The Philistine Scam
25 Jan 2021JB Threepwood
I sat on my bunk aboard The Cuckoo, drinking from a bottle of rum, as I thought back to the news I'd read recently; Rocco, the old grifter that took me under his wing back when I was a teen and young adult, had been found dead.I've wallowed in my own solitude for so long that I'd forgotten how much I missed having that sort of father figure... even if he was a swindling old shite.
I looked along my shelf of counterfeit books until I found an old New King James Version Bible. We had used this version as our code book. The system was a pretty basic way to send coded messages, i.e. sets of three numbers... 11-34-9... page, line, word... then just find any standard copy of the book to decipher it. But, also, I remembered the old bible seller scam we used to run.
*****
The grift started in a pub, with a good deal of regulars and a pool table. I was a good pool player. I used to hustle at pool but the point of this scam was just to be good enough to win the punters' money off them regularly. I'd been steadily taking money off them all day whilst drinking... and acting more and more of an arsehole.
The whole point was to make the punters dislike me whilst also having them know that I had money. Just before 8pm I got extra cocky, acted extra drunk and lost a big chunk of cash to one of the punters. It was only some of their own money back but, in their minds, I was defeated and they now had the upper hand.
This was the point at which I'd retire to the bar, frustrating them that I wasn't giving them the chance to win the rest of their money back.
Just after 8pm was Rocco's time to turn up.
He was a little on the short side and carried a couple of extra pounds but was a handsome sixty-something nonetheless. His curly black hair was turning grey, putting enough salt in the pepper to give him a distinguished look.
Rocco walked into the bar, in his priest's suit and carrying his case of Bibles. Drawing a little attention from the regulars as he headed towards the barman.
"A small sherry, my son, just enough to keep out the cold." Standard opening. Give a reason for a man of the cloth to frequent a bar.
"Been busy, Father?" The barman would ask... knee jerk question for a publican. The trick was that Rocco knew that smiling and looking like he wanted to start a conversation would be enough to get the ball rolling.
Rocco would tell them about his day, selling bibles and spreading the good word... talking loudly to attract the attention of the rest of the bar.
He was a charming old sod and talked enthusiastically about the story of Christ turning water into wine... drawing the regulars further in.
"What about our friend here?" Rocco shouted over to me at the other end of the bar, drawing me into the conversation. It was important that I didn't shoehorn myself into the conversation. "You're looking glum, son!"
"Meh," I shrugged, "I was doing ok at pool but just lost a wad."
A couple of the regulars, starved of entertainment, were now looking over.
Rocco turned to the room, shaking his hand whilst miming having a drink, to symbolise drinking too much. He was answered with a round of nodding heads.
This part was important, it put him on the regulars' side.
"Ahh... the old love of the bottle. It's not a trustworthy lover and will sap your strength... a couple of drinks with friends is good..." Rocco announced, gesturing to the clientele, further ingratiating him with the marks. "...but it looks like your Delilah has cut your hair and left Samson without his powers."
Rocco's showmanship was bringing the rest of the crowd in.
I looked up from my beer at Rocco.
"It wasn't Delilah that cut Samson's hair... you're getting mixed up, old man."
Rocco would turn in mock horror to his forming crowd.
"Pardon me, young man, but I'm sure the good book would say otherwise." Rocco reached into his case and pulled out one of the Bibles... waving it to the rest of the pub.
"Whatever, Grandad, I know I'm right."
The rest of the pub, further furious at me for insulting a vicar, were now on Rocco's side. Insulting me for not knowing a fairly well known Bible story. It needed their aggression and insults to justify my retaliation...
"You lot can fuck off, I'll put money on it that I'm right."
Now that bit's important, they were all hoping to win their money back off the arsehole that had beaten them at pool first. Now that I was drunk (and, already, being drunk had caused me to lose at the table) they saw it as an easy way to do me over.
"I've got 4 grand of your lot's money on this slate," that bit was just to antagonise them, "I bet you fuckers that Delilah didn't cut Samson's hair."
With a billowing laugh, Rocco looked to the rest of his new congregation.
"Pride comes before a fall, my son."
With such an easy way to win their money back off a drunk, the marks all started working out their share of the bet, some even borrowing off each other, not wanting to miss out on this safe bet.
Once all the rest of the punters had put another 4,000 credits on the credit-stick, they passed it to Rocco, the trusted old vicar and would-be expert on all things Christian.
I sat up straight on my stool and slurred, "Judges 16:19... Then she lulled him to sleep on her knees, and called for a man and had him shave off the seven locks of his head. Then she began to torment him, and his strength left him... yeah...she had some other mush shave his head" I then sank the rest of my beer and outstretched my hand for the credit stick.
In fake confusion, Rocco started flicking through the Bible... some of the marks went into Rocco's case and scoured through Bibles themselves, the rest started checking it on their Comms Units.
I was right, of course... that was the scam.
Once they all realised I was right it was time to flip the narrative so I could get out trouble free.
"You should've paid more attention at Sunday school, guys... and, Father, if you're going to flog these things you should give them a read once in a while."
Now they were the bad guys for not knowing something that a drunk arsehole knew and that they, unlike the drunk arsehole, didn't go to Sunday School.
Rocco passed me the credit stick and I left, shaking my head on the way out.
Rocco would hang around for one more drink whilst they all slagged me off.
I took the money to Rocco's apartment for The Chop.
*****
I sat looking at the old Bible then put it back on the shelf. Even though it was our code book I'd never actually read the thing.
Rocco may've been a crooked old snake but I missed the left-handed bastard.
I took another long slug of rum and looked for a book to read.