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nly skipped a beat。 Seated in a booth across the room were Charles and his wife。 They had not yet seen her。 Tracy's first impulse was to get up and leave。 She was not ready to face Charles； not until she had a chance to put her plan into action。
〃Would you like to order now？〃 the captain was asking。
〃I'll… I'll wait； thank you。〃 She had to decide whether she was going to stay。
She looked over at Charles again； and an astonishing phenomenon occurred： It was as though she were looking at a stranger。 She was seeing a sallow； drawn…looking； middle…aged； balding man； with stooped shoulders and an air of ineffable boredom on his face。 It was impossible to believe that she had once thought she loved this man； that she had slept with him； planned to spend the rest of her life with him。 Tracy glanced at his wife。 She wore the same bored expression as Charles。 They gave the impression of two people trapped together for eternity； frozen in time。 They simply sat there； speaking not one word to each other。 Tracy could visualize the endless； tedious years ahead of the two of them。 No love。 No joy。 That is Charles's punishment； Tracy thought； and she felt a sudden surge of release； a freedom from the deep； dark； emotional chains that had bound her。
Tracy signaled to the captain and said； 〃I'm ready to order now。〃
It was over。 The past was finally buried。
It was not until Tracy returned to her hotel room that evening that she remembered she was owed money from the bank's employees' fund。 She sat down and calculated the amount。 It came to 1；375。65。
She posed a letter to Clarence Desmond； and two days later she received a reply from Mae。
Dear Miss Whitney：
In response to your request； Mr。 Desmond has asked me to inform you that because of the morals policy in the employees' financial plan； your share has reverted to the general fund。 He wants to assure you that he bears no personal ill will toward you。
Sincerely；
Mae Trenton
Secretary to the Senior Vice…president
Tracy could not believe it。 They were stealing her money； and doing it under the pretext of protecting the morals of the bank！ She was outraged。 I'm not going to let them cheat me； she vowed。 No one is ever going to cheat me again。
**********
Tracy stood outside the familiar entrance to the Philadelphia Trust and Fidelity Bank。 She wore a long black wig and heavy； dark makeup； with a raw red scar on her chin。 If anything went wrong； it would be the scar they remembered。 Despite her disguise； Tracy felt naked； for she had worked in this bank for five years； and it was staffed with people who knew her well： She would have to be very careful not to give herself away。
She removed a bottle cap from her purse； placed it in her shoe； and limped into the bank。 The bank was crowded with customers； for Tracy had carefully chosen a time when the bank would be doing peak business。 She limped over to one of the customer…service desks； and the man seated behind it finished a phone call and said； 〃Yes？〃
It was Jon Creighton； the bank bigot。 He hated Jews； blacks； and Puerto Ricans； but not necessarily in that order。 He had been an irritant to Tracy during the years she had worked there。 Now there was no sign of recognition on his face。
〃Buenos días； se？or。 I would like to open a checking account； ahora；〃 Tracy said。 Her accent was Mexican； the accent she had heard for all those months from her cell mate Paulita。
There was a look of disdain on Creighton's face。 〃Name？〃
〃Rita Gonzales。〃
〃And how much would you like to put in your account？〃
〃Ten dollars。〃
His voice was a sneer。 〃Will that be by check or cash？〃
〃Cash； I theenk。〃
She carefully took a crumpled； half…torn ten…dollar bill from her purse and handed it to him。 He shoved a white form toward her。
〃Fill this out…〃
Tracy had no intention of putting anything in her handwriting。 She frowned。 〃I'm sorry； senor。 I hurt mi mano… my hand… in an accident。 Would you min' writin' it for me； si se puede？〃
Creighton snorted。 These illiterate wetbacks！ 〃Rita Gonzales； you said？〃
〃Si。〃
〃Your address？〃
She gave him the address and telephone number of her hotel。
〃Your mother's maiden name？〃
〃Gonzales。 My mother； she married her uncle。〃
〃And your date of birth？〃
〃December twentieth； 1958。〃
〃Place of birth？〃
〃Ciudad de Mexico。〃
〃Mexico City。 Sign here。〃
〃I weel have to use my left hand；〃 Tracy said。 She picked up a pen and clumsily scrawled out an illegible signature。 Jon Creighton wrote out a deposit slip。
〃I'll give you a temporary checkbook。 Your printed checks will be mailed to you in three or four weeks。〃
〃Bueno。 Muchas gracias； se？or。〃
〃Yeah。〃
He watched her walk out of the bank。 Fuckin' spic。
**********
There are numerous illegal ways to gain entry to a puter； and Tracy was an expert。 She had helped set up the security system at the Philadelphia Trust and Fidelity Bank； and now she was about to circumvent it。
Her first step was to find a puter store； where she could use a terminal to tap into the bank's puter。 The store； several blocks from the bank； was almost empty。
An eager salesman approached Tracy。 〃May I help you； miss？〃
〃Eso sí que no； se？or。 I am just looking。〃
His eye was caught by a teen…ager playing a puter game。 〃Excuse me。〃 He hurried away。
Tracy turned to the desk…model puter in front of her； which was connected to a telephone。 Getting into the system would be easy； but without the proper access code； she was stymied； and the access code was changed daily。 Tracy had been at the meeting when the original authorization code had been decided on。
〃We must keep changing it；〃 Clarence Desmond had said； 〃so no one can break in； yet we want to keep it simple enough for people who are authorized to use it。〃
The code they had finally settled on used the four seasons of the year and the current day's date。
Tracy turned on the terminal and tapped out the code for the Philadelphia Trust and Fidelity Bank。 She heard a high…pitched whine and placed the telephone receiver into the terminal modem。 A sign flashed on the small screen： YOUR AUTHORIZATION CODE； PLEASE？
Today was the tenth。
FALL 10； Tracy tapped out。
THAT IS AN IMPROPER AUTHORIZATION CODE。 The puter screen went blank。
Had they changed the code？ Out of the corner of her eye； Tracy saw the salesman ing toward her again。 She moved over to another puter； gave it a casual glance； and ambled slang the aisle。 The salesman checked his stride。 A looker； he decided。 He hurried forward to greet a prosperous…looking couple ing in the door。 Tracy returned to the desk…model puter。
She tried to put herself into Clarence Desmond's mind。 He was a creature of habit； and Tracy was sure he would not have varied the code too much。 He had probably kept the original concept of the seasons and the numbers； but how had he changed them？ It would have been too plicated to reverse all the numbers； so he had probably shifted the seasons around。