The Classic Con
CHARLIE Wainwright is quite pleased with himself.
He’s driving an Alfa Romeo sports car along a coastal road in southern Spain.
The car he’s driving is worth millions, but the woman seated next to him is priceless. She’s the most stunning creature Charlie has ever seen, let alone been seen with. Long blonde hair flows out behind her perfect features, tugged gently by fingers of a breeze drifting in the slipstream of the classic car.
Her name is Ulrike and she’s Danish.
He’d bumped into her in a small hotel in Requena, which is inland from Valencia, and he still can’t believe his luck. Charlie has never been shy where women are concerned. In fact, pushing modesty aside, he’s always considered himself a bit of a ladies’ man.
Charlie is quite good-looking in a flashy sort of way – white loafers (imitation Gucci of course), gold watch and chains around the neck.
But as he steals a sideways glance at his companion, Ulrike is something else, Charlie thinks. She
