Chapter 23

Chapter 23—Meeting two

4:18 p.m., Tuesday, December 20

Even though she did not use it very much, Bernadette did own a car. She kept it at a parking garage within walking distance of her apartment. That car was another monument to Allison’s thoroughness. When she set about establishing the new persona, she knew she wanted Bernadette to have the ability to own and drive her own car. The challenge was getting the appropriate license and registration set up.
For that she took a few trips back to her “beloved” New Orleans. Actually, Allison loathed almost everything about Louisiana. She had a dim view of most of the residents of the state, and she was not particularly fond of her memories as its First Lady.
But there was one thing she really liked about this southern state. She had a lot of connections there, many of whom were viewed as shady. But to her, shady meant useful.
On one of her early trips to Louisiana after leaving the White House, she contacted a man who was able to create virtually authentic identities. He had worked closely with her and Bob (mostly for Bob) on many occasions, creating people out of thin air, secret bank accounts, both in the US and abroad, and false identities for foreign nationals involved in various types of smuggling. Allison knew this man to be the best at what he did, and to be able to keep secrets. Had he not been able to perform the latter with ultimate determination, he would not still be breathing sweet Louisiana air. She knew she could trust him.
He was happy to help her, and he was equally happy to keep the secret from her husband. He had a great working relationship with the former president. But as far as he was concerned, Bob was just another client—no more or no less important to him than a member of organized crime.
For obvious reasons, Allison had no idea what his real name was, only that he could be contacted via a post office box in New Orleans. That anonymity was fine with her, and obviously fine with his other clients. He had no interest setting up an email account. “Keep it simple,” was his motto.
So, with the help of her “PO Box Buddy,” she set up the Bernadette identity and procured a social security number, even paying a small amount of federal and state taxes. For an acceptable (to her) retainer, this PO Box Buddy handled all the filings. The one thing she needed most of all, was the driver’s license. That he was also able to obtain for her, through the Louisiana Office of Motor Vehicles.
Initially she inquired about a passport under Bernadette, but he quickly talked her out of that.
So, on Tuesday afternoon, as Allison/Bernadette made her way to the parking garage, she could not wipe the smile off her face.
The drive to Jerry’s cottage could take two hours—perhaps a little more, depending on traffic. She knew it would have been impossible to make any sort of time on a Friday afternoon, as half the city would be trying to make it up to their cottages for the weekend. Tuesday, she thought, would be ideal.
By the time the attendant handed the keys to her, it was about two-thirty p.m. She handed him her customary twenty dollar tip, and they both smiled. Of course, as was her practice, Bernadette did not utter a word.
The drive was uneventful. Even though traffic was extraordinary for a Tuesday afternoon, she still was able to arrive in the vicinity before five p.m. With about a half an hour to kill, she considered paying a visit to a nearby bar, one she and Bob had frequently stopped at when they went up to Jerry’s cottage.
She did, however, quickly change her mind about that. “These folks are so nosy, they’re going to be asking me questions I do not want to respond to,” she thought.
So, instead she just drove through a fast food restaurant and bought a burger and a soda. She received the white bag of food, and pulled into a parking place at the restaurant to eat. This, she thought, was an experience very alien to her, but one she totally enjoyed. She glanced at her watch several times, trying to gauge her completing the meal with the time she needed to leave for the cottage. She did not want to arrive too early, and she knew she could not be late.
When finished, she opened the car door, got out, and tossed the remains in the trashcan. Once back in the driver’s seat, she glanced in her rearview mirror, backed up, and was on her way.
She realized that same smile consumed her face—the one she wore as she initially picked up the car earlier that day. “I really like being able to do this,” she said aloud. And with that, she belched.  The sound of her own voice, and that of her extraordinarily loud belch, brought more than a smile to her face. Now she found herself loudly chuckling at what she had just done.
“God, do I love this!”