The Play

The idea was not unlike a blonde in Vegas: simple and expensive. All DC needed to do was to put together a portfolio of sexy software patents and sell the company for fifty million without having to write a line of code.

To do this he needed a team, total secrecy and, most importantly enough money to build both the patent portfolio and the illusion of a company that would be worth fifty million.

The team was the easy part. My old friend and new boss, DC, had pulled off the same con in the same city and there were still enough people about that were unaware of the devious nature of his previous success. It was vital that these dupes were kept in the dark. I couldn't see a thing.

The seed money was another story.

DC, appeared to be under the impression that his previous con would be simple to reproduce and he was, therefore, quite happy to have his closest friends and family members invest. He was, after all, doing them a favor by bringing them in on the ground floor and there was no question of their quintupling their investment in less than a year (well, eighteen months... tops). His family, and this has become a real issue for the blighter, put in much more than they could afford to lose.

Had DC been a Mamet fan he would have known that you never risk your own hard scammed dough. He wasn't a Mamet fan and he did. Why not? It made perfect sense and was sure to give future investors great confidence. After all, that is what he was selling, wasn't it? He sunk what was left of the profits from his previous cozenage into the latest.

It was enough to convince me; he was risking his future, why shouldn't I?

Besides I was not being asked to invest a dime. All I was being asked to do is liaise with clients (easy, there weren't any) for a year or so and my one percent would be worth a cool half a million.