The Longest Con: A Family of Grifters Tale
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedications
Preface
THE LONGEST CON
STEP 1 – The Short Con
STEP 2 – The Test
STEP 3 – The Buildout
STEP 4 – The Fix
STEP 5 – The Rope
STEP 6 – The Tale
STEP 7 – The Demonstration
STEP 8 – The In-and-In
STEP 9 – The Hurrah
STEP 10 – The Blow-off
STEP 11 – The Faceoff
STEP 12 - Graduation
Credits
Want more?
Acknowledgements
About FoG, TLC, and 3DN
About the Author
THE LONGEST CON:
A Tale from the Family of Grifters
by Bill Patterson
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
THE LONGEST CON
Copyright © 2017 by Bill Patterson
All rights reserved.
Cover design © 2017 Christian Bentulan
All rights reserved.
DEDICATIONS
To Barbara, The Wonderful Wife™. Without your love and support, none of this would be possible.
To COL Edwin D. Patterson, the best father a son could ask for, here’s the first of what I hope are many works.
To COL Jack Capps: It took me decades, but I finally ground out something worthy of publication.
To all of the authors I’ve met during The International 3 Day Novel Contest. In no particular order (cuz I luv you all), Mulligan, CatRad, Kritty, JK, Sarah, ShadowWolf, and Arctic. There are more, but I do have to get this book out!
To my writing wife, Chris. Thank you for kicking my tail down this road to Indie publishing. Now, come follow me.
Preface to Family of Grifters
No matter how advanced human civilization gets, some things remain the same. Most people live within the rules of civilization. Others cannot. The highest rank among those of the criminal class is that of grifter. It is the dream of every grifter to be part of a long-con crew. In mid 2100s, the best long-con crew is Swen's Squad. Family of Grifters is a collection of some of their more memorable tales.
Preface to The Longest Con
Aphrodite Station, circling Venus, crosses behind the Sun every 584 days. Only then could the longest of con jobs be executed. In 2144, a young group of buncos who call themselves 'Coffey's Conners' are out to show their con-artist parents that they are mature enough to form their own crew. But the game the parents have in mind, 'The Wire', has not been pulled off in at least a century. With Aphrodite Station on the far side of the Sun, Coffey’s Conners are beyond help, beyond hope if things go wrong. If they get caught, the consequences are no further than the nearest airlock.
The world of criminals is stratified, much like the world of the law-abiding. You have those whom even hardened murderers despise, like child molesters. Then you have your serial killers, murderers, then the various gradations of violent crime. Then there are the nonviolent offenders, like embezzlers and tax evaders. at the top of the heap are the grifters or, as some people call them, con artists. They are the aristocracy of crime.
A con, or confidence game, is a crime where the grifter gets you to trust him, then abuses that trust and takes your money. The perfect con is one where you don’t dare report it to the police, because, well, the actual thing you were trying to cash in on was itself illegal. Insider trading, money laundering, illegal gambling, all of these fields are ripe for the aspiring con artist.
It is said the difference between a short con and a long con is that the short con is taking all the money you have on you, whereas the long con involves sending you away to go get all the money you can and come back to give it to the grifter.
But what if that distance was almost a quarter billion kilometers? That would make it
The Longest Con
STEP 1 – The Short Con
Eddie checked his watch: 12:45. “Showtime, Maria,” he said under his breath. He let go of her hand, stepped off the curb, took two strides, bounced off the speeding delivery van and rolled back to a stop at the feet of Maria, who obligingly screamed and dropped to cradle him.
The van, electric motor whining up as it gained speed, rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.
Maria looked up to a man in the slouched pants standing next to her. His eyes were glued to a tablet, and the white plastic of miniaturized headphones stood out from his swarthy skin.
“Help me!” Maria called, putting all of her acting ability into it. “My boyfriend here is hurt!”
The man looked down, grimaced at the seeping 'blood', and shifted his gaze to Maria. “Call 911?” he asked, pulling one headphone out of his ear.
“No, I can do that. I need real help.” She fumbled the wallet out of Eddie's back pocket.
“Say what?” asked the man. “Dude's bleeding.”
Maria looked down at Eddie. “Some. It's not pumping out though. But the clock is running!” She pulled a sheaf of bills out of the wallet. “If we don't get the rent to the landlord by one PM, he'll throw us out of our apartment. That's in twelve minutes!” She folded the money and rooted in her handbag, coming up with an envelope. She licked the flap of the envelope and sealed it one-handed, closing her handbag at the same time. The envelope bulged.
Another young man appeared as if out of nowhere. “Are you hurt?” he asked Maria. “I'm Albert, I know some first aid.”
“No, it's my boyfriend. He's hurt.” Albert dropped to his knees and began checking out Eddie.
Maria stood up. “Can you take this to my landlord? He's at the court house, five blocks straight ahead. I can't leave Eddie, and the rent has to get there!”
“Why me?” asked the man, starting to put the headphone in his ear and turning away.
“Seriously, man?” asked Albert. He began to tear a piece off his t-shirt, as if to bandage up Eddie. “I'm doing something for this lady, and you can't?”
The man turned back. “Yeah, fine. My good deed for the day. What's the dude's name?”
Maria had the envelope in her hand, scrawling something on it with a pen. “His name is R. Hertz, and he's a white guy, about so tall, with slicked back hair.”
“Hertz, slicked hair,” repeated the man, reaching for the envelope.
“Wait, you're not just going to give him all that money, are you?” asked Albert. “What's to keep him from just walking off with it?”
Maria knelt down by Eddie. He still was out. She looked at his watch. “Ten minutes left! What do I do?”
Albert stood. “Look, buddy, we're not going anywhere. You can run over, find this Hertz guy, give him the money, have him sign the envelope, and still get back here before the ambulance comes, right?”
The guy shuffled his feet. “Yeah, guess so.”
“So, give this lady something so she makes sure that you're coming back. That can't be too hard, right?”
The man thought about it. “I dunno.”
Albert appeared to lose patience. “Whatcha got on you? Wallet? Cash? Something?”
The man lifted up his shirt and dug in his front pocket. A dark shape was stuffed in his waist band. “Money clip.”
“Fine. Give her, what, a couple of hundred?”
“No way! That's too much!”
“How much is the rent payment, miss?” Albert asked.
“We have
a few months to make up. It's all there.”
Albert turned to the man. “There. She's trusting you with several thousand, at least. You can trust her with at least one thousand, right?” Albert pointed to the money clip.
The man stuffed the envelope in his other front pocket. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, peeling off the bills.
“Oh, thank you,” said Maria, smiling her brightest smile.
“You better get going,” said Albert. “You've got seven minutes to go five blocks. Move!”
The man took off.
Albert watched the man until he was out of sight. “Okay, let's move.”
Eddie stood up and brushed himself off. “Wonder where Carow got the van.” They walked quickly up the cross street.
“Who knows? That's why he's the Fixer. Our own personal jack-of-all-trades.” Albert smiled. “Good roping, Eddie. How'd you mark him?”
“Guy had a gold tooth. I saw him digging something out of it.”
“He also had a gun,” said Maria. “I saw it when he pulled up his shirt.”
“Drug dealer?” asked Albert.
“Who knows? I just felt he had a bunch of money on him.” Eddie subconsciously sped up his pace. “We've been working this side of town hard. We might have burned this area out now.”
“Yes, we should get out of here,” said Albert. The trio strode rapidly to the waiting van.
STEP 2 – The Test
“I've had it!” said Carow Tarloff. He paced the mid-range hotel room, smacking his hands together. Twenty-five and wiry, he resembled the junior male in a pride of lions. “I say we have to demand it. They're never going to let us out on our own unless we reach out and grab it.”
Maria Madigan, the youngest of the four at twenty-two, looked around at the other two young men in the room. “I'm afraid I agree with Carow. Our folks have us working short cons until we're ragged. That last one, the Pigeon Drop with that punk from the South Side? The guy was armed—I saw it when Eddie was doing the switch. It's getting more dangerous all the time.”
Eddie Swenson, twenty-three and as blonde as his parents, sighed. “It's getting tougher all the time to find 'marks' our age. It's all over the web, be careful, watch out for scams. This town is almost done for. I don't know why they won't let us move on. Come on, Albert, you've got to have a theory. The parents don't call you 'Einstein' for nothing, you know.”
Albert 'Einstein' Coffey looked around at his three friends and sighed. “There's only one thing that fits. It's another test. The way I figure it, they're going to keep us working short cons until we either revolt, get jailed, or pass out from exhaustion.
“They are our parents. We chose to live with them because we wanted to do what they do. Before we cut the cord, I want to make sure that everyone really wants to break away from them and form our own crew.” Albert pushed up from the easy chair and grabbed the small pad of paper on the nightstand. “Yeah or nay.”
Carow quickly wrote on his slip, folded it, and handed it to Albert. He crossed his arms across his chest and glared at the floor.
The other two paused for a moment, then wrote on their slips and handed them to Albert. He looked at each one.
“There comes a time in all men's souls when they must step out on their own, be their own person, and set their own path on life's epic journey. For us four, that time has come. The vote is unanimous.
“I will send our parents Coffey's Connors Declaration. “Albert handed each of his friends a playing card. “Carow Tarloff, Fixer.”
Carow turned over his card, the Jack of Diamonds. He looked quizzically at Albert.
“Jack of all trades,” Albert said.
Carow smiled and tucked the card into his shirt pocket.
“Eddie Swenson, Roper.”
Eddie turned over a King of Diamonds. “Huh?”
“The King always hobnobs with the rich and powerful,” explained Albert.
Eddie grunted.
“Maria Madigan, Banker.”
She held the card face down. “Let me guess, Queen of Diamonds.” She turned up the exact card she’d guessed.
“You should run a mentalist act,” said Eddie. “Let us guess—Albert is the Ace, right?”
Albert turned up the last card. “Albert Coffey, Leader. Are there any objections? No? Do I hear a second?”
“Seconded,” said Eddie. “Time we were on our own.”
“So moved.” Albert went over to his console, toggled some keys. “The die is cast, the Rubicon crossed, the fuse is lit.”
“Finally,” said Carow pacing the room like a restless lion. “I love my Mom and all, but wow, sometimes she can get a little too much, know what I mean? After they let us go, I say we hit Vegas. Winter's coming up, and I don't want to be doing The Flop in Chicago snow.”
***
“One minute, tops,” said the rough-looking character in casual slacks and a pullover. “One thousand dollars.” Cole Coffey, the Fixer of Swen's Squad, sat forward, the ancient leather of the voluptuous chair creaking as he moved. “Albert's a freaking genius, and I'd be nuts to bet against my own boy.”
“He had to get it from his mother. You can boost anything we need, just like my Carow, but you can't figure your way out of a paper bag.” An aging brunette scowled, a single line marring her smooth forehead above large green eyes. “No way, Cole. It took me twenty minutes to see it the first time.” She directed her frown at another man sprawled atop an indecently comfortable couch; drink perched precariously on its arm. “I'm not blonde, like Hans over there. Ten minutes, and I'll match your thousand.” She pulled out the bills from her purse and started fanning herself. She always had cash; she was the Banker.
Hans Swenson chuckled and sipped at his sixty-four-year-old Scotch. The Leader of Swen's Squad at forty-six, he was trim and fit, essential for his line of work. “Ah, but the young these days think differently. Take my Eddie. He can talk your wallet right out of your pants, but he has trouble seeing more than five moves ahead. But you are way too pessimistic, Eileen. Two thousand in the pot? I'll take three minutes for my thousand. Anyone want to make a side bet on who will get the answer?”
The three looked at each other, shrugged, and turned to the last man in the room. Scott Madigan, was forty-four and their only redhead. Swen's version of Eddie's King, Scott smiled hugely, looking up from his console. “Maria’s damn impressive, but there’s no contest. 'Einstein' will get it—he always does. But not before five minutes. Closest guess wins, even underestimates?” Everyone nodded. “It's a bet. Eileen holds the money, like always, and Hans will time it.”
Hans looked around the room. “Nobody said anything, right? No hints? Nothing casually left on a console?” Everyone shook their heads 'no'. Swen's Squad was the best confidence game crew around.
“Okay, let's bring them in,” said Hans, levering himself from the couch. He led the others into the part they called 'the office,' complete with a large wooden desk and abutting mahogany conference table. At the side of the room stood an antique roll-top desk. It looked more like a liquor cabinet than anything else. The top was closed.
Hans sat behind the desk, the other three took seats at the conference table. He touched a control on the desk. “Come on in, please.”
The door opened, and the four young people of Coffey's Conners walked in, striding through the luxurious sitting room and into the office space, where they formed an arc at the foot of the conference table. Cole’s son, Albert Coffey, stood a little ahead of the others. He was thin but well-muscled, his tailored clothing accentuating his physique.
“Mr. Swenson,” he said, nodding at the other, older adults seated before him. “Thank you for meeting with us. I am surprised, though. I can't think of the last time all eight of us have been gathered in the same room before.”
“Security,” murmured Eileen Tarloff. “Although, we should be safe here.” Her frown line deepened, and she refrained from looking at Hans. The two of them had decidedly different ideas about security.
Albert's hands tightened slightly on each other as he clasped them behind his back. “Sir, we come to you, our parents, with great respect. You have been our teachers and our mentors. We have absorbed, we believe, all that we can learn under your direct supervision. At some point, though, birds must leave the nest and discover flight on their own. We believe we are at that point. We ask for your blessing and release.”
Hans rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I see. Do you have an operation yet? Do you have a mark?”
Albert turned to his Roper on his left. “Eddie has one.”
Eddie Swenson nodded back at Albert. He was a younger version of his father Hans, but with a wider, more serious face. His eyes were a twinkling gray, framed by a shock of buttery-yellow hair.
“Adolphus Riggs,” Eddie started. “Banker, gourmand, and a nasty piece of work. He is trying to rid himself of trophy wife number two, but she's smart as an alleycat, and won't go quietly. Right now, they are warring via lawyers, but soon it will spill over into the courtroom, and then it gets ugly.”
Scott Madigan glanced at his daughter, Maria, then at Albert. “I thought we warned you to avoid those kinds of marks. We don't pick sides in divorce actions. The karma is horrible. Any children?”
Eddie shook his head. “None. That's why I thought this one would be better. Rule Three: We limit damage to innocents.”
“What's the tale?” asked Scott.
“Badger Game,” said Eddie. “Right now, Adolphus is looking for another warm body. Maria volunteered to be his next squeeze. Wait for him to get busy with her, Carow busts in with a couple of toughs. I figure we could take him for a hundred thou, easy.”