tighter, her necklines lower, and her skirts shorter.  She’d already
gone from calf length skirts to just above the knee, and if last summer was any
indication, they would get significantly shorter yet.  Today she wore a short
gray skirt and tight black silk blouse.  She wasn’t exactly beautiful, but she
achieved a lot with what she had, and Corbin had to admit she was attractive.
    “Your little
plan not going so well?” Molly asked, as she joined Corbin.
    Corbin smiled. 
“No, everything’s