A/N: I've messed around with the timeline a little, but essentially, it's set when they're in their mid-forties, and Adrienne died earlier. Although the storyline is borrowed from Hustle, I've tried to ensure you don't need to have watched it to understand what's going on. All of the characters will be from Holby, it's just the general premise and cons I've used from Hustle. Hope you all enjoy!
Serena leant against the railings of the balcony, observing the city below her and absorbing the atmosphere. The rush of cars and people were a contrast to the river rolling towards the sea. It was quiet from where she was, a penthouse apartment she had borrowed from an oil exec she had met the previous night. He was currently travelling to Saudi Arabia on a fruitless search for his next fortune.
She smirked, it would be a few weeks before he was back and find this place exactly as he'd left it. Well, minus the rather nice bottle of Shiraz she'd found in the wine rack. She took a deep breath in, considering her immediate future. It had been almost a year since she'd been in London and she wasn't sure where any of her old team were. Except Arthur, of course. The last place she'd been before she'd left for America was his grave.
Her young protégé, a natural grifter because no one thought to look twice at him. He had an honest face and a quick mind. His death had been a blow to Serena; she'd had a few lucky escapes in her time, it came with the lifestyle, but for him to die so young from a disease that couldn't be controlled had left her wondering whether it was all worth it.
She'd started grifting because the world wasn't fair. It had taken her mother too early, despite Adrienne never setting a foot wrong (at least not in the law's eyes), working hard to contribute to society and the Alzheimer's had stripped everything away, in her late sixties. She was juggling a young child, an ill mother and a high-flying job as a business analyst, and Edward had topped it all off with an unimaginative affair with his secretary, then the childminder. Those were just the ones she knew about. Serena had been angry at a world where honest people were treated cruelly, be it by fate, the government, whoever, and yet greed and immorality seemed to reap rewards.
So, determined to get revenge on Edward, who only cared about money, she conned him. It cost her a chance of a close relationship with her daughter, but what had begun as a grudge turned into a thrill. The planning, the control and the chase made her feel alive and she excelled at it. She decided to start a new life, building a reputation. and restore balance by finding crooks and stinging them.
When Arthur had died, she found herself losing the taste for it. He had been too young and watching the effect it had on Morven was hard to watch. She lost faith in herself, her sense of morals shifted as she considered whether anyone was actually in control of their own destiny. She had been getting cocky, wanting to pull off bigger cons and putting herself and the team in too much danger.
After the funeral, Morven told her she would be leaving. Not only the team, but the UK altogether. She couldn't do it without Arthur, so left for the Caribbean. Serena had decided it was time to take a step back, to reassess what she wanted in life. She wasn't getting any younger after all. So, a year ago she had packed her bags and gone over to America to meet a few old contacts from her Harvard days.
Now, she was back. Refreshed, renewed and ready to start again. The time away had been good, but she had missed the old days, her mind constantly whirring without a plan to pull off. She inhaled deeply, felt at home, back in the bustle of London with the familiar city skyline standing tall and welcoming her like an old friend. There were only a few things missing. She checked her watch and smiled. Time for a stroll, she decided.
The place she wanted was a short walk from the apartment, a deserted street with a plain façade. Unassuming but it stood out to her. The sign above the door was barely noticeable, especially in the dim evening light, and the flaking paint of the door greeted her. Sacha's bar, her second home in London, was the best place to start her search for old contacts.
She descended the stairs and frowned; it was loud, with chatter and music surrounding her. She didn't know what she had expected, it had been a year after all, but she felt a slight disappointment when she saw a group of businessmen sat in their booth. The booth that had hosted so many conversations, plans, celebrations.
She vaguely registered a few wolf whistles as she walked past and smiled to herself. Still got it. She leant on the bar and cleared her throat, at least one thing hadn't changed: Sacha with his flowery shirts and warm smile, hair a little longer than when she last saw him.
"What can I get for – no!" The routine greeting was cut short as he broke into a huge grin. "Serena! What are you doing here?"
"Looking for a bit of peace and quiet, but I've obviously come to the wrong place," she raised an eyebrow and looked around the bar.
"Well, I had to find some way to turn a profit after my best customers disappeared. Not that you paid for your drinks that often," he added with a chuckle. "The credit crunch hit, bankers have been more stressed and word of mouth got round that this place existed, underground and out of sight. Perfect for a few afternoon drinks."
Serena pushed a note over the bar with a nod.
"The usual please, and do you mind if I stay here until you close up?"
He filled a large glass with Shiraz and nodded in understanding before turning to the next customer.
Two hours later the bar had emptied, as had a second glass in Serena's hand. She had waved off the offers from men to buy her another. Sacha locked the door and gestured for her to sit in the booth.
"What's brought you back to London?"
"I was getting restless. I missed it too much, once a grifter always a grifter I guess. I want to get the team back together. With a couple of additions maybe."
"Is Morven coming back?"
She shook her head.
"I don't blame her, she needs the fresh start. Sacha, have you seen the other two?"
"Not since the funeral. I've heard a few murmurs of Fletch among the guys that come here, but nothing about Henrik."
"Thanks, I'll ask around." She stretched, the jet lag catching up with her. Her search could continue in the morning.
She entered the boxing gym and wrinkled her nose as the smell of sweat and cloying deodorant hit her. Shouts of personal trainers cut over the loud music, the sort that you felt rather than listened to. She felt out of place but didn't let it show, striding to the desk purposefully. The receptionist looked up from his phone with a bored expression.
"I'd like to speak to Ric Griffin, please," she smiled politely, but his expression didn't change. He sighed and picked up the desk phone.
"Who shall I say is asking?"
"An old friend."
She didn't want to give her identity away, although the lad looked like he couldn't care less. She assumed Ric probably had a few mystery visitors and his staff knew to keep their mouths shut.
"Ric, some woman in a suit wants to see you. Says she's an old friend."
A slight pause ensued, during which he looked Serena up and down.
"Brown hair, I dunno about the same height as you, in heels... No, not French, kind of posh… Hmm no a bit older than that."
Serena raised her eyebrow but he merely placed the receiver down and pushed back from the desk.
"Follow me."
He left her outside an office, she knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.
"Well, well, Rocky Griffin. Finally making an honest living I see."
If he was surprised by the bold interruption he didn't show it.
"Now, there's a sight for sore eyes. Serena, I thought it might be you," he grinned and got up to hug her.
"After you'd ruled out your latest girlfriend, no doubt. French?"
He laughed. "I wouldn't say girlfriend. We're keeping it casual until she's divorced her husband. I don't want to get on the wrong side of him, he's a bit of a thug and has a lot of contacts."
She shook her head despairingly.
"I'm assuming this isn't a social call," he prompted, clearly wanting to change topic.
"I'm looking for Fletch."
"I've not seen him in months. Heard he'd retired, well, from grifting anyway."
She frowned, if Fletch wasn't willing to join her again she wasn't sure what she would do. She trusted him implicitly and she doubted she would find another fixer as good as him.
"And Henrik?"
"Ah, I might be able to help with that one," he twisted a pen between his fingers. "Her Majesty offered him a guest room, in Wandsworth."
"The prison?" A nod confirmed it and she sighed. She didn't know how Henrik had ended up there, but he was her only hope of finding Fletch, and new members of the team.
"Serena, are you getting back into cons?"
"I need to, Ric. I've been away a long time, but it was my life. I don't know what else to do," she paused, regarding Ric with a hopefully smile. "I don't suppose…"
"No, no. I'm done with all that."
"It was worth a try," she patted his hand and winked. "Good luck with the new girlfriend."
She stood to leave but Ric stopped her.
"Before you go I think you should know. I've heard a few rumours that in the time you've been gone there's some new blood out there, filling the gap as it were. I don't know details but there's one name that keeps getting mentioned. The Major."
Serena quirked an eyebrow, she hadn't heard the name before, and she had a lot of international contacts. "Sounds intriguing, army?"
Ric shrugged. "Just watch out okay?"
The Major. She'd have to make enquiries, although if he turned out to be some hierarchical old boys club army type she didn't want to be associating with him.
The prison guard received the full force of the Serena Campbell stare when he was slightly firmer than necessary during his search. She straightened her jacket and smoothed her hair as she followed him through to the visiting area. Henrik nodded slowly at her as she regarded him. He looked well, clean shaven in a crisp suit and waistcoat, impeccable as always.
"Do I want to know?" She questioned, knowing he wasn't one for superfluous greetings. He twitched the corner of his mouth into a smile.
"I may have had a slight disagreement with the surveillance officers about what counts as cheating in a casino."
She raised an eyebrow in amusement. She suspected he had an ulterior motive for being in prison, considering how many times he'd manage to elude capture, but she trusted that he would tell her if necessary.
"How are you, Serena?"
"Good, I'm glad to be back, and itching to get started again. Although I'm rather on my own at the moment. But how about you? Prison seems to be treating you well."
As if on cue, a prison guard approached, a cup and saucer in hand, and placed it on the table. Henrik's skills of bringing people round and charming were clearly universal, working just as well in this world as it did on the rich city big wigs.
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I've been keeping up with everything in the outside world as well. I've got something that might interest you, if you're up for it."
"A mark?"
"Yes, and an address, for a certain Cockney fixer."
His lips twitched again as he saw her shift forwards in her seat, eager for the information.
Henrik indicated for the guard to come over and he returned with an envelope. On it, in his elegant cursive script, was a company name.
"He's usually there about lunchtime, fleecing the city boys. I'm sure he can be persuaded to rejoin the long con game."
She hoped so. She flicked open the envelope to find several photographs, obviously taken in some sort of surveillance operation. She didn't want to know how Henrik had managed to get these from inside.
"This is Emily Lewis, she makes money out of other people's misery. Tendered for rebuilding programmes in China after the earthquake, maximised profits by bribing officials and avoiding building regulations. She's been in Eastern Europe recently, buying land and sending in thugs if they don't want to leave. I believe she's looking to enter the money markets now the recession has hit."
Serena nodded and studied the photos. She was a similar age to Serena, with glossy blonde hair, sharp and severely cut just above her shoulders. A slight downturn of her lips gave her a serious, determined expression. She was dressed to impress in a trouser suit, most likely designer, slim fitting. The photo finished before her legs did but Serena could tell they went on for days. She could see how this woman had managed to convince so many to part with their money, the confidence and charm was oozing from the paper. Serena pursed her lips, it was a shame she was about to sting her for a lot of money.
Henrik was watching her with an amused expression. She purposefully ignored it, placing the envelope into her jacket pocket.
"I've got a front for you already. You will be Harriet Sharpe, a maverick trader who hates the system, so is always looking for ways to cheat it and only deals in cash."
"And how do we reel her in?"
"Mr Fletcher will help with that. She thinks all men in the City are rude misogynists."
"She's not wrong there," Serena huffed, earning a chuckle from Hanssen.
"Indeed, so give her what she expects. An obnoxious investor, cheating on his wife with someone much younger, you know the sort."
She nodded and smiled. She knew all too well, she'd been married to one for long enough.
"You seem to have put a lot of thought into this, Henrik," Serena observed and he pulled his lips into a thin line, not giving anything away.
"I've had time on my hands."
She stood slowly then stopped, regarding him carefully.
"One more thing, Henrik. I spoke to Ric and he warned me about another grifter. The Major. Do you know anything about him?"
She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him look so smug.
"I couldn't possibly say. I'm sure you'll meet soon enough. It's a small world out there."
Serena was used to his infuriating riddles by now, so didn't push any further. She had a plan to put together, and some shopping to do.
A/N: Random fact for you: one of the actors in Hustle (who plays the equivalent of Bernie in the actual show) was also in Holby City - she played Mickie Hendrie the nurse who had a relationship with Donna Jackson.