“I got it, Jack. I’ll be on the first plane out tomorrow. Tell Harry to sit tight, okay? Also tell him he’s not the only one this has happened to, and it might make him feel a little better. Forty million Americans get their identity stolen every year.”

“Yeah, well, that isn’t going to make Harry or me feel any better to know that, Lizzie.”

“I know. But it’s a fact that we have to recognize and deal with. Call the mountain, and I’ll call Maggie. We need to get on this ASAP. Now, relax. I’m going out to dinner with my husband. I’ll check in with you the minute I get back to D.C.”

“Gotcha. Thanks, Lizzie.”

Jack turned to Harry. “You ready for your pie now? Lizzie’s on it. She told me that forty million Americans have their identities stolen every year.”

“Yeah, I’ll take the pie and the ice cream. More tea, too. I don’t want to be the forty million and first American who has his identity stolen.”

“Look at it this way, Harry. Lizzie has that long flight back to D.C. to map out a strategy. Boy, I can almost feel sympathy for the president of that bank when he goes up against Lizzie. By the way, what’s the name of the bank?”

“East Coast Savings.”

“Shit! That’s where my accounts are,” Jack snarled. “Damn it, wouldn’t you know this would happen on a Friday, so we have to sweat the weekend? First thing Monday morning, I’m out of that bank, and my money is going into a sock under my mattress.” Jack knew he wouldn’t do anything that stupid, but he was going to do something. Getting out of the bank was the first thing he had to do. And he wouldn’t mince any words when he told them why he was moving his funds.

Harry got up and opened the refrigerator. He popped two beers and handed one to Jack. He clinked his bottle against Jack’s, and said, “Here’s to the bastard that stole my identity and his imminent death, preceded by total dismemberment and anything else the girls can come up with.”

“Now you’re clicking, Harry. I think we should just cripple him, make him pee through a straw and poop into a bag. After we break every bone in his body. We could treat ourselves to his misery and go visit him in whatever nuthouse they put him in after we’re done with him.”

Harry’s almond-shaped eyes almost widened. “You’d help me do that, Jack?”

“Hell, yes.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“You’re the best, Jack. Listen, I don’t understand any of this. Every January, I pay all my bills ahead for a full year because I don’t want to be late on a payment. I even leave a small cushion in case I make a mistake. Like an extra hundred in each account. You know how I hate getting bills. This is just the beginning of July. If I had known, had a clue, I would have done something.”