Chapter 4 - A new man


Vince drove Lena's car to a downtown garage and left it. She would find it when the garage charged her rent. In the mean time, he might or might not be charged with auto theft. It depended on whether she wanted to go high profile with charges and how deeply she was involved with the phony FBI crew. He wondered idly how she was doing but figured the drug had a temporary effect. They didn't have reason to kill him until they got what they wanted.

He caught a cab to an old Philly neighborhood where found an apartment building with the address he had in his pocket. He walked up four flights of stairs and knocked on the door.

Mose looked irritated as he reached for the remote.  He knew all the answers on these old rerun game shows, but he enjoyed watching the show anyway and he liked Vanna White. He turned off the TV and rose to answer the door. His armchair was old, and when he pushed himself up it creaked like an old timer in pain.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he shouted as the knocking started again.

Vince could hardly believe his eyes. When the old man opened the door, he wasn't sure this was the man he was looking for, until Mose looked him over and told him to come on in. In the five years since he had seen him, Mose changed from a slender figure of a 56 year old man into a slumped 80 year old man with mottled skin, baggy pants, a scraggly beard and thick glasses. But his voice and attitude were the same as he remembered.

As they shook hands, Mose asked, "How do you like this look? It's the new you."

Mose had everything a man on the run could ask for in the back of his apartment. There were rows of wigs, beards, full face masks and half masks and a large inventory of ears, noses, and mustaches. He had male clothing in assorted styles and sizes, but Vince noticed that most of his clothes went out of style 20 years ago. In his day, Mose boasted a dazzling array of the best costumes get ups for male and females alike, but he sold most of them off a few years ago to pay off a gambling debt. 

He didn't gamble anymore. When the organization tells you to quit - you quit. He sat and watched TV most of the time now, waiting for a few loyal clients to buy or rent his wares. If they needed something he didn't have, he made arrangements to obtain the goods.

Mose lived simply. It wasn't that there were less criminals these days, but there was a lot less money to be made from them. They had other resources to keep them out of jail without the need for elaborate disguises. But he still had some in-demand products.

Most of his current clients had no need for disguises, but they often needed other things. He kept a small stock of prepaid credit cards with small amounts of money on them. These cards could be refilled by his clients for their untraceable spending habits.Refilling prepaid credit cards was much easier than other methods of money handling for people who needed to transfer untraceable cash. Business was steady but not brisk.


Birth certificates were a secret part of his trade. By obtaining records of people who died as infants, he could secure birth certificates and from them other documents such as Social Securities and passports. Who would check on the paper trail of a dead person? This business was reserved for known criminals who could not betray him without putting themselves in jeopardy. Most needed to travel in and out of the country without being recognized. These documents were profitable but he used them very judiciously.

Vince didn't ask for a passport, but Mose had in his possession a ready made package to sell to him. The passport displayed a picture of a man in the same disguise and along with it was a birth certificate, SS, and passport. The credit card had a balance of $5000. Mose didn't spend it because this was a high level crook with the right connections. But now that his client no longer needed them, he had a green light.

They were a strange pair. Vince was a straight cop for the most part, but he helped a few petty criminals here and there to get to the bigger operatives. Mose owed him for letting him out of a big mess a few years back. But now, he had called in a favor and Mose was willing to oblige without asking questions. Truth was, he didn't want to know why a retired cop needed to change his identity. If he was in trouble, Mose didn't care. He would take that small chance to pay off this debt and that would be the end of it.

The mask was a snug fit for Vince, but Mose made a couple of strategic slits and eased it forward slightly. When the wig was put on his head it balanced the mask by being slightly large. Vince looked like an old man with splotchy liver spots and a big nose. He was fitted with matching pigmented skins over his hands. A tattered coat gave him a semi-finished appearance. He couldn't find shoes that fit, so Vince wore some over sized galoshes. He could stop at a thrift store later.

"What about identification?," Vince asked.

"Too easy for you Vince," Mose answered. "A client ordered everything you have on and all the documents too, but he wasn't able to use them. A bonus for you. Say, you look just like he did in that get up, except you're a couple of inches taller. Let your pants bag a little more and stoop over more to make the illusion work."

Vince pulled his pants down a bit and affected a stooped posture and remarked in a shaky voice, "Lucky for me, and unlucky for your friend."

"Well he ain't a real friend. You know, business." Mose replied handing Vince an old cane. "He don't need them in the joint. He got grabbed before he had a chance to put them to good use. He only paid me half of what he owed."

"What's the total I owe you?" Vince asked.

Mose scratched his chin. "$5000 even.

"But you said you received payment for half of it."

"His total was $7000 and you're forgetting, there is $5000 on his identity credit card" Mose said. You're getting a birth certificate and a passport as a bonus to what you asked. You're getting a sweetheart deal."

"Yeah," Vince countered, "it is a great deal, but wasn't it his $5000 on the credit card?" His question was met with stony silence and an intense pair of brown eyes.

Vince weighed his options. He only had about $4000 in cash and he would need money to live on until he figured out who made him a target, and why. He made Mose a counter offer.

"I appreciate the deal Mose, I really do," Vince replied. "But I have very little cash on hand. I have a car that's worth about $6500 or $7500. You take the car, and I take the $5000 and  disguise and you'll still come out ahead with maybe a couple thousand. I have the title with me. You can have one of your young associates sell it on the street or even sell it to a used car dealer. It's all legit."

Mose's face turned red. He suddenly looked very agitated. He didn't like this deal, and he had the feeling that he'd been steam rolled. He didn't want the bother of having to sell a car, but he wanted to be rid of this retired cop fast. Retired or not, it wouldn't look good to his associates if they knew he had dealings with a cop. He hated what he was feeling. It was like bile rising in his throat, but he was walking a fine line with his associates in dealing with this cop, and he angrily accepted the offer on the condition Vince would never ask him for anything else, ever."

He cast a dark look as he handed the documents to Vince. "You new name is Michael Donati. You were born in Chicago on the north side. Your parents were killed when you were young and you kicked around the country.  You're in your late 70s, so memory lapses will be forgiven if you forget some details. Memorize your birth certificate and get the hell out after you sign the car title," Mose said with resentment, while pointing to the door.

After signing the car title, Vince now known as Michael, wrote Lena's name and address with instructions on how to open her garage door. If they got caught, they had the car title. If they were smart, they wouldn't get caught.

Donato took the bus back to Camden and sneaked into his home after dark. He checked his credit card to make sure all the money was there in his new identity card. He still had $4000 in cash but he was temporarily without a car.

He called Hannah, a former school friend, and asked her to make a reservation for New York as he was short of money. He said he would mail her the money later. She had been at his daughter's funeral and felt sorry for him when he turned on the sad voice. She didn't mind doing it and told him he could pick up the ticket at the counter and not to rush with paying her back the small amount for the ticket. Vince Parelli had a ticket to New York for early tomorrow morning, but Mike Donato was going to Chicago.

He couldn't take a chance of sleeping in his old bed, as much as he wanted to stay the last night in his own home. After a quick sandwich and bottle of dark beer, he packed a bag with a few changes of clothes and shaving essentials. He wrapped a gun in an overcoat to mail to Michael Donato.

It was three miles to his daughter's house, and he didn't want to walk with his bag and the package under his arm in full disguise, so he pulled his old bicycle off the garage rack and brought it into the hall where he loaded the box into the attached basket.He carried his bag and left out of the back door. He traveled well known alleys as he cycled to his daughter's house.

Letting himself in the back door, he stashed the bike in the garage and went straight to the laundry room and to the laundry detergent. After fumbling around in the half full box for a few moments, he pulled out his daughter's old cell phone. He was glad she rarely remembered to delete old messages and calls. Using a flash light he turned it on. After looking at the recent incoming and outgoing communications, he had an uneasy feeling in his gut. 

He tried to remember the name. He had seen it before a long time ago, but he couldn't come up with a face. The messages didn't make much sense, but he figured they were in some kind of code or written with specific code words. The phone was a key element and clue, but he still didn't know why.

He pulled out the sim card and tossed the phone in the garbage disposal. Then he looked for the keys to the Mustang. He found them hanging where he had left them a little more than a week ago. After checking outside to see if it was clear, he made his way down the alley and approached the Mustang from the end of the block where he left it last week.

The street was quiet and he didn't see any suspicious cars parked on the street. The phony FBI had been called off for a little while anyway. As soon as Lena was out of the hospital, they would be on his trail again. He slid behind the wheel throwing his bag and package into the back seat.

The Mustang engine roared to life. He wished it was more quiet, but the double exhaust pipes sang out as he pulled away from the curb. He hoped neighbors would think that Mitch was home on leave. His foot pressed the accelerator and he headed for the Interstate.

He mailed the package from Ohio and found a motel off the highway to wash and sleep for a few hours. He was too tired to eat.