Jumper. Steven Gould

it makes me a little nervous to carry cash in this neighborhood.”

      “Ah. I can understand that,” I said. The back of my head twinged. “I don’t want to make a big issue of this, but I’m going to be traveling a great deal. I’d like to make all my arrangements in one place.” I paused. “But I don’t want these waiting-for-the-check-to-clear hassles.”

      She frowned. “You could establish credit with us and we could open an account, billing you at the end of each month.”

      “How would that work?”

      “You’d fill out a credit application and we’d have our credit agency check you out.”

      Oh, great. That’s all I need, inquiries into my past.

      “How about this instead,” I said. “I’ll write you a check for ten thousand dollars. When I’ve used up that, you tell me and I’ll write another check. And,” I added, “I’ll wait until the check clears to pick up my ticket to Oklahoma City.”

      She blinked and inhaled sharply. “That would be acceptable.”

      I scribbled out the check, trying to make the signature look casual as well as resemble the one on my driver’s license. She picked it up and looked at it. “Oh. We bank at Liberty. I’ll take this over at lunch. Can we call you this afternoon?”

      I shook my head. “My next stop is the phone company. I don’t have a phone right now. How about I drop back by around three.”

      “Very good, Mr. Reece.”

      Millie met me at the gate with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. I felt something shrink inside.