Maggie pulls up in a street of large, grey-stone Edwardian houses. Number 20 is two houses away on the opposite side of the road and flat 6 is probably on the first floor. She isn’t in the least bit surprised when nobody answers the doorbell. She gets back into the car.
Step three: change your job, if you can. This is particularly important for people working in the professions, which nearly all maintain registers of those entitled to practise. A professional body will allow for a change of name, but will keep records of that name change. Anyone staying in the same profession will be traceable through their professional body, even if they choose to work overseas.
Starting the engine again, Maggie drives around the corner and parks near to a row of shops. McDonald’s always has free Wi-Fi.
Step four: change your appearance. It’s a small world, wherever in it you choose to move. Changing your hairstyle and colour, swapping spectacles for contact lenses, dressing differently, can all reduce the chances of an unexpected recognition.
On her second cup of McDonald’s coffee, Maggie has finally finished her search. She checks the car can be left in its current parking spot and sets off walking.
The first place she stops at is a dead end. So is the second, and the third. The fourth is bigger, smarter, decorated in retro-Regency style with elaborate, white-painted wooden furniture and pink tasselled lampshades. The reception desk has a stencilled portrait of Audrey Hepburn, her cigarette holder held gingerly between highly manicured nails. Each nail is a different colour and pattern. This salon offers very sophisticated manicures.
Step five: keep a low profile. Especially avoid activity that will attract the attention of the media. Staying away from social media is probably a good idea too. Remember, it’s a small world.
‘Good afternoon, that is great hair.’ The woman behind the counter is young with polished red lips and shiny black hair cut short. The very sharpness of her is at odds with the soft, feminine lines of the rest of the salon. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I’d like to book an appointment for next Saturday.’
The woman opens up a screen on her desktop computer and Maggie edges around the desk so that she can see the names that appear. Becca, Sophie, Rikki, Ashlyn. Others too. The salon employs a lot of people. All women. She sees the name she is looking for. Finally.
‘Eleven fifteen OK?’
‘That would be fine. Can I have a card in case I need to change anything?’
Step six: you have an Achilles’ heel and you mustn’t forget it. Your National Insurance number. Consisting of two prefix letters, six digits and one suffix letter, a National Insurance number is allocated at birth to every UK citizen and mailed to them shortly before their sixteenth birthday.
NI numbers are changed in only the most exceptional circumstances, which means your old name and your new will always be linked by your NI number.
Take heart, though. The existence of the link is one thing, being able to access it quite another. No ordinary citizen has the right to request the NI number of another. If you’re hiding from an abusive husband, for example, he cannot request that HM Revenue and Customs reveal your new identity. The police might have more success, but only in exceptional circumstances after gaining a court order. So, unless you’re wanted in connection with a serious criminal offence, it is highly unlikely that a court order would be given.
The bottom line is, if you work legally, in the UK, you can always be traced, but not easily, and not without good reason.
So, that’s how you disappear. Finding the disappeared? Well, that follows on naturally.
Back in the car, now parked outside the salon, Maggie waits. Using her phone, and claiming a forgotten meeting, she cancels all four manicure appointments that she has just made.
Finding the disappeared depends upon how successfully they’ve adhered to the six-step plan. Where do most of them fall? At the first hurdle, of course. Finding the disappeared depends upon their failure to adhere to step one.