He was amnesiac, not an idiot. If he couldn't recall his name, what were the chances his driving reactions would be anywhere near sufficient?

Not satisfactory, at any rate.

"Thanks."

There was a driver's license in the slip in the shade above the steering wheel, and the documents of the car.

There was, it turned out, also a box in the glove department which, on opening, would show three more sets of identity papers (one of them real). But that would only be known when Hartley opened it.

"Hey, look! I'm Freddie Dinardo, apparently!" Beat. "I grew my hair some since taking that pic... And shaved."

The bright reaction faded a little as he... tried to fit that in his head. It wasn't working.