Unsure whether to be intrigued or annoyed, she took the quarter and held it out. He put his hands on the table, then suddenly glanced over her shoulder. "Oh!" he said, and when she turned her head, he snatched the coin.
"You cheated!" she accused.
"No I didn't," he smiled. "The goal of the game was to take the quarter, and that's what I did."
She gave him a long stare. "Let's try it again. You hold the quarter."
When he held it out, she put her hands on the table and then raised one, poised to snatch. As his eyes darted to the moving hand, her other hand flew up from the table and hit the back of his hand. The quarter flew up in the air and she grabbed it in triumph.
"Bravo!" he applauded, "both a diversion and a surprise move." He smiled broadly. "You have quick hands and an even quicker mind. I think you just might do."
She was surprised at how gratified she felt, but then she remembered how little she really knew about the man and what he was offering. "Look, this is all very interesting, but you still haven't told me what this is all about."
He nodded. "You're right: it's time for some details, but this is not the place to discuss them." He handed her a card with an address and phone number. "Meet me tomorrow at 10:00 a.m. at my office. I promise you I'll have all the answers to all your questions. If you like the answers, we'll go forward from there. If you don't, I'll call an Uber to take you home and you'll have lost nothing except a morning."
He started to get up from the table. "And if you go home this evening and get cold feet, just call the number on the card and leave a message that you're not coming." He smiled. "But I really hope you'll come."
The next morning, when Circe pushed open the door to the address Marcus had given her, she found herself in the lobby of what appeared to be a small business. There was no else there, but the door opening must have tripped a silent alarm, because Marcus quickly appeared through a door in the back of the lobby area.
"I'm so glad you came, Circe," he enthused, ushering her into one of a pair of small offices outfitted with a utilitarian desk and two chairs. He gestured her to the large, comfortable sofa against one wall. When she was seated on it, he handed her a cup of coffee. She noticed that he'd prepared hers the way she liked it.
"You must have been pretty certain I'd show up today," she commented in between sips.
"Let's just say I'm an optimist," he smiled. Then he flipped open a folder he held in his lap. "But your profile says that you're adventurous, a risk-taker, so I had reason to be confident."
"You have a profile on me?" she frowned. "What did you do: have a PI to investigate me?"
"Exactly."
Now she was angry. "So you already knew the answers to the questions you asked me yesterday. Just what other information do you have on me?"
He sat back in his chair and looked at her calmly. "I've watched clips of every show you've ever been in, every commercial you've ever shot. I have a record of your grades from The New School as well as from Dewitt Clinton High School. And I have transcripts of interviews done with your friends and your old boyfriends."
As he went through his list, Circe grew increasingly upset. "What gives you the right to go poking into my private life?"
"This is a critical role, and we only get one shot at, so I need to be certain you're the right choice."
She folded her arms across her chest. "This isn't really an acting job, is it?"
"It most definitely is, but it's not like any acting you've ever done before, I suspect." Then his expression brightened. "But it also pays better than any acting job you've ever had before either. On top of that, all your expenses will be covered for the whole gig." He leaned forward. "If you pull this off, you're going to do very well for yourself."
Then his tone changed. "But you're not going to take this job for the money. I think you're going to take it because it's likely to be the biggest acting challenge of your career, and because it will be an adventure you'll never forget."
He could almost see her mind processing what he'd told her, and the conflict that set off for her. Abruptly she asked, "Did you mean it yesterday - I don't have to kill anybody, do I?"
He smiled and shook his head no.
Her gaze hardened. "Anything illegal? If this goes wrong, am I going to wind up in jail?"
"You're going to see the line the law draws, but you're not going to step over it. Listen, the worst that can happen is you wind up right back here in LA looking for your next acting job. Even then, you'll get paid for a doing a lead role for six months, all expenses covered. And you'll have had one hell of an experience."
She sat there in silence for a couple of minutes. Finally she shook her head almost in disgust. "I'll probably kick myself for this, but yes, I'm interested."
He grinned, but she wasn't finished.
"But I'm not agreeing to anything without knowing a whole lot more about it."
"That's totally fair - I wouldn't expect you to. But, before I give you any details, you're going to need to sign a non-disclosure agreement. From now on, anything I tell you is strictly confidential, and if you violate that, I'll come down hard on you."
"You're not scaring me, Marcus. I've had to sign confidentiality agreements before."
With that he rolled his chair over to his desk, picked up the agreement and brought it back to her. She read it over carefully, then asked for a pen. After she'd signed, he put the agreement in her folder and stood up. "Okay, follow me."
He led her across the hall through a different door that opened into a large conference room. On one wall was a set of photographs; he took her over to them.
She saw a photo of a very attractive woman approximately her own age. Next to the woman was a shot of a man who appeared to be a few years older. Both were well groomed and dressed in expensive clothing.
"Meet Cassandra Simmons, who also uses the aliases Emma Blackstone and Lorelei Hamilton. She's 29 years old, but looks at least five years younger. The gentleman next to her is Stephen Benedict, aka Samuel Blackstone and Robert Hamilton. He is a very fit 36 years old. Together, they form one of the most cunning teams of con artists now in operation."
He passed her a sheet of paper.
"Here's a list of cons they're suspected of running over the past ten years. As you look at it, you'll see a pattern emerging. They started out as mere pickpockets, but quickly moved on. One or the other would romance a vulnerable target, seduce him or her, then make off with all the victim's funds they could lay their hands on. Early on the deal was little more than robbery: seduce a lonely/horny member of the opposite sex, then empty the victim's wallet or purse after a night of passion.
"From there they graduated to more elaborate cons: gaining access to bank accounts and plundering them before disappearing. Often the victims were slow to report the crime because they couldn't believe their lover was a thief.
"Most recently they've stepped it up to more elaborate cons. Over a period of months they romance their target and marry them. When the time is ripe, they not only clean out the shared bank accounts but take out credit card loans and second mortgages before absconding. One poor female victim was forced to declare bankruptcy."
He sat down beside her and pointed to the last item on the list. "But the risks with that sort of con multiply. Because long cons are expensive, they were forced to target wealthier victims. But such people are a riskier proposition. A suspicious relative, a watchful bank employee or even a victim who asks too many questions can jeopardize the whole game. They were almost caught four years ago in Chicago, and that's when we think they switched to a new modus operandi.
"Two and a half years ago, Cassandra seduced a young, successful software designer in Silicon Valley. She swept him off his feet and enticed him to propose so quickly that he failed to take any precautions like a pre-nuptial agreement to protect his assets. Shortly after the honeymoon, she went out of town and Benedict, her partner, got the poor guy drunk and sicced a prostitute on him. When Cassandra burst in on the two of them in bed, there was nothing he could do or say. An expedited divorce netted them half the poor schmuck's assets, and it was all legal - though hardly ethical."
