But the heirs, who had additionally been told that their American uncle was a billionaire and had left no direct descendants, could no longer be disconcerted by anything. All the German Lemkes unanimously began transferring money to Ireland in hopes of soon becoming rich, but the executors of the overseas uncle’s will for some reason were in no hurry. Having realized that they had been duped, the most suspicious of the Lemkes turned to the police, but the money had already vanished without a trace. The fraudsters acted according to the classic scheme known under the code name “14 thousand cousins.”
A similar scam is regularly pulled off in various countries. The story that gave its name to this type of fraud happened quite a long time ago with 14 thousand Frenchmen bearing the surname Mallet. It all began in 1961 when a brisk pensioner, Gisèle Huby, who pretended to be the widow of the Emir of Turkestan, spread the news about a certain Joseph-Pierre Mallet, who had gone to America at the beginning of the 19th century and become a millionaire. He died without leaving heirs, and therefore all bearers of the surname Mallet could lay claim to the overseas millions. True, to prove their rights, time and money would be needed. However, not much.
The energetic old lady managed to create a “Mallet syndicate,” each member of which transferred 10 francs to her monthly. An insignificant sum, but multiplied by 14,817 — exactly that many “heirs” there turned out to be — it represented a decent regular jackpot. Moreover, the scam lasted more than five years.
French-style scam
Victor Lustig stopped only at the best hotels in every city. This time he chose the “Crillon” in Paris. The imposing gentleman who had arrived from across the ocean spent his time in the French capital very fruitfully: he visited cabarets and restaurants, gambled at casinos. Soon the money ran out, and it was time to get down to more serious matters. One morning, while browsing the newspaper, Victor saw a small article titled “Will the Eiffel Tower Be Sold?” The journalist talked about the problems of the Paris city hall, which had no funds for repairing France’s main attraction. A brilliant idea was born in Monsieur Lustig immediately.
Two days later, five representatives of the largest firms specializing in the purchase and processing of scrap metal in the Paris area gathered that morning in one of the ornate salons of the “Crillon.” Courteous waiters served guests cocktails. Finally, Victor Lustig appeared with a Legion of Honor rosette in his buttonhole: “The President of the Republic and the Mayor of Paris have authorized me to address you with a proposal that must remain strictly confidential. You all certainly know about the material problems of the capital’s city hall.” In short, the scrap buyers were explained that the Eiffel Tower was put up for sale: seven thousand tons of steel would go to whoever offered the highest price for this pile of scrap metal. Noticing distrust in the eyes of the victims, the swindler commanded: “The city hall has sent a car for you.” At the foot of the Eiffel Tower, the fraudster showed the cashier a fake city hall ID: “These gentlemen are with me!” All six were let through to the elevator as highly honored guests.
A week later, Victor Lustig received the first offer: the tower was ready to buy a certain Poisson, head of the firm of the same name. History does not know for how much he agreed to acquire the creation of Alexandre Gustave Eiffel, but that sum had many zeros. The deal was concluded very quickly. When it became clear that the Eiffel Tower still had to stand and stand, it was already too late to catch the swindler. However, the deceived businessman never decided to file a court complaint - he was afraid of becoming a universal laughingstock.
British-style scam
The plane from Canberra had just landed. John Goldbright stood in the crowd of greeters and, with a sinking heart, waited for Her appearance. John took out a photograph and began to peer into faces impatiently. Of course, he would recognize dear Jane, although he had never seen her: they had become acquainted by correspondence after John read a newspaper ad saying that “a young, pretty lady from Australia is ready to link her life with a modest British gentleman.” In three months they had managed to become truly close people, and his joy knew no bounds when Jane agreed to come to London. True, she, a student, did not have enough funds for such a distant trip, but John considered it a happiness to pay for a first-class flight.
However, the first-class passengers passed, then business class, economy class... But the blonde beauty Jane was still not there. And then John caught himself on a strange thought: in most of the men remaining standing nearby, there was something elusively similar to him. He looked closely and discovered that all of them - including him - were dressed in the same manner: in a gray suit and light shirt, with a crimson carnation in the buttonhole, and moreover each held a hat in his left hand. That was exactly how he was supposed to be dressed according to the agreement with Jane...
They arrived at the police station of London airport in a whole crowd: almost a hundred grooms of the virtual Australian woman! Each of them had met Jane exactly the same way as John Goldbright. And each had sent the blonde bride across the ocean a tidy sum in pounds sterling, supposedly necessary for her air ticket to London. Everything else is less interesting. But something else is curious: Scotland Yard and its Australian colleagues did eventually manage to catch the guilty woman in the never-held celebration. Or rather, the guilty man. For the role of the beautiful Jane was played by a man - an Italian emigrant who had earned good money on the matrimonial itch of lonely Englishmen.
Belgian-style scam
In one of Antwerp's most prestigious jewelry shops, an elderly man with an expensive cigar appeared: “My wife is tired of diamonds, and I would like to give her a pearl ornament.” The salesman perked up. And when a magnificent pink pearl, shaped like a large frozen drop, appeared on the velvet table, the visitor asked the price. The jeweler named an enormous figure. The buyer not only didn't flinch, but asked to see another pearl exactly like it: the lady would like to have a pair of earrings. The salesman hedged: “That will be difficult. Such pearls are very rare.” But the client insisted.
After paying in cash, the client left, and the jewelers rushed to search. The deadline set by the demanding client was inexorably approaching, but the precious item was still not found. Moreover, the client called repeatedly and was worried.
And then finally in Paris they found almost the same one. A pearl of rare beauty was sent to Antwerp by a special courier. When the Belgian jewelers saw it, they clutched their hearts: it resembled the first one like two drops of water. True, the Parisian misers asked double the price for the twin pearl, and only in cash. But is that a problem when the client is ready for any expense?... However, at the appointed time the buyer did not appear, nor did he come later. The jeweler, sensing something wrong, called the number left by the client. A dull male voice was heard on the line: “A pearl? For my wife? Are you mocking me...” The old owner of an Antwerp jewelry firm had seemingly seen everything, but until that day no one had ever sold him his own pearl at double the price.
French-style scam-2
The call was sharp and authoritative: “Hello, jewelry firm Delmo? This is the Elysée Palace speaking, the personal secretary of the President of the Republic, Dumoulin des Aigrettes. I am calling on behalf of the president, who would like to give a Christmas gift to the female half of his family... Could you send samples to the presidential residence – say, the latest models of your collection. Which ones? Diamond bracelets, necklaces, pendants, brooches... Of course, everything will be in perfect order. You only need to hand the collection over to the officer on duty at the Elysée Palace. Excellent! We await you at 4:00 PM, and at 6:00 PM the samples will be returned to you.”
The necessary collection was immediately assembled and sent to the Elysée Palace. There the republican guards from the security were surprised, but just in case, until circumstances were clarified, they accepted the pendants and necklaces and kept them. Less than half an hour later, an expensive car with a chauffeur in livery appeared at the gates of the presidential residence, from which a portly little man in a hat and kid gloves stepped out: “I am Louis-Armand Delmo, owner of the jewelry shop Delmo. Here are my documents...” The jeweler explained that his clerk, who had taken the order from the president's secretary, had put completely different jewelry in the boxes than those the president's assistant had mentioned. The mistake would be corrected immediately. In this regard, Monsieur Delmo would like to take the collection back and personally bring a new one instead... Why not? And the guards gave back everything they had. The little man ordered the chauffeur to move the boxes into the car and drove off along Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré toward Place Vendôme.
True, he only drove a hundred meters. At the very first intersection, the luxurious car was stopped by the police. An extremely rare case: the swindler outwitted himself! If the villain had ordered only a few pieces of jewelry from Delmo, no suspicion would have arisen. But the longer the list of items allegedly ordered from the Elysée Palace became, the more suspicious everything seemed to the store manager taking the order. It ended with the jewelers calling the office of the President of the Republic and checking the authenticity of the call. The matter was handed over to the security service, and everything else turned out to be a matter of technique. As for the boxes that the guards had given to the pseudo-jeweler, they were empty.
Italian-style scam
Signora Falzetti finally made up her mind: she placed an ad for the sale of an antique Florentine chest of drawers. The piece was, of course, beautiful, but now the chest of drawers did not match the rest of the furniture at all. Three days later, the phone rang in the Falzetti home. A pleasant male voice asked when it would be possible to see the chest. After agreeing on the day and time of the meeting, the stranger asked whether he could come not alone, but with his art expert appraiser. The answer was affirmative. Soon two gentlemen were meticulously examining the chest. Then they asked for two days to think it over.
Two hours later, a new phone call came. It was a men's clothing merchant from a central street in Milan. Fumbling his words, he said that only recently two elegant men had been in his shop and had tried to pay for goods with a credit card issued in the name of Falzetti, and asked the signora to check whether her credit card had been stolen. The flustered lady gasped and reached into her handbag, where, of course, the card was missing. The antique furniture lovers had actually turned out to be skillful thieves. “I don't know how to thank you!” the signora said, touched. “I will now urgently call the bank center to block stolen cards.” “Of course!” the honest merchant supported her. “By the way, I just happen to have the number of that center at hand. Write it down...”
A businesslike, stern woman picked up the phone: "Bank card service speaking." Signora Falzetti, not at all alarmed by the noise of car horns coming from the other end of the line, said that she wanted to report the loss of her card and suspend all transactions involving it. After asking for the card number and the bank that issued it, the "duty officer" also wrote down the victim's address and surname, and in the meantime asked: "And what is your PIN code? It also needs to be provided to fully block the card." The signora knew the confidential number by heart; taking precautions, she never wrote it down anywhere, so she easily dictated it from memory. When a week later she received a statement of her bank account, she could not believe her eyes. Over the past few days, a substantial sum had been withdrawn from her bank account via ATMs. At the bank, they assured her that no suspension of transactions had been reported to them... At the police station, they listened to her story without much surprise, then asked for the phone number of the "stolen card blocking center" reported by the merchant, and easily figured out that it was installed in a phone booth nearest to the signora's home...