by Bronwen John
“Hey, miss, anywhere in particular you’d like to go?” said the voice from the front, the man that both women had barely glanced at.
“I need to be taken to Covent Garden.” Ash glanced at the card again. The Jester. “Mad cow,” she muttered softly.
“Sacred in India, and you’ll be taken where I instruct you to be taken,” came a Southern drawl over the open radio. “Vin.”
Ash shrank back in her seat as she saw the familiar smile of the bounty hunter as he turned in his seat.
“Bring her in. But bring her the long way around.”
Fifteen
Ash stood in the centre of the room, glaring balefully at the door. Vin had driven for a solid hour, and for all Ash’s intimate knowledge of London, she had no idea where she was, beyond the fact that she was in a room in a building. The room was only on the first floor. She stared out into the street. There wasn’t even a black cab in sight, and the street seemed empty. It was the perfect way to make an escape.
Luke always said it was a miracle how she always landed on her feet, in both her escapes and in her luck in life. A small miracle she hadn’t been arrested by the police, but somehow she always managed it. That said, she might need to stop taking stupid risks. Sooner or later the miracles tended to run out, Luke had said.
What would Esther say? You’re an idiot. That’s what she would say. No, Ash corrected herself, making the quick decision that that wording would be much too simple for Esther. You’re an ineffectual idiot, taking too many small risks for a slice of puny loot at the end. Yes, that definitely sounded more like Esther.
But Esther Crook only played big risks for big rewards. She didn’t much like getting her hands dirty, preferring to keep her fingers on the marionette strings, manipulating the outcomes. She was the stage manager, the tactician and the leader.
The roping was done by Eleanor, and quite successfully too. No wonder Esther had been so proud of her team. Ash was still fascinated by how Eleanor had wound in the story of Esther’s painting by a second-rate artist to earn some extra money, and how she had guided the mark into this position. She could really understand the artwork of the con there.
The fixing was done by Caelan, organising behind the scenes, much like his sister, although in amiable silence. He was a chameleon, hiding in plain sight. Nobody had cast him a second look today when he’d been handling paperwork with the American grifters, though he was set to leave to meet up with Anton for America today. When Ash had asked Esther, Esther had not uncharitably pointed out that she had other cons on the line too. It was always better to have at least three big rewards in the wings, according to Esther.
Anton was the banker and thief, something that Esther prided herself on not being. Yet, she equally took pride in managing to help him capitulate to some con-artist traits. That in itself was a reward to Esther.
Getting away from Innocent would be a big reward for her at this moment, was all Ash could think when Esther had told her that. And she needed to do it soon.
“Good evening, Miss Cox,” Innocent greeted her as he walked into the room, not flanked by his bodyguards. He was dressed in a smart suit, and a wry smile was on his face.
“Good evening, Mr Innocent,” she said quietly.
“You were on the lam, I believe?” he said, smirking. His green eyes flickered with the humour of the situation. “Seems Miss Crook was too busy saving your skin to see you step into another snake trap.”
“You’re breaking my heart,” Ash snapped.
“You signed a contract, Miss Cox. You made a promise on paper that you near enough signed away when you escaped.”
“I would’ve met with you eventually.”
“You knew—”
“Yes, I knew you were coming. My mother knew you were coming and she’s been dead for ten years. Oh, sit down,” said Ash. “Stop making a spectacle of yourself.”
Innocent sat on the edge of the bed.
“Now let’s get to it, so we don’t have to spend any more time together than absolutely necessary.”
“That we can agree on. Well, what’s the con?”
“The Spanish Prisoner con?”
That earned a loud, if disbelieving, laugh. “Everybody and their mother knows the Spanish Prisoner. What’s it got to do with Holmes?”
“It’s so obvious that he’ll not be looking for it. Esther’s not given me the full details, except that I get out with the bribe money paid to some dealer by the name of Desjardin.”
Another guffaw.
“What?”
“A private joke, nothing more; take no offence,” he sighed. “You see, the plan you spun to Holmes, I could swallow. If that’s the tale that she’s told me to spin to you, then I’m less inclined.”
“Well, it’s what she asked Nancy Nunn to arrange,” Ash hissed. “It’s the one she’s gone through with a fine toothcomb.”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“I’m telling you what I know.”
“And a damn good job you are doing, too. Very good. Plus vous en saurez, plus il vous sera difficile de vous mentir,” he muttered to himself.
“Excuse me, I don’t speak French,” Ash said.
“Just an observation. I’ll make sure she has a burner phone and you keep an eye on her, and the girl, for that matter. A very daring escape.” Innocent clicked his tongue
“I’m glad to know I’m not trusted by you,” Ash said defiantly.
“Do you blame me? The only reason you came was you were forced, as I well expected. In fact, if you’d skipped in here I’d rather think you were trying to con me.”
“What’re you going to do to Esther?”
“Tan her to within an inch of her life,” he spat, handing Ash a phone. “You’d best call when the plan goes down. I expect daily updates.”
Ash was about to spit out a retort when Vin grabbed her arm and dragged her away. Apparently, he had decided that her silence was the better part of valour, and Ash could only wonder what kind of woman had inspired such love in this heartless gunrunner, for him to hunt Esther so remorselessly.
It was a thought that haunted her all the way to the rooms where they were staying. Caelan had been leaving when she’d arrived after being shoved out of the car by Vin. When she’d told him the edited, but nonetheless sordid, tale, he’d just rolled his eyes and woken Eleanor, snapping at her to cancel his flight for the time being. He’d then flung himself in front of the door, boring holes into it with the intensity of his gaze.
Big Ben was chiming three when Esther got in, but Ash watched as she collapsed into a seat. She had a nasty cut to the forehead, which Eleanor began tending to immediately. Esther allowed her, sharing a few hushed words, and Eleanor shooting glares at Ash. Caelan had joined her a moment later, pouring a whisky for the two of them. Green eyes narrowed in Ash’s direction, but he gave an almost imperceptible nod which she returned before he retreated silently to his bed.
“It’s not the kid’s fault… now go to bed.” Esther put her fingers to her bleeding head. “I am fine.”
“Only if you’re sure?” Eleanor began.
“Go on now; if Caelan can go to bed, so can you.”
Ash stood looking at her friend nervously, waiting for an explosion from Esther. Instead, Esther merely withdrew the familiar playing deck and threw it down, organising it with nimble fingers before reaching into her pocket and tearing open a new pack.
Silence overwhelmed the room as Esther fiddled with the cards, straightening them out and making a pattern as she sat at the table. She suddenly began humming the old nursery rhyme ‘Oranges and Lemons’. It gave an ominous feel to the already tense room, which threatened to drown Ash. She was forced into speaking again to try and escape that feeling of total guilt.
“I don’t ever remember seeing that kind of game before,” Ash said, attempting to make conversati
on as she looked at the card layout, which featured two vertical rows of four cards each, separated by space enough for two more. Apparently the centre spaces were supposed to be occupied by foundations building up in suit.
Esther didn’t look up. “It’s called Four Corners. Features two decks, tricky as hell. But it can be played in a small space.”
“You’ll have to teach me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about Hughes?” Esther asked blankly. The time for subterfuge was over.
“Thought you’d pull the con?”
“As if I don’t have any demons following me,” she said, not uncharitably.
“Well, I thought I lost him.”
“You have for the time being,” she sighed. “How long have you known that you were made by Hughes?”
“Never knew.” Ash sounded unconvincing even to herself.
Esther fixed her with a penetrating gaze that seemed to go right through her. She was too smart to be tricked by the measly shrug of the shoulders that Ash had offered. She started firing questions at her. “Have you seen anything suspicious? Do you feel like you’re being followed?”
“For God’s sake, Esther, shut up!” Ash snapped. “Since when did you become a prosecutor, judge and jury, and I become a suspect standing in the dock?”
With visible effort, Esther let out a breath and unclenched her hands. She didn’t say anything, just looked into Ash’s eyes until she began to feel the guilt seep into her bones.
“Do you know how easy it would be for one of Holmes’s men to get to you? We had a near-run thing with Hughes. He knows I’m here now, where I was hoping not to be.” Esther took a deep breath. “God knows this is a crooked enough business – hell, if I wanted honest I’d be speaking to gardeners; they’re about the only honest thing in this city. Except us! We have to trust each other, Ash.”
She looked at Ash with concern and worry. Ash found she couldn’t say anything intelligent or sarcastic in response. She was too busy staring into the depths of Esther’s eyes and wondering why she suddenly felt she was on a kind of trial already. She looked away.
“I trust you so much, in fact, I did get caught saving your hide!”
Ash continued to look away, dreading the guilt that the master poker player would see there.
“Look at me.”
“If you’re looking for an argument then you’ve broken your arm overstretching. I did wrong, I know.” Ash looked up at her and brusquely said, “All I’m asking for is a couple of days. That’s all. Please.”
Esther clenched her hands once more and turned her back. It was a decidedly cold gesture, and completely unexpected. “Go to bed.”
“Esther?”
“Go to bed. Sleep.”
Ash nodded and walked through to her bedroom. It overlooked the living room and she could clearly see Esther stacking the cards, with a glass of whisky next to her and her gaze subtly checking her charge.
Ash fell onto the bed, still fully clothed. The static sounded like cards beginning to be stacked and balanced on a coffee table. Maybe the static would not let Esther sleep, Ash thought as she drifted off into an exhausted slumber of her own, driven by the lullaby of the cards.
Giving the Convincer
Sixteen
“Coffee, anyone?”
“I’m not keen on strong coffee, but if you have a cup of tea?” Ash said politely.
She returned her gaze to overlook Kensington High Street, smiling as the jeweller’s assistant asked everyone the same question and received similar answers in reply. It was a bustling Saturday; the tourists and the weekend Londoners had come in. It was only ten o’clock and the city was at its best.
It was a far cry from only an hour and a half before, when she had arisen to receive dirty looks from Caelan and Eleanor, and a dark look from Esther. They’d shared an almost silent breakfast before Esther had announced her intention to go into town and see the Natural History Museum with Caelan. When Ash had voiced her concern, Esther had just shrugged and told her it was up to them to persuade Holmes and Innocent that she was beyond his reach.
“Well, Durant?”
“As ever, Mr Innocent, you were astute to bring it here.” The jeweller took off his glasses. “Yes, sir, this is the ruby.”
He sat back and nodded in abject fascination as Holmes’s wife gasped softly at it. Ash rolled her eyes. Holmes had brought the woman here to make sure that Esther’s painting was a fake – something even Innocent had shaken his head over.
“You’d swear I was lying to you; Crook said it was impossible to replicate,” Ash said, smirking at the men.
“Never harms to check, nonetheless.” Innocent carefully placed the ruby back in the box and then gestured at the photograph of the painting. “What do you think about that?”
“Obviously a fake – see the yellow mark here?” Elizabeth Holmes, wife of Harry Holmes, said.
“We use that to tell us a painting is false,” Eleanor said, sipping her tea with a measured calmness. “Then we hide it behind the framing.”
“Ingenious. What did the artist use for reference?” Elizabeth asked curiously.
“Wikipedia, of course; the original artwork was destroyed, apparently.”
“A rumour, nothing more,” Elizabeth said. “If you have enough money, it’ll be available.” She put her hands on her hips, eyes as predatory as her husband’s. “Well? What happens?”
“I’m supposed to have persuaded you to buy the fake ruby – it’ll be put in a fake setting. Then you show it off and she’ll arrange for the flying squad to be there.”
“I’ve already invited DCI Banks to a little soirée.” Holmes grimaced theatrically. He did hate dealing with the police – even if it was in an ‘honest’ capacity.
“As I tried explaining to Azeri, you won’t get Crook there,” Eleanor said softly. “She won’t step into the lion’s den for any money.”
“Who says she’s going to be stepping in?” Holmes said, as Ash watched the jeweller sign some papers. “What are those?”
“Verification papers. Mr Innocent asked for them.”
“I thought it might help other clients of your own,” Innocent said thoughtfully. “So, Miss Clarke?”
“Thank you.” Eleanor took these from him and tucked it into her pocket. “I will be certain to give this to Esther Crook also.” She smirked. “Might help her with her other cons.”
“You’ll be making your leave?” asked Innocent as Ash made her way across the room.
“I need to tell Esther Crook.”
“You’ve not told me the full con.”
“You put the money into one account,” explained Ash. “Then she walks away and you will be arrested, because she’ll no longer have the verification documents on her.”
Holmes nodded and raised his finger to interrupt, before his wife’s phone began to ring.
“Would you like to take that?”
“No.” The woman straightened her back. “I want to make sure that none of this attaches itself to us. My dear father is in line for a knighthood.”
“Yes, it’s important to us that our reputation stays intact, naturally,” said Holmes. “Even if Esther is being arrested I want it made clear that I’m buying duds.”
“I will make sure, when everything is discussed with Crook that the legal document will stand up in a court of law,” Ash said. “I’ll emphasise that you want it legal and binding with the wording.” She began pulling on her coat. “I’ll make sure you agree to it all legal and nice first. I’ll also fill you in on what the idea is and who it is she’s baiting.”
“You think you can get me in contact?”
“I’ll do my best,” Ash said, holding out her hand to shake. Holmes ignored it. Ash knew why, too. She was now his underling and didn’t deserve a handshake. She just shook her head. “I’ll do my best.�
��
“It’s the best you can do,” Innocent said, shaking her hand. “Anyhow, Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, then we’ll be on our way with the con.”
Ash started at the turn of phrase.
“What’s wrong? Never heard it?”
“I heard a friend use it recently.”
“Esther Crook’s father is fond of the expression, I believe,” he said, smirking. “Never met the man, but heard Crook say it on a few occasions, normally with a deal of affection.” He looked at the paperwork. “Several different buyers. Miss Crook sure is ambitious.”
“Ambition is the mother of necessity.”
Esther was sitting watching some old TV show, hands behind her head, as Ash came in. She threw a calm look at the door, before nodding on seeing her. Ash smirked. Esther hadn’t even dressed in decent clothes. She’d had a pyjama day, and it made her laugh that even the ambitious Esther Crook had such things.
“How’d it go?” Esther asked, coughing.
“You don’t know?” Ash said, walking through and hopping briefly as she pulled off her boots. “I would’ve thought Eleanor would’ve told you.”
“She told me that she had some verification documents for the ruby,” Esther said, looking idly at the television, and Ash chuckled when she saw the cards in front of her. “President’s Cabinet, it’s called, Ash; then the Leicester Square train was calling out her name… she had an appointment with Nancy to go over a few last details and get them out of the way. Then I suppose she’ll be meeting her marks.”
“Her marks?”
“Didn’t think that I was only conning Hughes, did you?” Esther raised her eyebrows. “Hell, girl, we need money out of here if this goes belly up.”
“So you’ve been conning other people?”
Esther nodded.
“Who?”
“First one is Eleanor’s choice, by the name of Gideon Royale. He’s an American loudmouth who likes nothing more than betting on the British horse-racing calendar and thrashing horses. Got away with beating up his wife last year; poor woman walked into a door so badly that she was in hospital for three weeks. But he likes prizes that he can’t win, and that is one.” Esther snorted. “He’s in for £250,000.”
