Aiding and Abetting

Alex Watters pulled up to the house as Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” announced an incoming call. “Yeah?” he answered. He listened to the voice on the other end for less than a minute, then the unmistakable buzz of dial tone. Before getting out of his car, he looked at the house. The sides, painted white, were faded and peeling with what looked to be permanent mascara runs on them. The front porch seemed like it was barely standing; the half-dozen wooden stairs and hand rail that led to the porch leaned to the left and if you weren’t careful, you were likely to come away with more than a few splinters in your hand. It was all by design though, and it was exactly how Alex wanted the exterior appearance to be.

The decrepit looking exterior provided an advantage; it let him hide in plain sight. It also helped to keep away neighbors who were too nosy, and too inquisitive. Alex was not a social person, never was and never would be. The trials and tribulations of his neighbors held no interest to him at all. He also knew they might think they wanted to know his business, nosey neighbors that they are. However, he knew that they really should not know his business. His business was his business and anyone trying to pry into it just might not live to see dawn the next morning.

Often though, looks can be deceiving and in this case, they certainly were. The large Cape Cod style home had everything on the first floor, kitchen, living room, bathroom, master bedroom plus a spare bedroom for guests, or children. The idea of entertaining either guests or children was abhorrent to him. How people could stomach the little bastards, watching them grow then tossing them out into the crazy world was beyond him. He saw children as a waste of time, money and energy. He didn’t mind sex; he just didn’t want a prize nine months later. Still, they did bring him a nice profit.

The attic was accessed via a hidden folding ladder. You had to know not only where the ladder was hidden, but also how to trigger it to extend the rungs to allow access. The attic was his office. The tools of the trade for a master forger like himself were there. It was filled with computers, printers, scanners, paper, inks, as well as every type of blank identification material one could think of. Some of the material he sourced himself through his own contacts while the more difficult material was procured from his childhood friend, Gino “Numbers” Salvatore. His lifelong friendship with Gino also gave him a steady supply of clients.

When the house was built, someone had the foresight to include a basement, which he had sectioned off into different rooms. There was another bathroom, a bedroom that was also used as a recovery room, a fully sanitized operating room, smelling of antiseptic, and a few small utility rooms that he always kept locked. The operating room took up half of the basement space itself. Sometimes, clients paid for more than just new identity paperwork. Some wanted a few physical changes as well. 

Alex relished his reputation as the eccentric one on the block. Every area had one; the guy who gave out pennies at Halloween, the one who parents warned their children to stay away from because they feared he would kidnap their children, the guy who everyone thought wasn’t playing with a full deck. And yet, it was all nothing more than an elaborate act; one that he performed very well.

Walking into the kitchen, he flipped a light switch, grabbed a Coke from the fridge and headed to the attic. Turning on one of his computers, he began searching the dark web for the latest hacks to stay a few steps ahead of law enforcement. Never had any of his forged identity papers been challenged. He wasn’t about to have a first time either. Research, preparation, and staying in front of current technology were all things in which he took pride. It was also why he charged the prices he did.

An hour later, Alex’s other cell phone rang, this time, Van Halen’s “Dreams” rang out. “Speak” he said.

“I understand that you are the best individual from which to procure a particular set of services. I need only your paper service. Expedited. Whatever the additional cost is, it is not a problem” a voice said. “And I need it in three hours.”

“You understand correctly. How many sets?” Alex asked.

“Two. One male, one female” was the reply.

“Age, height, weight, eye and hair colors and nationalities that you want” he asked matter-of-factly.

After receiving answers to his questions, Alex gave the caller a list of instructions that included the time and price. Payment was to be made before the process was finished and was required to be made in a combination of twenty- and fifty-dollar bills. He imagined the smell and feel of fresh money; a sizeable payday was in his near future.

He always provided strict instructions to ensure that clients took the proper precautions when coming to see him. Never come directly to this house and never, never come during daylight. There were more than a few politicians, as well as their mistresses, that appreciated his cautious nature. Alex had a network of associates that, when notified, followed the client so that a professional eye could determine if they were being followed or not.

“I said I need it within three hours” the voice said.

“I heard you, but you don’t run the show, do you? You called me. Those are my terms. If you don’t like them, feel free to take your business elsewhere.” Though he would hate to lose the easy money, if word got out that he had compromised his process because someone whined, the hit to his reputation would be worse. Plus, he knew that in order to get the same level of quality and assurance he provided, there was nowhere else that they could go.

Hours later, long after the sun had set and the stars lit the night sky, the doorbell rang. Still in the attic, Alex had seen the pair approach on his security cameras, one holding a briefcase, the other had a duffel bag in one hand and pulling a suitcase with the other. While they nervously looked around, Alex made his way down to the front door.

When he opened the front door, he recognized both faces but kept his face a stoic mask. Moving aside to allow entrance, he quickly shut and bolted the door after they were inside.

“Have a seat” he said.

Obligingly, the pair sat down on the couch. “How long will this take?” the man asked.

“You’ll be gone by midnight, as long as you have the money” he responded.

Nodding to his companion he said “give him the money.”

“But he hasn’t…….”

“I said give him the money!”

Recoiling as though she had been slapped, she lowered her head and passed the briefcase to Alex.

“Sorry about that. We’re in a bit of a hurry. The last few days have put us on edge” he explained.

“Don’t mention it” Alex said in a calm voice, “most of my clients are always in a hurry. Now, I’ll go run this through my money counters. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“It’s all there” he protested.

“Do you always trust everyone you talk to? Everyone you do business with?” The look on the man’s face was answer enough. “I didn’t think so” he felt compelled to say.

Ten minutes later, Alex was back in the living room. “Now, let me help you leave your old lives behind. Follow me” he instructed.

He led them to the attic where his various computers sat waiting for instructions. Her paperwork was much easier. The Italian government did not make changes to their Visas and passports very often. With her complexion, dark hair, and toned physique, immigration officials wouldn’t even look twice at her paperwork.

His paperwork was a bit trickier. The damn Brits got too much helpful information from the American Passport Agency. Still, Alex had done enough British passports that it was more annoying than difficult.

“Alright” he said, “down in the basement is where the photos are taken. The camera is wired directly into the system. There is a satellite computer down there so you will be able to view and approve your pictures first. Once that is done, both of you can relax in the bedroom while I come back up here to print out your documents. Any questions?”

“No” they both responded.

Alex led them back down the ladder, through the first floor and down into the basement. Opening one of the doors, he turned on the lights and indicated for one of them to sit down. Taking both pictures, he made a few adjustments, removing glare from foreheads and eyes.

“There” he pronounced, “satisfied?”

“That’s the best photo I’ve ever had for a passport” she gushed.

“It should be for the amount of money I paid” her companion said.

“Alright. Give me about an hour to get all of your documents printed, then you’ll be able to leave to wherever you’re going. And no, I don’t want to know about it, where it is or why you needed my services in the first place. It’s not my business and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Thank you” he said.

“Yes, thank you so much” she added.

Alex shut down his computer, stood, walked over and before opening the door, looked over his shoulder and said “I’m happy to help you leave your old lives behind.” Opening the door, he saw Gino and a few of his trusted associates with him. “He’s all yours Gino.”

“Thanks pal. Payment is where it always is.”

“Much obliged. I’ll be in the attic if you need me.”

“Yeah.” Turning, Gino filled the doorway and said “Good evening Councilman Jones. It looks as though you and your slut were about to leave without saying good bye, or without paying me what you owe me.”

The blood drained from Councilman Jones’ face as his mistress opened her mouth to scream. A hand clasped over her mouth before she could finish inhaling a deep breath to exhale a scream for her life.

“Did you know that my childhood friend, Alex has an operating room down here? No? Let me show you” he said as his thick, muscular arms grabbed him.

From his office in the attic, Alex called a few clients to let them know their order was ready. He was oblivious to the screams of pain and torture that resounded throughout the basement. Business is business he thought, as he resumed his search of the dark web.