"That's three and a half hours of my life I'll never get back." Cupping his hands against the wind gusting between the tall buildings, Ash proceeded to light up a cigarette and puffed the resulting smoke into the breeze.
"Oh, Ash, I thought you'd given up…" Stacie sounded so disappointed, and the cigarette suddenly didn't satisfy him at all. He impulsively flung the thing to the ground and crushed it with the heel of his shoe. He was rewarded with a delighted smile and Stacie hooking her arm through his.
"Mickey'll be pleased," she announced.
"D'you think? Me personally, I don't see it. A time-share scam? If I did that I'd just feel like one of those layabouts that wanders up and down the seafront at Malaga, ambushing British tourists."
"No, no, the whole point is to scam the scammer," explained Stacie. "You know, payback for all those people she's conned."
"Don't say 'conned'," Ash reprimanded her. "What we do is poles apart from those shysters." His hand automatically went to his mouth and he realised with a start that he wasn't having a smoke any more.
"Of course we're different! But retired couples don't deserve to lose their life savings like that…"
"…whereas, leeches like Nugent do?" finished Ash. "I dunno, Stace. Aren't we just lowering ourselves to her level?"
"Well, that would depend on the con, wouldn't it? Why don't you wait and see what Albert and Mickey have to say, and then decide whether you want in or not?"
Ash snorted. "It's not a matter of whether I'm in or not, I'm part of the crew, and we're in it together. Like the crown jewels score."
"I think we all needed a bit of persuading on that one," Stacie agreed. "But everything worked out in the end, didn't it?"
Ash nodded, still cautious, then said, "Let's see what Mick and Albert come up with."
**********
Ash had set up the projector and screen. "Popcorn, anyone?"
"Lights, camera, action, please," replied Mickey with a smile, and Stacie got up to draw the curtains so they could see the film. She crossed the room and stood beside the screen as the image first blurred, then snapped into focus. The filming had been done from Ash's perspective, using a hidden camera in a briefcase.
"This is the St Leonards Hall at London University, where I was invited to go and hear a presentation by Apex Properties. They're a timeshare company that sells holiday apartments and villas," Stacie began. The film moved through to the hall where the meeting was taking place; dozens of people, mostly couples, milled around chatting, until a woman stepped up to a podium and spoke into the microphone, requesting that they take their seats. Stacie continued with her commentary.
"Anthea Nugent, the rep from Apex Properties. She's very convincing. If I'd even been only slightly interested in having a holiday home on the Med, her presentation could well have sucked me in."
Phrases like "win-win situation", "ideal investment opportunity", and "take charge of your life" were peppered liberally throughout Nugent's spiel. After less than ten minutes, Albert called out, "Enough already! Dear Lord, it's relentless!"
With a grin, Ash stopped the film, and Mickey opened the curtains to allow the daylight back in.
"She is a bit much, isn't she?" said Stacie with a raised eyebrow.
"And the rest!" exclaimed Mickey. "How long did she go on for?"
"Three and a half hours," answered Stacie, and was gratified at the horror and amazement on Albert and Mickey's faces.
"I lost the will to live after the first fifteen minutes," put in Ash. "Thank goodness for internet phones, I was able to get some research done while she was boring everyone to death."
"Having said that," said Stacie, "more than ten couples were ready to sign up at the end of the meeting. She's obviously very good at what she does. But," she emphasised, "in that respect, she's no different from any other timeshare sales rep. What Ash turned up…well, I'll let him explain that bit." She sat on the sofa next to Mickey and watched expectantly as Ash rose to take his turn.
He attached a 6"x4" photograph of Anthea Nugent to the board beside the projection screen. Her hair was flame red in an obviously flattering corporate shot. "Mrs. Nugent is, according to the blurb on Apex's website, one of their most senior and successful representatives. She's been with them since day one, nearly twenty years ago."
"She's wearing well," noted Albert.
Ash shrugged and pulled a face. "If you like that sort of thing," he replied. "I looked into the company reports and accounts for Apex, and it looks all above board so far. However, Mrs. Nugent is an entirely different kettle of wotsit. Before her appearance on the timeshare scene at Apex, she doesn't exist." He paused to let this information sink in.
"Witness protection?" suggested Mickey.
"That was my first instinct, too. Having drawn a blank with her marriage to Mr. Nugent, though, I decided to try some slightly more creative research."
"He got me to dip her handbag," interspersed Stacie.
"Nicely done!" Albert clapped his hands together in approval.
Ash spread several credit and debit cards on the table between them, as well as a driving licence and an electricity bill. "Spot the deliberate mistake," he challenged.
The others pored over the items. Mickey was quickest and looked up in surprise. "They're all in different names!"
Ash pointed at him. "Go to the top of the class!" he smirked.
"They're all for Anthea, but not one of them is the same as the other," added Albert, still studying the cards. He lifted them in turn and read out the surnames. "Logan…Dimitriou…Wilkins…Petersen…good grief, the woman must have the most phenomenal memory!"
"I thought perhaps a spook," proposed Ash.
Mickey's eyes had lit up. "She's a grifter," he said with total certainty.
Stacie whirled round in dismay. "She can't be!"
"That doesn't necessarily mean she can't be a mark," interjected Albert. The others looked at him. "The sweetest con of all…"
"…is to con another grifter…" mused Mickey.
"I wouldn't dignify her with the title of 'grifter'," said Ash sourly.
"There's more?" Albert enquired.
"Oh yes. The address on the electric bill is a nice terraced house in Kew - " again, Ash pinned up a photograph – "and still no evidence of any Mr., Nugent or otherwise. A friendly cat, though, and a very nice Audi." Both were included in the photo.
"Not unnecessarily ostentatious," remarked Albert.
"No," agreed Ash. "But for the next two days, she didn't go home after her presentations…at least, not to Kew." Another photo went up. Mickey whistled in admiration.
"Is that in Hollywood?" Albert adjusted his glasses and peered more closely at the picture of an ornate detached house with immaculate gardens.
"Nearly – Borehamwood," grinned Ash. "I finally picked up her trail on the third day as she left the seminar, and this is where she went. Fortunately I had some props with me, so I was able to stand in for the regular window cleaner and chat to a couple of the neighbours. With what they told me, I went back to the records and pinpointed her real identity: Ann North. She has, in fact, never married and there never has been a Mr. Nugent – that's just another in the long list of assumed names she uses."
"So why all the aliases?" wondered Stacie.
"My guess would be in order to hide from someone or something," Albert mused.
"Full marks again," said Ash. "Possibly the law, but definitely this man…" The others looked on with keen interest as he displayed his final photo, of a rather dumpy but very well-dressed man in his fifties. Ash tapped the picture with his forefinger.
"Evan Porteous, a Newcastle businessman who for some years has been trying to trace the woman who bankrupted him and nearly cost him his marriage. Piecing it all together, I think we've found her."
"Would I be right in thinking that he probably isn't the last person she took to the cleaners?" asked Albert.
"You would indeed, Albert," Ash replied. He passed round a two-page computer printout. "These are the names and last known addresses for eighteen individuals who I reckon Anthea Nugent has cleaned out over the years, in one guise or another. She doesn't seem to have targeted the usual types of mark, like bankers, CEOs, or heiresses – she tends to aim lower, and when she does, she often takes out people who have worked their way up from pretty deprived circumstances."
"People who might never manage to rebuild their lives," stated Albert.
"So you're saying that she picks on people with enough money to keep her ticking over, but not enough that they can afford to be fleeced?" Stacie asked.
"Certainly looks that way. I'm still waiting for a couple of documents to come back to confirm all of these as her victims, but even if it's only half the people on this list, she's had an impact on the lives of quite a few folk. She's listed as the director of over a dozen companies who have since gone to the wall."
"A vulture," declared Albert, obviously disgusted.
"To put it mildly," agreed Ash. He looked across at Mickey, who was sitting back and listening to the discussion. "Well? What d'you think, Mick?"
There was a short pause, then Mickey answered, "I think you should run this one, Ash. You and Stacie have done all the leg work, without letting the mark get close enough to identify you. Stacie, you know what you want to do, don't you?" Stacie nodded affirmatively. "Then you and Ash get together and go over it, bring us the finished product, and Albert and I will fit in wherever you want us to."
Ash was speechless, Stacie no less so.
"For goodness' sake, say something, one of you!" exclaimed Albert, amused. When no-one did, he went on, "Ash, with your grifting experience and your gift for improvisation you could do this with one hand tied behind your back. And Stacie, my dear, this is exactly the type of con at which you excel. You are able to bring the mark into your confidence, especially when it's a woman, to identify with you, and then when she least expects it, wham! you hit her where it hurts most. It's perfect for both of you."
Stacie gave a lopsided smile. "I think we'll manage just fine, don't you, Ash?" Turning to the eldest member of the crew, she said, "Albie, you're on first."
***********
"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Wotherspoon, it's been a pleasure to meet you and help you fulfil your dreams." Anthea Nugent shook hands with a frail-looking couple who tottered off as Albert approached the front of the lecture hall. He extended a hand in greeting.
"William Groves, Mrs. Nugent. I must say I'm heartily impressed with your ideas, and would like some more information before I make a decision."
"Mr. Groves, I'm so glad you enjoyed the presentation, and of course I can tell you anything you'd like to know. Won't you take a seat?" She indicated a chair, and sat down to continue the conversation. "Now, what was it you wanted to ask about? Do you have our brochure?"
"Yes, I have that, thank you. I was just wondering how much this…" here Albert turned to a page in the brochure – "…home would cost."
"Our Algarve Deluxe! Well, let me do some sums for you, Mr. Groves, and see what I can come up with…" The saleswoman tapped out her calculations and beamed widely at Albert. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at how easily you can afford it with our special payment plan."
**********
"So how much did she try and sting you for, Albert?"
"Ooh, she was good - £750,000 in four 'easy' payments."
Ash whistled and Mickey mouthed a flabbergasted "Wow".
Stacie looked quietly smug as she produced a file and handed it to Mickey. "You have a job interview at Apex Properties."
His eyebrows raised, Mickey leafed through the paperwork.
"As what?" he asked.
"Sales rep. All you need to know is in there, including your back story."
"Oh, apparently I'm Scott Deakin, highly-experienced foreign property agent," he remarked as he read the CV.
"That's right, and in approximately two hours you're due at Apex's offices in the City to see if they'll take you on for a day's work trial – all the advantages of being on the inside, with none of the actual pay, unfortunately."
"I'm sure I'll survive." Mickey gave a broad smirk.
"Meanwhile, Ash and I are about to move in around the corner from Mrs. Nugent…" Stacie looked conspiratorially at Ash, who smiled and said, "Borehamwood, here we come!"