"Ash! Ash!" The fixer was vaguely aware of Sean urgently shaking him awake.
"Wha..? Whassamatter?" Ash roused himself and looked at his watch. "Blimey, how long were you gone?" He saw the bag of junk food that Sean had bought and grabbed a can of Red Bull to try and wake himself up.
"I was only gone twenty minutes or so, you doughball. By the time I got back here you were spark out, so I just left you. They rocked up a few moments ago." He pointed outside, and Ash became aware of shouting and laughing going on down in the street. He looked out and saw a group of noisy students playing cricket under the street lights, with a traffic cone for stumps and what looked suspiciously like a car number plate for a bat. Keenly scoping out each player, Ash soon homed in on their mark.
"That's him," he said softly but with certainty, pointing out the pony-tailed lad in the long black leather coat who was now bowling a grapefruit.
**********
"Ems, I need you to do something."
"Sure, Ash, how can I help?"
"I need you to go down to the student housing office and find out what you can about the flat that lout Lewis Fisher rents. At least, I'm assuming he rents it as it's near the university, but I suppose he might have a rich relative who's bought it for him."
"Okaayyy…" Emma was hesitant, still not sure she approved of the plan to wreak revenge on the unsuspecting ringleader of the vandals. "So, details of the landlord, rent payments, tenancy agreements, stuff like that." She hurriedly made a list in her notebook.
"Yep, exactly. Oh, and who actually owns the property, too," added Ash, as Emma headed for the door.
Mickey emerged from his room and surveyed the lounge area. "Much better," he declared.
The suite was now looking as it had before the surprise visit, although with some different artwork and decorative objects to replace those that had been beyond repair. The manager had sneaked an insurance claim in under the radar, and nobody had been out of pocket. The most severe and lasting damage had been done to the grifters' pride, although Emma suspected it was more of a male territory issue than anything else. Still, she was always willing to give Ash a hand where she could; she saw how he had taken Sean under his wing, passed on his grifting skills and wisdom, and generally been like the father Sean couldn't remember ever having. It gave her peace of mind to know her brother had a male role model who, while not exactly what any parents would have chosen for their only son, was at least imbuing him with some street smarts and common sense.
Emma was mulling over all this as she reached her destination. Consulting the map Ash had printed out for her from the uni website, she pinpointed the housing office and took the lift to the fourth floor of the main admin block. The woman who stepped out looked rather different from the one who had got in at ground level. Brunette rather than blonde, now wearing a smart black jacket over her white blouse, topped off with a scholarly-looking pair of spectacles, she walked confidently into the room marked "Student Accommodation Services".
"Can I help you?" asked a girl who was obviously a student herself.
"I do hope so. I'm Ingrid Kemp, from Westminster Council. This address, Flat 5, 20 Asquith Street: I need to know who the owner is."
"I'm afraid I'm not able to give out that kind of confidential information," the girl replied in a condescending tone.
Emma regarded her over the top of her glasses. "Perhaps I haven't made myself clear. A number of complaints have been received about the tenant of this flat. I have been asked to look into the matter and render a decision at the earliest possible date. I cannot do that unless I know to whom to direct my enquiries."
"Well, I can pass on your request for information to the property's owner, if that would be of any help," offered the assistant.
"I'm not sure that it would. As I explained to you, this is a rather urgent case; the tenancy may be terminated unless I can provide evidence to support the tenant's case."
"Ahhh…I see…" Now that Emma appeared to be working in favour of a student, the atmosphere thawed noticeably. "Let me just get that record up…would you like me to print it out for you?"
"That would be tremendously helpful, thank you so much," effused Emma. She took the papers, scanned through them, and saw that everything Ash had asked her to find was contained in these documents. Turning to leave, she said, "I really appreciate your assistance, I'll be certain to mention it to Mr. Collins." She was rewarded with a beaming smile, and felt relieved that she had taken a minute to read the names on the organisational chart displayed outside the office.
**********
"It's as you suspected, Ash, the owner of the flat is a Mr. Benjamin Thornley-Fisher, of Holland Park, W11."
"Daddy!" growled Ash gleefully. "And he's obviously not short of a bob or two with that postcode. Good. Now we can get cracking." He rubbed his hands in anticipation.
"Ash…I'm still not really comfortable with this. Their prank wasn't directed personally at any of us, and we didn't lose out on anything because of it."
With a scornful snort, Ash interrupted, "I take issue with the word 'prank' – did you see anybody laughing when we got back last night?"
"No, granted it was a bit of a shock to come home and find that kind of chaos, but once we found out the reason behind it…"
"Doesn't matter. Bottom line is, you don't do home invasions unless you're going to leave the place as you find it, and you definitely don't just toss a place for the sake of it. Those morons weren't even looking for anything. And what if someone with a weak heart had been staying here? That could have finished them off, coming back here and finding that mess."
Emma gave in with a sigh. "All right, what's next?"
"You need do nothing," declared Ash magnanimously. "All that will be required are these" – he wiggled his fingers in an exaggerated typing fashion – "and an internet connection." He lifted his mobile from the table and dialled. "Sean? Anything new to report? OK…good. Well, Emma's found out that Lewis's pop bought him the flat…" Something else seemed to strike Ash at that moment and he said, "Call me if our man shows up. Thanks."
He hung up and turned to Emma. "Did you manage to get hold of the tenancy agreement?"
"Yep, here it is." The pair sat down at the dining table and spread out the papers.
Ash leafed through them. "Right…I see Daddy Fisher actually has a rental contract with little Lewis and therefore has an income from the property. However…looking at this list of payments, it would seem that while the rent is being transferred to the landlord's account, an identical amount is also being paid by the housing benefits office in respect of the same flat…"
Emma caught on. "…meaning that Mr. Holland Park is not only receiving rent, but getting paid by the government too? That's outrageous!" She sat back, disgusted.
"And illegal, by the sound of it," added Mickey, who had been listening from the sofa.
"Actually, no," replied Ash. "It's a fairly common scam in the private rental sector: a well-off landlord buys a property, lets it to his son or daughter who supposedly pays him rent and who in turn claims housing benefit. However, the tenant – in our case, Lewis Fisher – has no real need to leave the parental home, never pays a bean in rent, and the taxpayer ends up funding the rich parent's purchase of the property. The benefits agency has no idea that landlord and tenant are related. Dear old dad could afford to hand his son the keys to the place outright, but why bother when you can work the system and get the state to pay the mortgage instead? While it may be immoral, it's not technically against the law."
"That might explain why Lewis has dropped the 'Thornley' bit of his surname," suggested Emma.
Ash nodded. "Could be. Whichever way you slice it, Thornley-Fisher makes a tidy profit, and Junior gets a nice pad in town, courtesy of the welfare state. And believe me, I've seen the place, it's not exactly your typical student dive."
"And it's worth half a mil," Emma added, brandishing the valuation Ash had downloaded from an online property database.
"Perhaps there's more to this con than we originally thought," mused Mickey. He wandered out onto the balcony.
"Having second thoughts?" Ash asked as he joined in gazing at the London skyline.
"Not about doing the con, just in the way we go about it, and who the marks are," Mickey replied.
"'Marks'?" queried Ash. "You're thinking about taking on the old man as well?" He fell silent, but his face betrayed his doubts and concerns.
"You think it might be biting off more than we can chew?"
"Not necessarily, Mick, but I'm never happy about changing horses mid-stream. It just means there's more could go wrong. Why not leave Thornley-Fisher Senior for another time? We don't have to take them both at once."
"Yes, but think how satisfying it would be, not to mention cost-effective!" Mickey was really warming to the idea now.
"What, two for the price of one? This isn't Sainsbury's, it's a con."
Smiling, Mickey answered, "I know, Ash. I'm not saying it's definite, just mulling over the possibility. Give me a few hours and I'll have a better idea of how it might work."
**********
"Sean, I've got another job for you. Get yourself back here."
"Does it involve twelve hours' kip? Cos if not, I may just stay here and crash."
"Very funny. We're all working flat out at the moment, y'know, you're not the only one losing their beauty sleep. See you shortly."
Upon his return to the hotel, Sean was relieved to see that there were no piles of paperwork or electrical gadgets to tackle. He was, however, instructed to "freshen up" and then get together with Ash, which he duly did, feeling slightly more awake.
"Right, what we're after is a bogus social networking page for Master Fisher," explained Ash, as they sat down together at the table.
"OK." Sean's fingers flew over the keyboard and he quickly set up a Facebook account in the name of Lewis Fisher. He listed his interests, which he had observed included Guitar Hero, proper cricket and not just the street furniture variety, clubbing and very little in the way of study. Any books or other traditional student accessories were not much in evidence in the flat. A photograph Sean had taken of their mark completed the page.
Ash grinned his approval. "Brilliant! Now, post an open invite to a party this coming Friday night at his place. Everybody welcome, bring all your mates, as much booze as you can drink, that sort of thing."
Sean was beginning to understand. "Right, no problem…" – he typed in the date, venue, and a few tempting details – "…there we are. You know, Ash, if I could hack into his real Facebook account, I'd be able to make sure all his friends knew, too…"
"Go on, then." Secretly, Ash didn't believe that the lad would actually be able to gain access to the real Fisher's page, but he sat back and observed as Sean tried one password after the other. It took a few minutes, but he did it.
Ash sat forward, incredulous. "You got in! What was the password?"
" 'Thornley,'" smirked Sean, and received a hearty smack on the back for his trouble.
"Well done, mate." Over his shoulder, Ash called, "Mick! We're on!"