Page 9 of Catching a Con Man

“Would you like to come and see another charity initiative that’s really close to my heart?” he asked.

“Lead the way.”

“Great, we’ll take my car. We can talk business on the way.” Ade placed one hand on the small of my back to direct me down St Mary Street, toward one of town’s car parks. Once we got there, Ade led me to what could only be described as a cross between a spaceship and a car, all sleek angles and fancy LED headlights, painted gunmetal grey. I started chugging down my coffee as we approached. I spluttered as the hot coffee burned my tongue.

“Woah, slow down soldier,” Ade said. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Don’t…want…to drink in the…car,” I coughed, then managed to get my breathing under control again. “Nice seats.”

Ade laughed. “I own the factory that makes these cars. I don’t think we’ve got any issue with getting a bit of coffee on the seats. If the coffee won’t come out, I’ll just replace the car.”

“Of…of course,” I said. “That makes…perfect sense.”

And in some fucked up way, it did. I remembered that Ade owned Electro, the electric car company that was butting up against the valuation of his father’s business by now.

“This model isn’t in production yet,” said Ade as we slid into an interior that was already chilled. “They cost about two-hundred thousand just to manufacture, so I’m trying to find ways to bring costs down. You should see the family models we’ve got coming, we think we might be able to make them for less than the cheapest petrol car on the market. There could be millions more people able to afford a car in a couple of years if we do what I think we can.”

He pressed a button to start the car. There was no sputtering engine, no awkward moment of waiting to see if we’d actually make it out of the parking space. Just a low hum as the lights in the car dimmed and a screen across the dashboard illuminated.

I sat in awe as Ade pulled out of the parking space and gunned the car along the straight in the car park. My head hit the back of the seat as we accelerated, and the car stopped smoothly as we came up to a barrier. “God, she’s good,” he said. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of cars. What’s your preferred drive?”

“Uh…an…Aston Martin?” I tried.

“Oh cool, what type?” Ade looked to me as he pulled out of the car park and onto the main road, towards Cardiff Bay.

“The…DB5,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. One of my foster homes had had James Bond films on repeat, and I was sure that one had been mentioned.

“Oh, a vintage car lover,” said Ade. “Just let me know if you ever fancy a drive of one of mine and I can loan it to you free of charge. So long as you’ve got a gated entry to whichever estate you’re staying on, of course. These beauties can’t just be parked out on the street.”

“Of…” fucking hell, he really was making assumptions. Not that I hadn’t encouraged those. “I’ll talk to my driver. See if he’s comfortable going electric.”

“Great! Now, tell me more about this philanthropic business idea. Have you got a business plan marked out yet?”

“I’m more at the planning and development stage,” I said. This bit was easy. This I’d rehearsed to talk tohis fatherabout. “I want to see if there’s any proof in the concept before I draw up any formal plans.”

Ade smiled. “Of course, though, I’d love to see some paperwork before either Electro or Crane Corporation makes any decisions. You see, things are prone to get messy.”

“What’s a couple of million between friends?” I joked.

Ade didn’t seem to see the funny side. “You’re right. I’ll talk to my father tomorrow, maybe we just need to jump in feet first. Whatisa couple of million between friends?”

I swallowed through the lump in my throat. Luckily, I was saved from having to decide on my response by Ade flicking on the indicator and pulling into a car park in front of an unassuming redbrick building. We were in a less affluent part of Cardiff Bay, hidden by an overhead bridge, and next to the old industrial area. As soon as we stepped outside of the car’s soundproofed cabin I could hear dogs barking.

“Welcome to the Crane Foundation’s dog rescue centre,” said Ade. “My father set it up decades ago as an anniversary gift to my mother. Both his foundation and my company pay equally to keep it going. It’s a deep money sink but…well, you’ll see. It would pain me to ever let this place go.”

He opened the door and once again gestured for me to go first. I wasn’t sure if I loved the chivalry or if it was getting on my nerves at this rate.

“Are you always this polite?” I asked him.

“Only to my good friends,” he said. “I can be a real shark in the boardroom.”

“I’d like to see that,” I smiled.

“It can be arranged.”

The reception was clean, if a little run down. The sound of dogs barking was louder in here than it was outside. Ade stepped forward and tapped a little buzzer on the reception, and for a second nothing happened. Then a massive hulk of a man with blonde hair pushed through the door behind reception with his back to us, a huge Rottweiler in a face cone in tow.

“Coming, coming! Sorry, Alfie hasn’t long had his nuts crushed and he’s getting really…” he turned to face us, and his face dropped. The Rottweiler put his paws up on the reception counter. “…needy. Sorry, Addison. How can I be of assistance today?”

---