Chapter 12
Rosalind relaxed into the seat besides Albert and leant her arms on the table, resting her chin on her wrists. From her position, she could see everyone clearly. Her dad and Uncle Mikey were on her right, and Sean and Emma had approached the bar to order drinks.
"You know Sean and Emma are working out really well…" Albert started.
Mickey glanced towards the siblings briefly. "Yes they are."
"I think they're a real asset to the team, don't you?" the older American continued, raising an eyebrow that pretty much said 'you know what I want to hear'. Rosalind grinned in amusement.
He glanced towards Ash. "He's going to make me say it?"
Albert coughed. "Hmm, yes I am."
"Of course he is," She interjected.
Mickey sighed overdramatically. "Albert…you were right."
"That's very kind of you to say," he smiled smugly causing Rosalind to giggle.
"And so unexpected," Ash commented.
Sean and Emma made their way over from the bar, Sean stating that Eddie would bring the drinks over, and took the free seats on the end of the table. Rosalind straightened up with a small hum as her back clicked, and glanced at each member of the gang individually.
"So, what's next?"
"Albert's be working on a mark," Mickey started.
"Anyone we know?" Emma asked.
"Sir Edmund Richardson," Albert stated with a roll of his 'r'.
Ash laughed. "What, Piggy Richardson?"
He bowed his head. "The very same, yes."
"Whose he when he's at home?" Sean wondered.
"He was the head of one of those banks that nearly when under last year," Mickey supplied helpfully, "The government had to bail them out."
"We bailed them out you mean," Ash corrected his friend.
"We?"
"Well, the tax payer."
Sean looked confused. "Do we pay tax?"
"No, no, but it's the principal."
"My dad, pupil announcement for the common man," Rosalind teased, releasing a laugh at the look he sent her.
"So what you're saying is if we paid tax, which we don't, then we bailed them out, which we didn't," Sean summarized.
Ash clicked his fingers and pointed at him. "That's right."
Sean seemed to think about this for a moment before nodding in acceptance and relaxing back against his seat. Rosalind hid a small smile. It wasn't often that she met someone who could follow her father's strange line of thought.
"He's the one who took the bank to the verge of collapse, and then got out with a pension of half a million pounds a year, right?" Rosalind said thoughtfully, thinking back to an article she had remembered reading last year.
"Correct my dear," Albert nodded, "and half the people who worked for him lost their jobs."
The conversation paused as Eddie carefully made his way over to their booth, balancing a round, black tray of drinks which he set down carefully on the end of the table. Sean handed out the drinks, each conveying thanks by a mumble of the words or a nod of their head. Rosalind and Emma offered him a smile. Eddie leant against the wall beside them patiently, a knowing smirk on his face.
"Hey, there was a bird in here looking for you Mick," Eddie started.
"A bird?" Emma blinked, "What, like a parrot?"
Rosalind quickly took a sip of her drink to cover her amused smile. Automatically, she could see Emma's claws come out at the mention of another woman looking for Mikey. From what the woman had told her, nothing was going on between Emma and her Uncle – "It's strictly professional," she assured – but it was clear, to Rosalind at least, that the two cared for each other on much more than a professional level. If only they weren't so stubborn, she mused.
Eddie looked at her, a little confused. "No, a bird bird."
"Oh, a bird bird," she mocked.
Mickey smiled in amusement at Emma before turning his attention back to Eddie. "Did she say what she wanted?"
It was obvious that Eddie was trying to keep his laughter at by, the smile stretched across his face. "Well, um, it was something about you and her having, uh, mutual interests…"
"What'd she look like?" Ash questioned.
The bar owner looked thoughtfully. "Fit."
"Fit?"
"What, posh fit or mucky fit?" her dad continued.
"I'm sorry, is this a new language I've never heard of?" Emma interjected, looking between the men.
"Don't worry Em, you'll get used to it," Rosalind offered.
"She was like posh fit, with just a hint of mucky," Eddie summarized, as if the two girls hadn't said anything. Rosalind rolled her eyes. Seriously, sometimes never changed with these men, not matter how much older they got.
"Awh, my favourite," Ash grinned. Rosalind wrinkled her nose in disgust.
"It's mine as well," Eddie chuckled.
"Ah, nah, I just like mucky fit," Sean disagreed.
Unable to control the urge, his found himself glancing over the table at Rosalind. The woman seemed to notice his gaze and arched an evenly shaped eyebrow in his direction questioningly. He found himself smirking challengingly. She smiled and shook her head, turning her head to watch the conversation. He felt a slight tapping on the toes of his shoes. He was sure it was Rosie, almost certain it was in fact, but she didn't even glance his way. He shifted his foot slightly, brushing the bared skin and felt a surge of amused triumph when her cheeks went pink. It was ever so slightly, he doubted it would be noticeable to anyone else, but he had spent a worryingly great amount of time memorising her pale flesh that he guessed he could notice any little difference that occurred. The nervousness and maybe a little fear that accompanied that thought forced him to look away.
"Anyhow, she said she'd be in touch," Eddie finished relaying the message, grabbing the now empty tray off the table and retreating behind the bar.
"Ah-hah, a secret admirer perhaps," Albert arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah, you're not up to something on the sly are you?" Ash teased.
"No, I am not."
"Can we get back to the topic at hand please?" Emma suggested loudly.
"You are aren't you?" Ash pressed. Emma voiced her objection and Mickey stumbled over his words momentarily before releasing a sigh and falling silent.
"Piggy Richardson…" Emma urged after a moment of silence.
Albert went on to explain his interactions with Sir Edmund Richardson. Apparently, they had met at a Gentleman's club and had a few drinks. He wished to supplement his pension by working as an investment banker overseas.
"And he thinks I'm a head hunter for the Western Bank of California," He finished.
"So how do we get to him?" Emma implored.
"Well, I told him I thought it was a same that his own country didn't appreciate his entrepreneurial skills. After all, it was only working class people who lost their jobs." Albert elaborated. He clasped his hands and shrugged his shoulders, "After that it was, as they say in America, shooting fish in a barrel."
"Nice bloke," Sean commented dryly.
"I painted a picture of how his life would be at the Western Bank of California," he continued smirking.
"Lots of money, beautiful woman, fast cars, champagne every night," Rosalind listed with a fake wistfulness.
"…It's fair to say he was taken with the idea."
"So how do we start?" Mickey asked. Everyone turned to Albert expectantly. In situations like this, he always had the con planned out long before anyone else even found out the mark. It was something that Albert had gotten into the habit of doing in his long history of the long con.
"Well, I offered to introduce him to our currency specialist," he began to instruct, pointing to Mickey, "to help him make the transfer of his assets to the States. You're Tom Bernstein got a BA from the University of Michigan and a PHD in economics from the Massachusetts Institution of Technology, and you've got an English wife," he nodded towards Emma, "whose currently in the UK visiting her parents."
Mickey looked thoughtful, standing up and began a small pace. He turned towards them. "Ash, better make sure the background holds up." He turned to Albert, "Does the Western Bank of California have offices in London?" he continued at the man's statement of address, "We'll do the bank on the fly first and then bounce him onto a hotel."
"I'll check out the bank." Rosalind offered, deciding to take a load off her father and give her something to do.
"Sean, hotel and working capital," Mickey instructed. The young man nodded in acceptance.
"What about me?" Emma questioned.
"Well, if you're going to be the wife of a high flying Californian banker, you better go shopping," Mickey grinned.
"Ah, it's tough, but somebody has to do it," Ash teased.
"At least I'm not going this time," Rosalind rolled her eyes.
"I'll do my best, for the team," Emma mocked with a small smile.
"We'll rendezvous at six."
It's fancy; I'll give them that much, Rosalind thought as she walked into the extravagant lobby of the Western Bank of California. In fact, she'd been in five star hotels that were not as expensively presented. She peered around as if considering, and approached a miniaturised model of the actual building. It was pretty impressive.
She grabbed one of the bank's flyers from on top of the glass case and acted as if she was examining it. Her eyes were focused on the area above the paper across from her and she smiled knowingly. Pocketing the information for later reference if needed, she turned to leave and repeated the information over and over again in her head in a tried attempt to remember.
Mr. H. Holmes – Investment Banker.
