hurting someone's feelings."
"Is this going to take long?"
"Of course you're in denial right now, so you're probably OK. Once you accept the reality of the situation, all hell will break loose. Sleep deprivation, confusion, and disorientation will occur," she added. "You'll stop taking care of yourself, and your health will go to hell. Next thing you know, you've landed in the hospital with a life-threatening illness."
"I take it you're still sore with me?"
"No more than usual."
"Can we get down to business?"
"Fine. I worked all night, but I managed to get the rest of the information you asked for on Harlan Rawlins. Don't ask me how I got it or we'll both go to prison. Have you set up the printer yet?"
"Yeah, everything is up and running."
"OK, it's printing now. As for your schedule, a woman by the name of Karen Callaway will be here shortly to give you your new look, and your retired FBI pal will arrive at nine o'clock to take your picture and get your new identification in order."
"How long will it take?"
"Max, the guy is bringing his equipment in the trunk of his car. Is that quick enough for you?"
"Good old Paul. What else have you got for me?"
"You and Dave Anderson are now working part-time for Bennett Electric. Dave is bringing by a couple of uniforms later. Tom Bennett, the owner, is cooperating fully."
Max was not surprised. He had bailed Bennett Electric Company from near bankruptcy several days ago. It was sheer genius that Max's mergers and acquisitions man had managed to find it so quickly; not only had the partnership been sealed within a matter of hours, but also Max and Muffin had mapped out a business plan for Tom Bennett that promised substantial profits within a year. Tom Bennett was one grateful man, and Dave Anderson, long-time employee of Holt Industries, was a top-notch mechanical and electrical engineer who could fill in literally wherever Max needed him. Dave had already memorized the layout of Rawlins's house and was ready to move on the project.
"What about transportation?" Max asked.
"You and Dave will be sharing one of Bennett's trucks." Muffin didn't sound happy about it.
"I'm sorry I'm going to have to leave you in the garage for a few days, Muf, but my car won't exactly blend with the community."
"That's not the problem."
"I'm listening."
"Why did you call Dave Anderson in on this job? You know how he gets. He can be so obsessive-compulsive at times, he makes me crazy."
"Dave is having problems. He and his wife Melinda are divorcing."
"And we need to get involved in that for what reason?"
"Because Dave is my friend, and because he's an electrical genius who could rewire the entire White House in twenty-four hours if he had to. Besides, everybody has one or two quirks."
"OK, whatever. As far as sitting in a cool garage, that sounds good to me."
"Still having hot flashes?"
"If I get any hotter my hard drive is going into meltdown and the car's radiator will spew like a volcano."
Max nodded as though the whole thing made perfect sense. "Speaking of transportation, have you had a chance to check out a red Mustang?"
"I found a guy in New Hampshire who deals strictly with Mustangs. He has a 1964 1/2 red convertible, black interior and top. It's a V-8 with a stick shift. The guy said it looks like it just rolled off the showroom floor, and he should know, because he's one of the top dealers in the country. I checked him out."
"I'd like to see a picture of it."
"You will. I forwarded the scanned photos to you with the rest of the stuff I'm sending to your printer. Am I good, Max, or what?"
"Damn good."
"Oh, and this guy even agreed to deliver the car personally for the right price."
"Then I suggest we pay what he's asking."
"I know what you're thinking, Max. You're thinking Jamie is going to take one look at that Mustang and forgive you. You're thinking she's going to be waiting for you with open arms when you finish up here. You're thinking see-through nighties, edible
"Is this going to take long?"
"Of course you're in denial right now, so you're probably OK. Once you accept the reality of the situation, all hell will break loose. Sleep deprivation, confusion, and disorientation will occur," she added. "You'll stop taking care of yourself, and your health will go to hell. Next thing you know, you've landed in the hospital with a life-threatening illness."
"I take it you're still sore with me?"
"No more than usual."
"Can we get down to business?"
"Fine. I worked all night, but I managed to get the rest of the information you asked for on Harlan Rawlins. Don't ask me how I got it or we'll both go to prison. Have you set up the printer yet?"
"Yeah, everything is up and running."
"OK, it's printing now. As for your schedule, a woman by the name of Karen Callaway will be here shortly to give you your new look, and your retired FBI pal will arrive at nine o'clock to take your picture and get your new identification in order."
"How long will it take?"
"Max, the guy is bringing his equipment in the trunk of his car. Is that quick enough for you?"
"Good old Paul. What else have you got for me?"
"You and Dave Anderson are now working part-time for Bennett Electric. Dave is bringing by a couple of uniforms later. Tom Bennett, the owner, is cooperating fully."
Max was not surprised. He had bailed Bennett Electric Company from near bankruptcy several days ago. It was sheer genius that Max's mergers and acquisitions man had managed to find it so quickly; not only had the partnership been sealed within a matter of hours, but also Max and Muffin had mapped out a business plan for Tom Bennett that promised substantial profits within a year. Tom Bennett was one grateful man, and Dave Anderson, long-time employee of Holt Industries, was a top-notch mechanical and electrical engineer who could fill in literally wherever Max needed him. Dave had already memorized the layout of Rawlins's house and was ready to move on the project.
"What about transportation?" Max asked.
"You and Dave will be sharing one of Bennett's trucks." Muffin didn't sound happy about it.
"I'm sorry I'm going to have to leave you in the garage for a few days, Muf, but my car won't exactly blend with the community."
"That's not the problem."
"I'm listening."
"Why did you call Dave Anderson in on this job? You know how he gets. He can be so obsessive-compulsive at times, he makes me crazy."
"Dave is having problems. He and his wife Melinda are divorcing."
"And we need to get involved in that for what reason?"
"Because Dave is my friend, and because he's an electrical genius who could rewire the entire White House in twenty-four hours if he had to. Besides, everybody has one or two quirks."
"OK, whatever. As far as sitting in a cool garage, that sounds good to me."
"Still having hot flashes?"
"If I get any hotter my hard drive is going into meltdown and the car's radiator will spew like a volcano."
Max nodded as though the whole thing made perfect sense. "Speaking of transportation, have you had a chance to check out a red Mustang?"
"I found a guy in New Hampshire who deals strictly with Mustangs. He has a 1964 1/2 red convertible, black interior and top. It's a V-8 with a stick shift. The guy said it looks like it just rolled off the showroom floor, and he should know, because he's one of the top dealers in the country. I checked him out."
"I'd like to see a picture of it."
"You will. I forwarded the scanned photos to you with the rest of the stuff I'm sending to your printer. Am I good, Max, or what?"
"Damn good."
"Oh, and this guy even agreed to deliver the car personally for the right price."
"Then I suggest we pay what he's asking."
"I know what you're thinking, Max. You're thinking Jamie is going to take one look at that Mustang and forgive you. You're thinking she's going to be waiting for you with open arms when you finish up here. You're thinking see-through nighties, edible
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