The Collectors

cherry-red lipstick, sleek eyeglasses, funky clothes and blocky-heeled shoes. Her three companions were all dressed in two-piece suits with no ties. They didn’t leave the airport together. They drove south and rendezvoused at a rental unit in Atlantic City.

Being back in the town after so many years, Annabelle could feel her tension level rising. The last time, she had come far too close to dying. But being tense could easily get her killed this time around. She would have to trust her nerves to weather what was coming. She had prepared nearly twenty years of her life for this moment. She did not intend to waste it.

Over the last week she’d wired the funds from the altered checks out of the corporate accounts. Those sums plus the stash from the ATM scam had been put into an overseas account that did not abide by a single U.S. banking regulation. With $3 million in seed money, the men were anxious to hear Annabelle’s plan for the long con.

And yet she was clearly not ready to tell them. She spent much of the first day walking the town, scoping the casinos and in discussions with certain nameless people. The men spent the downtime playing cards and shooting the breeze. Leo and Freddy regaled young Tony with stories of old scams embellished and polished to the degree that only distant memories could inspire.

She finally called them all together.

“My plan is to turn our three million into a lot more, in a relatively short period of time,” she informed them.

“I just love your style, Annabelle,” Leo said.

“Specifically, I plan to turn our three million into at least thirty-three million. I walk away with thirteen point five, and you split the rest three ways. That’s six and a half per. Anybody have a problem with that?”

The men sat there stunned for a full minute. Leo finally answered for them. “Yeah, boy, that just sucks.”

She held up a warning hand. “If the scam doesn’t work, we could lose some of the seed, but not all. Everybody all right with rolling that dice?” Each of them nodded. “The amount of money we’re talking will necessitate taking certain risks on the back end.”

Leo said, “Translation, whoever we’re ripping off will never stop looking for us.” He lit a cigarette. “And now I think it’s time you told us who it is.”

Annabelle sat back and slid her hands in her pockets. She never took her gaze off Leo’s face, and he stared back in turn. Finally, he said nervously, “Is it really that bad?”

“We’re hitting Jerry Bagger and the Pompeii Casino,” she announced.

“Holy shit!” Leo yelled, his cigarette falling out of his mouth. It landed on his leg and burned a small hole in his pants. He angrily swiped at the burn mark and pointed a shaky finger at her. “I knew it! I knew you were gonna pull this crap.”

Tony looked at each of them. “Who’s Jerry Bagger?”

Leo said, “The meanest son of a bitch you hope you never cross paths with, sonny boy, that’s who.”

Annabelle joked, “Come on, Leo, it’s my job to get him juiced about the scam. Keep that up, he’ll want to take on Jerry all by himself.”

“I’m not taking on Jerry effing Bagger for three million, thirty-three million or three hundred and thirty-three million because I won’t live to enjoy it anyway.”

“But you came here with us. And like you said, you knew I was going for him. You knew it, Leo.” She stood, came around the table and draped a long arm around his shoulders. “And if the truth be known, you’ve been waiting for a shot to take that weasel down for the last twenty years. Admit it.”

Leo suddenly looked embarrassed, lit another Winston and shakily blew smoke to the ceiling. “Anybody who’s done business with that bastard wants to kill him. So what?”

“I don’t want to kill him, Leo. I just want to steal so much money from Jerry that it’ll hurt him where it matters the most. You could wipe out his whole family, and it wouldn’t bother the guy nearly as much as knowing somebody got the money he’s been piling up from the poor schmucks that trip through his casino every minute of every day.”

“Sounds cool,” Tony chimed, while Freddy still looked uncertain.

Leo stared in fury at the young man. “Cool? You think it’s cool? Let me tell you something, you little know- nothing punk. You mess up in front of Jerry Bagger like you did at that bank, there won’t be enough left of you to send in an envelope to your mama for burial.” Leo turned and pointed a finger at Annabelle. “Let me make something real clear right now. I am not taking on Jerry Bagger. But I am really not taking on Jerry Bagger with this screw-up along.”

“Hey, I made one mistake. You never made a mistake?” Tony protested.

Leo didn’t answer. He and Annabelle were engaged in a lengthy stare-down.

She said quietly, “Tony’s role is limited to what he does best. He has no face time with Jerry.” She glanced at Freddy. “And Freddy’s backroom all the way. He just has to make some good-looking paper. The success of the scam depends on you. And me. So unless you think we’re not good enough, I don’t see a valid objection.”

“They know us, Annabelle. We’ve been here before.”

She walked around the table and opened a manila folder that sat on the table in front of her chair. She held up two glossies of a man and a woman.

“Who’s that?” Freddy asked, puzzled.

Leo answered grudgingly as he gazed at the pictures. “Me and Annabelle, from a long time ago. In At-lan-tic Ci-ty,” he spat out.

“Where’d you get the photos?” Tony asked.