Playing with Bad Boys

"Did you get everything?" she asked anxiously, and when he nodded, she said, "Shouldn't we get out of here?"

"Nah," he said dismissively, "we're clear."

"How can you be so sure?" she asked.

"Simple," he said. "Stores aren't looking for a man to shoplift women's clothing. Somebody might have watched you browsing, but they usually don't pay any attention to a male wandering through the Women's department."

"Then why did I have to buy these expensive shoes?" she asked, still uneasy.

"Three reasons," he said. "First, the sales people in footwear keep a close eye on their merchandise, so shoes are hard to swipe. Second, footwear that expensive usually have ID chips that have to be disabled before they leave the store. And finally, if anybody was suspicious of you, they'd forget about you the minute you made a purchase. A shoplifter would never actually buy anything, especially an item that expensive."

Despite his reassurances, Shannon was relieved when they finally got back to their motel.

Darren turned on the Weather Channel and watched for a few minutes. Finally he turned the set off. "Looks like tomorrow's going to be a good day for hunting pigeons," he said. "Here's what we're going to do."

Shannon was not happy about becoming a part of Darren's con game. In her mind it was one thing to go along for the ride with him; it was quite another to become an active participant. Yet she saw no way to avoid it, so at noon the next day she made her way nervously down Delaware Avenue toward Dupont Park. She was wearing the clothes Darren had shoplifted the previous day, and she hoped she looked like the secretary she was supposed to be.

She'd already noted Darren on the opposite side of the street and half a block ahead of her. As she got to the small park, he made an unobtrusive gesture with his hand and she looked to her right to see a man seated on a bench near the fountain. She glanced back at Darren to be sure she had the right one, and when she saw him nod she walked up behind the stranger.

He appeared to be in his late sixties with gray, thinning hair. He wore a suit and tie, and as she drew closer it was clear that the suit was an older style, a fact verified by the wear she saw at the cuffs and collar.

She took a deep breath --it was show time.

"Sir! Excuse me, sir. I think you dropped this," she said, holding up an oversized, unmarked business envelope.

The man turned to look at her and Shannon noticed that, even as he looked at the envelope she was holding, he took the opportunity to give her a second look before responding. "Darren knew what he was doing when he had me dress this way," she thought approvingly.

"No, I'm sorry, young lady, that doesn't belong to me," the old man said with a smile.

"Are you sure?" Shannon asked. "I spotted it under the bench right where you're sitting."

Again he shook his head. "No, it's not mine, but thank you for asking."

Shannon plopped herself on the bench beside him and watched his eyes go to the slit in her skirt. "What should we do about this envelope" she asked. "It feels heavy."

She passed it to him, and he weighed it in his hands. Then he gave it back to her.

"Maybe there's an address or something inside that will tell us who this belongs to," she said, being careful to look the older man in the eye.

"That's a good idea," he said, obviously enjoying the opportunity to spend time with a pretty young female.

When she unclasped the envelope and reached inside, she gave a sharp gasp. "Ohmigosh, it's filled with money!" She thrust the envelope back into his hands and saw his eyes widen as he found what she had seen.

"How much is in there?" she asked excitedly, and he pulled the stacks of bills into his lap. Now it was his turn to gasp. "These are packets of $100 bills," he said in a hushed voice. He quickly began to count them, and when he had finished, he turned to her and said, "There are 20 packets, and each one has 25 bills. That means there's $50,000 in here!"

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Can we keep it? I mean, there's no name on the envelope and nothing inside to indicate who owns it. That would be $25,000 for each of us!"

She saw the desire in his eye, but he still wasn't completely hooked. "I think we have to report this to the authorities, in case someone lost it," he said, but when she looked disheartened he quickly added, "But maybe if no one claims it then we can keep it."

Shannon cocked her head as though an idea had just struck her. "My boss is an attorney; in fact, he works in that building right across the street. Let me call him -- he'll know what to do."

Before her companion could respond, she pulled out her cellphone and made a show of calling her "boss." After a minute's conversation, she hung up and turned back to the man. "He said he was on his way to a meeting, but he's going to stop on the way to see us. Oh, look, there he comes now."

She pointed to the figure of Darren, who was appropriately dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt and striped tie, and carrying a heavy legal briefcase. After the introductions, Shannon explained the situation to him. Darren took the envelope and checked inside briefly. Looking down at Shannon and the older man, Darren nodded sagely. "I know exactly what this is," he said. "I've seen it before. This is drug money. Somebody was going to make a pay-off and something went wrong."

"So what do we do now?" Shannon asked.

"We'll have to notify the police, of course. But I'm happy to inform you that, once a few formalities have been completed, the money belongs to the finders!"

Shannon squealed and turned to hug her co-finder in delight. He returned her embrace heartily.

"Before you get too excited," Darren broke in, "there's one small complication." The two people seated on the bench looked at each other in alarm, then back at the "attorney."

"The problem," he continued, "is that an unmarked envelope is one ploy drug dealers use to launder money. They claim to have found it; then, when it goes unclaimed and they take possession, they have 'clean' money."

"But we're not drug dealers," the older man protested.

"I know that," Darren responded, "but you need to convince the police, not me." He paused for just long enough for disillusionment to set in, then spoke up again.

"I think I know a way. If each of you were to put some of your own money in, that would demonstrate your good faith to the police. Besides, no drug dealer would ever put up his own cash like that."

Shannon could see the doubt in the older man's face, so she quickly spoke up, "That makes sense to me. How much would we have to put up to show good faith?"

"What would be perfect would be if each of you could put up half of the total money. That would clearly show the police that you're honest and not trying to pull some kind of money-laundering scheme."

Again, Shannon spoke up quickly. "I have a little over $25,000 in my savings account at the bank across the street. If it means a chance to double that, I'd be willing to get it, especially since we're going to give that to the police." She turned to her companion. "What about you -- can you do the same thing?" When he hesitated, she hurried on, "My husband and I could really use $25,000. I bet that much money would come in pretty handy for you too."

"Yes it would," the older man agreed, and then he seemed to make a decision. "My bank is just down the street. I could pull $25,000 out of my retirement account."

"Perfect," Darren quickly spoke up. "Now here's what you need to do: each of you needs to go withdraw the money while I contact the police. Be sure to have your bank put the money in an envelope along with the withdrawal receipt and seal it. That way there can be no question where the money came from. Then get back here as quickly as you can."

Shannon grabbed her new friend's hand and tugged him off the bench with excitement. "Come on," she said gaily, "let's go!" He gladly held her hand as they walked out of the park. After they had crossed the street, he somewhat reluctantly released her to heads to his bank.

Shannon was already waiting with her envelope when the gray-haired man returned, puffing from his haste. Darren took the big envelope they'd found and opened it so both could see the $50,000 inside. Then he dumped in the envelopes from Shannon and the old man, closed the flap, licked it and sealed it. "There," he said triumphantly, "that way the police will know it hasn't been tampered with."

Then he made a show of checking his watch. "Where are those detectives, anyway?" He pulled out his cellphone, turned away, made a call and began to speak. Even hearing only one side of the conversation, it was obvious to Shannon and her new friend that something was amiss. Darren turned back to the two of them, holding his finger over the speaker. "There's been an accident and they've been delayed," he informed the pair. "It's going to be about fifteen minutes before they can get here." He looked around and then back at the two of them. "Listen, I don't feel comfortable holding this much money out in the open like this. We need to put it in a safer place." He turned to the older man. "Is your car parked nearby?"

Gray hair nodded quickly. "Yes, I'm parked on the first level of the parking garage right over there," he said.

"Good," Darren said approvingly, "we'll go over there and lock the envelope in the trunk of your car. I'll let the police know where to look for you." With that he turned back around, spoke a few more sentences and hung up.

The three of them then proceeded to walk across the street and into the garage, with the older man in the lead. "There's my car over there," he told them, pointing to a Chevrolet in the middle of one row.

As the three of them neared the car, there was a clatter of metal on concrete, and Shannon gave a little squeal, "Oh, I dropped my phone!" She carefully bent over at the waist, and made a show of fumbling on the ground before grasping it. When she stood up, she saw that the older man had been staring at her. She held the phone out to him. "Do you think it will be OK?" He took it from her to examine it, and Shannon watched over his shoulder as Darren completed switching the envelope with the money for an identical one that he had pulled out of his briefcase.

As Shannon and her friend turned back towards Darren, he held the envelope up and asked the old man to pop his trunk. When he did so, Darren ostentatiously placed the envelope inside and loudly slammed the lid closed, asking the man to relock the car. "Now I feel better," he said reassuringly.

Then he checked his watch again. "I'm sorry, but if I don't hurry I'll be late for my meeting. The police should be here any minute, so you two just wait for them here by the car." Before they could say anything else, he hurried away.

The old man looked around uneasily, and Shannon quickly gripped her arm. "So tell me," she asked with an encouraging expression, "what are you going to do with all that money?" Soon the man was talking about European vacations and other dreams, with Shannon nodding and smiling in agreement.

When he paused for a breath, a look of discomfort crossed Shannon's face. "Darn it, I really need to go to the bathroom. I'm going to run use the ladies' room in the bank and then I'll be right back." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Don't go away, now," she said with a smile, and then hurried toward the door to the lobby.

Instead of stopping, she hurried straight through the lobby. When she exited the building, she turned west and walked down the street till she came to an alley. Darren was parked there with the motor idling. When he pulled away she was almost shaking from the adrenaline rush. "How'd I do?" she asked in her excitement. "Like a pro, baby, like a pro," Darren responded. "Now that's how you do the pigeon drop!" Then he began to chuckle. "I wish you could have seen it. When you bent over to pick up your cellphone, that old geezer's eyes almost popped out of his head staring at your ass!"

"I wonder how long it will take before he opens the trunk and finds that envelope stuffed with newspaper?" she asked.

"Long after we're out of here," Darren said.

She laughed giddily and settled back in her seat as they drove to the motel.

When Darren pulled up at the motel, he turned to look at Shannon. "You go on inside and wait for me. I've got to make a quick trip to the bank."

"What bank?" she asked in confusion.

"The Bank of Moscow," he said calmly.

"The Bank of Moscow?" she asked in surprise. "I've never heard of it. Why do you have to go there?"

"It's better that you don't know," he replied curtly. When he saw her clouding up, he hurried on. "When I get back, we'll go out and party."

As she waited for Darren, Shannon began to think about what they'd just done. Now that the euphoria of a successful con game had worn off, she couldn't help thinking about the old man they'd just robbed. A sense of guilt welled up in her as she remembered his well-worn clothes, but she pushed it from her thoughts angrily. "He's probably got tons of money stashed in the bank," she told herself. "He won't miss it."

Nevertheless, she began to feel a little depressed. She'd wanted the excitement of living with a bad boy, but she'd never thought that she might have to become part of his activities. "My daddy would just die if he knew," she thought, "and so would Robert." The thought made her angry at herself. "Why should I even care what they think?" she asked herself in disgust.

To get herself out of her mood, she fished a joint out of Darren's bag and lit up. By the time Darren returned, she was high, giggly and hungry. Darren was amused. "Come on, baby," he told her, "let's go get something to eat and then we'll have a little playtime."

A week later, Darren informed Shannon that it was time for them to move on. "We're leaving as soon as I get back," he told her. When she asked him where he was going, he would only tell her that it was a business meeting. After Darren returned, the two of them quickly loaded their bags into their nondescript car. Darren drove around to the motel office, settled their bill and then got behind the wheel and headed north on I95.

"Are we going back to Philadelphia?" Shannon asked.

"No," he replied curtly, "Newark."

"Why Newark?" Shannon asked curiously.

"Because we've got a big business opportunity there," Darren replied.

"What opportunity?" Shannon pressed, and Darren gave an audible sigh.

"Alright," he said, "we've got some time ahead of us, so I guess now is as good a time as any to talk about it. You remember the con I pulled in Philly with the school board?" he asked, glancing over at Shannon.

"Of course," she replied.

"Well, there's a similar situation in Newark, only a lot bigger. If we play our cards right, we might just be able to make a really big score, one that would put us on easy street for a long time."

"Why can't we do it in Wilmington," Shannon asked in puzzlement. "What's so special about Newark?"

Darren rolled his eyes and began to lecture her like a child. "Newark runs the biggest education system in New Jersey, but it has one of the worst graduation rates in the state. The school system got so bad that the state government actually took it over way back in 1995 and has been running it ever since. The system also has a history of being underfunded and rife with corruption."

"That doesn't sound very promising to me," Shannon said.

"You'd think so, but there's another side to the coin. The problems are so well known that the system has gotten a lot of money from bleeding-heart do-gooders trying to help. That guy who started Facebook donated $100 million, and other rich people have chipped in as well. Everybody's looking for ways to jumpstart the system. And that's where we come in."

The confusion on Shannon's face made it clear that she still wasn't following what Darren was saying.

"The latest quick fix they want to try is to give computers to the students to help them with their schoolwork," Darren went on.

Shannon burst into laughter. "Right, like that'll help! They'll just spend all their time on Facebook or playing games."

"Maybe so," Darren responded, "but who cares? The point is that it's a big opportunity for us. We come in and offer to sell them a whole shipping container full of IPads at cut-rate prices and they'll jump at the offer."

"Where are we going to find a container full of IPads?" Shannon asked incredulously.

"Our friends at the Bank of Moscow already have one," Darren replied.

"Okay, now you've got to tell me," Shannon demanded. "Who the hell is the Bank of Moscow?"

"It's not really a bank," Darren said. "That's just what I call it because they're willing to fund scams and underwrite other kinds of crime. The truth is they're part of the Russian mafia."

"Why would the Russian mafia want to fund other people's deals? Why not just pull the jobs themselves?"

"Simple," Darren said, "they can make a lot of money without taking any risk."

"What happens if the con goes sour or their borrowers get arrested? It sounds to me like that would be a big risk."

"They're not like a regular bank," Darren explained. "If you borrow money from them, you pay it back plus interest, no matter what. If you wind up in jail, then your family has to pay. There's no getting out of a loan from these guys."

Shannon wasn't convinced. "But what if the family can't pay or won't pay?"

Darren actually shuddered. "Trust me: you don't want to know what happens then. Let's just say that the Bank of Moscow doesn't have a 'bad debt' problem. They always collect."

"So where did these Russian guys get a shipping container of IPads?" Shannon wanted to know.

Darren rolled his eyes at her like she was a simpleton. "They hijacked it, of course," he told her.

"And they're just going to give it to us?" she asked, still not understanding.

"No," Darren said slowly as if he were speaking to a child, "they're not going to give it to us. They're going to lend it to us, along with the cash we'll need as seed money. In return, they get half the proceeds of our little con game."

"Half!" Shannon exploded. "We take all the risk and they get half?"

"It sounds like a lot, I know, but think about it: where else have we got a chance to score $2 million in one deal?"

"$2 million? You're kidding, right?"

"Do the math," Darren said. "There are 10,000 IPads in that shipping container and they're the fancy thin ones with 128 gigs of memory. Those babies retail for $800 a pop. We sell them to the school system at half price, which makes them look like fucking heroes and gets us $4 million. We split that with the Bank of Russia and walk away with a cool 2 rocks. With that kind of money, we can go anywhere, do anything!"

He glanced away from the road to see how she was taking all this and saw she still had a skeptical look on her face. "Do you really think you can con the school board or whoever into buying stolen merchandise?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "Our new partners tell me that the guy we have to deal with is Gordon Sesterman, the head of the Newark's Future Today Foundation. This guy is bent two ways: he's politically ambitious and he's not too picky about where possible campaign funds come from. So they think he's touchable. But in any case, I'm not going to con this guy."

"I don't understand," she asked querulously, "how are we going to do it?"

He paused and grinned even more broadly. "I'm not going to con him -- you are!"

"Me?" she gasped, startled. "I don't know how to do something like that!"

"Don't worry, baby, I'll coach you every step of the way. He's gonna be butter in your hands."