Big Bad Billionaires [Volume 1]
Page 10
That was why Harry the Hat was living in the lap of luxury for the rest of his days and had been for many years. He’d had a plan; he’d stuck to it, and he’d won. He didn’t need to mess about with nickel and dime scores like the rest of us, he just kept his eyes on the prize, and then he took it.
So why was Harry so lucky? Why was he living the life that the rest of us all dreamed of? Because he took his time. He got a job at a bank, worked his way up and after a few years, he was handling bridging loans between some of the biggest banks in the world; loans that are repaid within days, sometimes within hours. Before long, Harry was in control of millions of dollars, and nobody was keeping tabs on him.
It took him one night. Just one night, to drain the coffers dry, siphon millions into an off-shore bank account, and make his way to Brazil.
He wasn’t like the rest of us. He wasn’t getting pinched for selling bags of coke on street corners, counterfeiting money or shaking down pizza shops. He was just a guy who played a game, and he won. He was the most successful, rich and notorious criminal any of us knew, and he’d never even had a parking ticket.
Unfortunately for the rest of us, things like that only work once. As soon as people realized what Harry the Hat had done, everybody started trying to do it. Then, before you knew it, the banks ramped up their security and everyone who followed lost the game.
Nicole and I weren’t like that. Sure, we’d hustled our fair share of ill-gotten gains, and we’d had our fingers in a few rotten little pies; but the life we lived was a roller coaster. Sometimes, we’d end the year with cash to flash and enough change to choke a donkey; other times, we were so poor we couldn’t afford a pot for a piss.
Nicole - my partner in crime and my lover - she was no thug like me. She was smart, talented, and resourceful in ways that I just couldn’t be. She’d passed the Neolithic bats and bars age of crime and evolved into something much more. Not only was she a master hacker, but she’d also - much like Harry - worked her way up to the top of the private security firm. She’d personally provided over the creation of cutting edge security technology; I’m talking about infrared sensors, titanium safes, unbreakable locks - the lot. Nicole knew more about cracking a safe, disabling a security system or hacking a server than anyone I knew. Compared to her, I was nothing but a Neanderthal with a big set of fists.
***
I watched as Jason eyed the Pink Jupiter with envy. I could see it in his face, the scenarios running through his head. He’d corner Didier, make some threat which would scare the living shit out of him, and force him to hand over the diamond. But it was all just fantasy. Didier would be surrounded by his security team at all times. Jason would be shot dead before he even got close.
I loved Jason. I remember meeting him many years ago at a bar, all bruised and broken after some brawl broke out down the road. Even though blood dripped from his nose, and nobody in the bar looked at him cross-eyed, I’d seen a certain vulnerability in him; a strange sort of loneliness that drew me to him. I approached him willingly, which surprised everyone - even the bartender was afraid to take his order. We talked that night, and I realized that - far from being the thug he wanted everyone to believe he was - he was actually something of a gentle giant.
Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t too bright. He told me his stories; muggings, minor robberies, and other little scrapes, but what he didn’t tell me until later was that he’d never actually forcibly taken anything from anyone. Usually, his size and strength, along with whatever threat came out of his mouth, was enough to make most people surrender their possessions, or do whatever he asked them to do.
That’s why; in his flight of fancy, which I could see playing out on his face, he wasn’t taking the diamond from Didier; he was being handed the diamond.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked, stroking Jason’s arm.
“Only downwards,” he muttered.
I looked across the table at him. The glow on his face when he’d seen that diamond was the most animated he’d been in weeks. To see him this glum was depressing, and I worried that no matter how much I tried to comfort him, he simply wouldn’t feel any better. Sometimes he’d fake a smile, but as soon as he believed I wasn’t looking, the smile fell from his face as quickly as it had arrived. I could tell a fake smile when I saw one; I could tell any fake expression when I saw one. I’d been making them for years.
We’d been running a scam for the last year; it involved creating false investment portfolio’s designed to cater to the affluent and empty-headed. You know the type; guys who’d never worked a day in their life, but still drove a Rolls-Royce around an estate that they inherited from their fathers. It was a simple scam, and we’d been living off it for a while, but nothing lasts forever, and pretty soon the scam became as well-known as that Nigerian Prince who’s got all his money squirreled away, but just needs a few dollars of collateral to transfer the money.
I’d shut the scam down, and severed all ties to us before Interpol had the chance to get involved, so we were in the clear, legally speaking. But it wasn’t putting food on the table. That scam had given us a trickle of cash each month, but now that income stream had dried up, and we had nothing to fall back on. I’d considered going back to work for my old security company Gamplast Home Security Services and Technology. I’d made good money there, but the thought of sitting in an office for eight hours a day whilst fat Brenda talked incessantly about last night’s episode of who-the-fuck-cares was just more than I could bear; and what would Jason do? Sure, he’d worked a few security jobs, but going straight was surrendering. We weren’t ready to surrender to the 40 hour work week, followed by retirement and death; surely there was something else we could do. Surely there was some other way.
“Harry the Hat,” Jason spoke.
Here we go again.
“He just did one big score,” he raised his finger. “Just one score, and he’s living the dream,” he continued.
Jason admired Harry the Hat. He was a man who’d never touched a baseball bat in his life and was richer than everyone we’d ever known.
“He stayed focused. He got inside. He got the job done. He got out.”
I stroked his arms. “He was lucky,” I said.
“He wasn’t lucky,” Jason shook his head. “He wasn’t gambling. He knew his plan would work. Now he’s off in Brazil or wherever-the-fuck, with nothing but sun, sea, and sand. And here we are, stuck up shit creek on a sinking boat with no oars.”
I sighed. “Come on Jay,” I said softly, “things aren’t that bad.”
The words did nothing to nullify the expression of sheer hopelessness on his face. Suddenly, it occurred to me. One big score; that was all we needed.
“What about...” I said, hesitant to continue, “The Pink Jupiter?”
Jason looked at me, raising one eyebrow.
“What? That shiny rock that’s big enough to knock out an elephant?” He said, “Why aim so low Nicole? Why not take the Hope Diamond too whilst we’re at it?”
I shook my head apathetically.
“Well, why not?” I explained.
Jason looked away from me for a moment and then turned his face back, squinting.
“How good do you think Didier’s security is? Do you think you could crack it?”
I looked back at him, shaking my head, “Honestly? No. Not now anyway.”
The look of disappointment returned to Jason’s face, as he scratched at his stubble.
“But we could play it like Harry the Hat did,” I explained, “I mean, Didier Diva lives in a mansion on the Upper West Coast, those mansions don’t look after themselves. They need cooks, cleaners, mechanics, personal assistants...and security.”
Jason’s face lit up.
“So we get inside,” Jason grinned, “find out where the diamond is, and how to break the security system, then get the hell out of there.”
I nodded. “It won’t be as simple as that, though. But how hard could it be? In a few hours, I c
ould hack into a few servers; create an entire identity, an entire career based on my experience as a personal assistant. Get myself a job as Didier’s personal assistant, and get you in as a security guard.”
Jason’s face screwed up in confusion. “Wait a second. Wouldn’t it make more sense if you applied for the security role?”
“It’s too obvious,” I stated. “I’m sure we’re not the first ones to have tried this. This is misdirection. I can break locks easily, but if we’re gonna get our hands on that diamond, I’m gonna need to gain his trust.”
Chapter 2
I understood why they called him eccentric. Here he was - with one leg raised over the other - covered from head to toe in the finest clothes and jewels. Fuck, the rings on his fingers alone must have been worth a cool million, and these were probably just his casual clothes.
I’d gone through all the initial interviews, all the usual small talk. Questions about my experience, scenarios in which I’d met the needs of my employers, all of which were fabricated. The lies I’d spun were nothing short of poetry; I’d created an entire personality; an entire life in which I’d worked as a personal assistant, starting out as a simple office assistant and working my way up to minor celebrities, politicians, even ambassadors. I’d catered to their every need.
He spent the first thirty seconds just staring at me, locking eyes with me. I suppose this was an attempt to intimidate me. This was the shark tank, and I needed to swim.
“So, Nicole,” he spoke firmly. “Your resume is quite impressive.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Anyone can write up an impressive resume. It takes so much more to be an impressive person. Do you think you’re an impressive person?”
“Well,” I said smiling, “I guess that depends on what impresses you.”
“I’m an actor,” he said raising his hand. “Which means that I’m impressed by the authenticity of a character. Many people carry themselves with an air of authenticity, most people consider themselves honest, genuine people. But we delude ourselves too much. We follow the same customs and traditions that society expects of us, and then expect that that will afford us some degree of acceptance in society. Would you agree?”
I leaned closer. “I’d say I do. However...” I said, pointing to the rings on his fingers, “how authentic do you consider yourself to be Didier, when you constantly flaunt your wealth?”
Didier raised one eyebrow.
“You’re right. I flaunt my wealth. I wear rings and jewelry that are worth more than most people’s homes. But I do not do it to impress others. I do it for two reasons; firstly, gems and precious stones are ancient things; within a diamond, you have millions of years of heat and pressure, and from all those years of heat and pressure, you have a beautiful, indestructible object. To wear one is humbling, it reminds us of the fragility of human life, and the immortality of the world we live in. We live our lives as temporary beings inhabiting a mote of revolving rock, and we must never forget that.”
Didier’s words flowed confidently, almost regally.
“The second reason that I flaunt my wealth is because I am wealthy. I have made millions of dollars, both through my acting abilities, and my entrepreneurial investments; and no matter how many,or how few, diamonds I wear, that will still be true.”
Didier locked eyes with me.
“If I were to be stripped of all my jewels and sit before you naked, would you believe me to be a poor man?”
I shook my head.
“So,” he continued, “On the subject of authenticity if you are to be my personal assistant, I expect you to be honest with me at all times. I expect you to take care of my every whim and desire - as and when I have them - and I expect you to know me not as a boss, but as a friend and companion. And I expect to know you in the same way.”
I squinted at Didier, “Well Mr. Diva, I’d expect nothing less.”
“Friends do not refer to one another by titles. Do not call me ‘Mister’, Forget professional courtesy. Tell me about who you are.”
“Well...” I said, “I began my career as a...”
“I am not interested in your career, Nicole,” he spoke bluntly. “I have read through your entire resume, spoken to all of your referees, and I am sure you are more than capable of being a personal assistant. But are you capable of being my personal assistant? That we will have to find out. That is the purpose of this interview,” he explained.
“That’s understandable Didier,” I said. “So what is it you’d like to know?”
Didier leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head.
“I’m going to jump right in at the deep end and ask you a question that most inauthentic people would flat-out refuse to answer, for fear of judgment. In fact, most would be angered by such a question, and tell me to mind my own business. But if you can answer me - without fear of judgment - and totally ignorant of the socially constructed concepts of privacy and humility, then I shall be impressed.”
I glanced at Didier, unsure of what his game was.
“Ask away,” I encouraged him.
“What was your most pleasurable sexual experience?” he asked, fixing me with a stare.
This threw me slightly, but I refused to allow my face to betray my anxiety. If I was to gain his trust, I would have to answer his questions.
“It’s difficult to say,” I spoke slowly.
“Is it difficult to say because you do not believe that it is socially acceptable to answer?” Didier asked. “Or is it difficult to say because you do not feel comfortable around me?”
I grinned. “Neither. It’s difficult to say...because there have been so many.”
Didier raised his eyebrows.
“Which one did you most recently masturbate over?” he asked.
“A threesome I had in college. There were two men, and another in the corner watching.”
Didier sat up in his chair.
“Kudos to you Nicole, for your candidness,” he said warmly. “An experience which I’d love to have myself one day.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “I’m sure a man of your wealth and status has the opportunity for all manner of perversions.”
“That’s true,” he nodded. “However, those who approach me are often lacking in that one thing that impresses me the most; authenticity.”
I arched my eyebrows. “I’d imagine you get many women throwing themselves at you; hoping to get a handful of those jewels; if you’ll pardon the pun.”
Didier laughed raucously.
“I’ll admit it, Nicole,” he explained. “You have swayed me. I’ll hire you on a two-week trial basis.”
***
I hadn’t seen Jason’s face light up like that in months. When I told him that I’d secured the job, it almost felt like I’d dropped the Pink Jupiter right into his lap. But there was a long way to go yet.
“I can’t believe it...” he exclaimed. “I mean... I can believe it because you’re you... but wow!”
He lifted me up in the air and embraced me tightly. “Settle down big man,” I laughed. “We’ve still got a long way to go yet.”
Jason squeezed me tightly, his strong arms firmly wrapping my entire torso.
“Now all we need to do is to find out where he keeps the diamond,” I said, “and the type of safe he’s using. Everything else will be child’s play. I took a cursory glance at his security system, and it looks like he’s using an older model, easy enough to crack. But breaking into the safe will take some work. Whatever kind he’s using, it won’t be anything we can open with a drill or an auto-dialler. We’re talking hardplate steel embedded with tungsten carbide chips and-”
“-who says we have to crack the safe at all?” Jason winked at me.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, if he paid fifty million for a diamond ring, at some point he’s gonna want to wear it,” Jason grinned.
Chapter 3