Merker invited her into her own kitchen to sit down and listen to what he needed her to do. First, Annette shoved a Finding Nemo tape into an old VCR, then joined the two of us at the table. Merker had the ID and the key out on the table for demonstration purposes.

“I need you to go into a safety-deposit box,” Merker said.

“Huh?” Annette said.

“You wear the wig, you use this ID, you sign this name, and you’re in. You take everything out of the box, put it in the bag, and you come back out. Simple as that.”

Annette looked at him openmouthed. “Huh?” she said again.

I was starting to have doubts about whether Annette was the best candidate for this operation.

“Listen,” she said, “I’d like to help, but I got no one to watch the kid.”

“Fuck, Annette, I’m going to give you a grand. Hire a fucking babysitter.”

“Who’m I gonna find in the middle of the day? You ever try to find a babysitter like that?” She snapped her fingers. “It’s not easy.”

Merker was thinking. “We could drop the baby off,” he said, and looked at me. “We could leave the baby at your place, with Leo and the fat Yugoslavian chick and the kid. They’re already looking after one kid, they could handle another one.”

“I don’t think she’s Yugoslavian,” I said. I suddenly felt very tired.

“But we could do that. So getting a sitter is no big deal, Ann—”

“Jesus!” she said. “Are you still doing that?” She pointed at Merker, who had slipped his index finger into his nose. “That is the most disgusting habit! You were doing that in Canborough. You haven’t fucking cleared things out in there yet?”

Merker’s nose-picking hand dropped to his side. “Leave me alone,” he said, suddenly an eight-year-old. “So, you’ve got a sitter. You’ll do this thing?”

“Is it illegal?” she asked.

Merker, who had not been one to share his feelings with me up to now, gave me a look, as if to say, You see what I have to deal with?

“What do you think, Annette? You’re going into a fucking bank, pretending to be someone else, and walking out with a bag full of cash, you want to know whether it’s illegal?”

“I was just asking is all. How much cash?”

“Enough. Anyway, it’s sort of partly legal, because the person who has the box says it’s okay for us to do it. She’s given us permission.”

“Written permission?”

“Fuck no, Annette, I don’t have written permission. You think this is the sort of thing people put in writing?”

“Well, why can’t she just do it herself? Why does she need someone else? Did she break a leg or something?”

“Because she can’t, okay?”

Annette shrugged.

“When did you have a baby anyway?” Merker asked.