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. Stapled to the indenture was a very sincere birth
certificate showing that Bill was a foundling, abandoned in Metairie Parish,
with an assigned date of birth three days earlier than the date he was found.
"Much of that is true," Dr. Schultz told me. "I was able to wheedle some
old records out of the master computer."
"Does it matter whether or not it's true?"
"Not really. As long as it is sincere enough to get Bill out of here."
Gwen had followed me in. She took the papers from me, read them. "I'm
convinced. Father Schultz, you're an artist."
"A lady of my acquaintance is an artist. I will convey your compliment.
Friends, now the bad news. Tetsu, will you show
them?"
Mr. Kondo moved back in the kitchen; Mama-San (Mrs. Kondo, I mean) stepped
aside. Mr. Kondo switched on a terminal. He punched up the Herald, cycled it for
something- spot news I assume. I found myself staring at myself.
With me, in split screen, was Gwen-a poor likeness of her. I would not have
recognized her but for the sound repeating:
"-Ames. Mistress Gwendolyn Novak. The female is a notorious confidence
woman who has fleeced many victims, mostly male, around the bars and restaurants
of Petticoat Lane. The self-styled 'Doctor' Richard Ames, no visible means of
support, has disappeared from his address at ring sixty-five, radius fifteen, at
point four gee
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