The Ferrari was new. That was the problem. Normally, Gerry, 71, programmes the passenger doors of his Ferraris to lock when he is in the driver's seat for safety reasons. But he had only owned the 458 Italia for a few days and he hadn't set it up properly.
It was a Sunday morning in May and it was one of his first outings in it. Gerry and six of his friends had driven in "a number of high-value cars" to meet for a light breakfast. It was their weekend ritual. That day their destination was the Goodwood Kennels in West Sussex, a private clubhouse on the South Downs, and the weather was glorious.
After their coffees, at about 10.30am, Gerry walked back to the car and lowered himself into the driver's seat. It was the perfect morning to take the roof off, so he fired up the engine, clicked the button and waited for the roof to come down while his friend Peter reversed his Porsche out of the space next to him and drove away. In Peter's place appeared a woman. She was young, in her twenties, leaning down into Gerry's car from the passenger side through the open roof, proffering a clipboard. She said it was a campaign for deaf and blind people and she wanted him to sign it.
"To my surprise," Gerry says, "she opened the passenger door" — the automatic lock function was not on — "and started this performance of pleading with me to sign the paper. She grabs hold of both my hands, literally throwing herself on top of me. While I was trying to push her away, without me realising she released the clasp on the watch." It was a Rolex Submariner — mixed gold. Worth about £15,000 (NZ$30,249).
After about 10 seconds he managed to push her off and out of the passenger door, and straight away she got into a nearby car. That was odd, Gerry thought. "But I needed to get off after the other guys and catch them up, so I drove out of the car park and after about 100 yards I thought, 'My left wrist doesn't feel quite as heavy as it should.' I looked down and the watch was gone."
Gerry had fallen victim to the "Rolex Rippers": well-dressed young women with European accents, operating singly or in pairs, who are targeting older men for high-value watches, mainly Rolexes.
In the past year there have been more than 60 near-identical incidents, though the exact number is unknown. The women tend to strike in the middle of the day outside golf courses or supermarkets and in affluent high streets in Dorset, Hampshire, Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, Surrey and Sussex.
They often pretend they are collecting signatures on a clipboard for a charity and often wear surgical Covid masks — which conveniently hide their identity. They offer a hug, a kiss, even sex, throwing themselves on the man, who goes from being relaxed to flattered to embarrassed. Amid all the fluster and confusion they unclip his expensive watch. Most of the men don't realise their timepiece is gone until the women have disappeared.
It's unclear whether the same two women are responsible for all the thefts or whether they are part of a wider gang. In November Surrey police warned that such incidents may be "part of a national series being committed by an organised crime group". It could even be a gang with international reach: similar thefts have plagued Spain, in particular Barcelona, Malaga and Ibiza, where last year Europol arrested 42 Romanian suspected thieves, recovering 66 luxury watches, including 25 Rolexes.
In the UK the Rolex Rippers are likely to have stolen more than half a million pounds' worth of watches in the past year. Their success is helped by the booming preowned market. Rolexes are now so sought-after and the supply so limited that new ones are difficult to get hold of. As a result some second-hand watches have doubled, perhaps even tripled in value.
Ideal crook's currency
A Rolex is the ideal crook's currency. It retains its value wherever it is in the world, can be transported over borders on someone's wrist and, with the help of social media, is easily shifted to customers so desperate to get their hands on a blingy timepiece that they are willing to deal with dodgy sellers.
The retired businessman Robin Haycock, 75, had just played a round at Ferndown Golf Club in Dorset. It was midday on a Wednesday in July and he was driving his buggy to his car to drop off his kit. A woman in a dark dress and dark glasses approached him.
"Having been a past captain, past chairman and a trustee of Ferndown, I thought she was a new member coming over to introduce herself," he says. "She said, 'Hello, nice to see you again,' and the next thing I know her face is right in my face, two hands around my left arm and she wrenches the watch off, catching my little finger, and she was gone. Leapt into the back of a black Ford Focus, disappeared."
The police traced the numberplates to an address in Hampshire, but the plates were false. From what Haycock understands there were no further leads. Dorset police say they have assigned a dedicated officer, who is looking into a series of similar thefts, but can share no further information. There have been at least 15 cases reported in the county.
"Ferndown is one of the most prestigious golf clubs on the south coast," says Haycock. "It's a £2000-plus-a-year club, more than 100 years old. I'm not the only one here to wear a Rolex. In the past there has been the odd golf club stolen, an incident of youths damaging some buggies overnight. But you wouldn't expect this sort of thing."
Until then Haycock had never been the victim of an attack — and he had certainly never felt vulnerable to one. "When you've had nothing really happen to you in all your life and it happens you suddenly feel . . . It shook me up. I was a bit jumpy, a bit insecure, didn't sleep very well for a few days." He doesn't want to buy another Rolex, he says. "I don't like the thought of someone trying to attack me for one."
Haycock was wearing a Rolex Daytona, one of the most desired models, which he had bought for £7500. On the preowned market they are generally selling for between £20,000 and £30,000.
Today more than ever watches are a show of status, one of the few bits of "masculine" jewellery a bloke in a suit can wear. Rolexes, in particular, are so heavily branded that they are immediately recognisable and so too is their value. High-end watches are all over YouTube and Instagram — there are thousands of watch influencers — and there is a whole section dedicated to the watch market on the GQ website.
"Now there is a lot of young money, a lot of media attention, people are thinking if I make money I want to buy a watch," says David Khalil, a dealer at Watch Collectors in Mayfair. "As a brand, Rolex is king. You can be anywhere in the world and have one on your wrist and you can cash it out. Cryptocurrencies, for example, are highly speculative. If you want to retain your money in something that is tangible and stable: a Rolex."
The watch company was founded in London in 1905 by Hans Wilsdorf, who chose the name Rolex because it sounded expensive and was easy to pronounce. After the First World War Rolex moved operations to Geneva and today it is owned by the Hans Wilsdorf Foundation, estimated to be worth about £7 billion. Approximately one million watches are produced by hand each year at four industrial facilities in Switzerland. Demand certainly outstrips supply.
"The reality is," says Luke Stafford, a watch specialist at the Charles Fish chain of jewellery shops, "if you want a new [Rolex] Daytona in the current market, and you walk into a Rolex dealership as Joe Bloggs with no spending history with them, they're going to laugh you out the door. You're not going to get one."
As a result the preowned market is booming — making high-end watches the perfect target for crime.
'I didn't look like a man of means'
In hindsight, says Peter, 75, the Waitrose car park at Wimborne Minster, Dorset, has an ideal escape route. There are steps that lead down into the town centre — handy if you're looking for a speedy getaway on foot.
It was Monday, May 10, last year and he was meeting a friend for lunch. "On my way I thought I'd just pop into the shop." He bought a few items and returned to his car. "I normally drive what I call a high-value BMW, but I've got racehorses, so on that day I was driving a scruffy Ford Fiesta that is years old. I certainly didn't look like a man of means."
He was approached by "two eastern European ladies, very pleasant girls, good looking". They asked him to sign a form for their charity, which he did. "Then they started to get tactile and while one of them was holding my hand saying, 'Oh yes, it's so kind of you,' the other suddenly started to hold my sleeve. I didn't think anything of it, but they talked so quickly and constantly, so I was totally engaged. In the meantime the one girl ran her hand down my arm and unclasped the watch. Simple as that. It's so quick you don't notice."
The last thing he was thinking about was his Patek Philippe Annual Calendar watch, yellow gold case on a brown leather strap, which he bought for £14,500. They sell on the second-hand market for between £20,000 and £45,000, sometimes even more. "It's not like these big chunky Rolexes; I've got one of those and you can recognise it from a mile away. These, from a distance, look conventional, unremarkable."
Peter used to work in the City and, with no children or family, he will leave most of his money to a local hospice. For now, though, watches are his passion — he has a history in engineering. He understands why some people think it's extravagant, but he likes them. He hasn't really told his friends about the mugging, perhaps, he says, because he is a bit embarrassed.
"My instant reaction was, how the hell did I let that happen? Stupid. You kick yourself. How on earth could I have fallen for it? If you live in [a city], you're always on your guard, but I didn't expect this to happen in Dorset. Maybe that's why they're doing it here."
The police registered it as an offence but he hasn't heard anything since. "And, sod's law, Waitrose's CCTV was shut down."
Pickpockets' playbook
The easiest victims are the ones who say, "It would never happen to me," says James Freedman, a magician and theatrical pickpocket. Not many men, he says, see themselves as being vulnerable when they are in public spaces. "I've never been the victim of a pickpocket but I know I could be. That's what protects me."
First the criminal must identify their target, who should be relaxed, with their guard down. It makes sense that the Rolex Rippers choose people who are in their home towns midmorning or leaving their club after a round of golf. Then they need physical closeness. "If a 50-year-old bruiser bloke approaches you with a clipboard, you would be a lot more suspicious and they wouldn't have been able to get so close," Freedman says. "So the thieves being female is part of it."
Next comes the distraction. "Magicians call it misdirecting. You want to overload the victim with confusion so they're thinking, what the hell is going on? Then they're not thinking about their valuables. And if a girl in her twenties is throwing herself at you and she's shouting 'sex', you are embarrassed, which distracts you even more. You're looking around to see if people are watching."
Finally you need a prop: the clipboard. "It's a shield. So they can take the watch without you seeing."
The man who taught Freedman how to pick pockets looked like a "Mayfair gent". He wore handmade suits and shoes and his shield was a copy of the Financial Times. No one looked twice at him in Knightsbridge, the patch where he worked his whole life as a career criminal.
A Rolex watch looks difficult to unfasten: you have to undo a main clasp, then an overlapping security clasp and slip the whole thing off the hand. "But that just leads to a false sense of security because people feel that no one can steal this. And that leads to complacency," Freedman says. "I could teach you the technique behind stealing a Rolex in an hour, but it's more about choreography and understanding the victim's mindset. And that takes much longer to learn."
'I thought she'd gone mad'
It was a weekday morning in July and Michael Parry, 84, had just been shopping at his local supermarket in Bourton-on-the-Water, a Cotswold town so picturesque it is the punchline of middle-class jokes. "I may be a bit old," Parry says, "but I can assure you I'm not in any way doddery. I can fly aeroplanes and still do. I can drive fast cars and still do."
As Parry was getting into his car a young woman approached him in a surgical mask and baseball cap, a second woman behind her. He signed their charity petition and handed it back when suddenly "she started yelling at the top of her voice this one word", Parry says. He lowers his voice. "Sex. Sex, sex, sex. And launched herself at me. I thought she'd gone mad or she was having a fit or something. It was so unexpected. She was pressing her body against mine, arms around me, scratching at both my arms. That was the way it worked. You wouldn't come to assist me; you'd come to assist her. It looked like I was attacking her."
It wasn't until the women had disappeared in a getaway car, parked a few yards away, that he realised his Rolex GMT Master (about £20,000) was gone. "I didn't have it fully insured on the basis that I don't go to the sort of places where I am going to get it stolen," he says. "I was completely taken aback by this incredible change from a sweet young girl into a raving lunatic."
The whole thing was caught on CCTV. He says the police tracked the numberplates but again they were false. Wherever the women went and whoever they were, he says, he is convinced it was a planned attack. Gloucestershire police made a public appeal for information about the theft but declined to comment further.
The day before, two Rolexes were stolen in Hampshire within the space of four hours, one from a 77-year-old man and another from an 86-year-old man. In fact, in the 10-day period between July 7 and July 17, which includes Parry's incident, there were eight high-value watch thefts with the same modus operandi.
It is likely the women are part of an organised gang. In Spain police tracking Rolex Rippers there noted the thieves would typically stay in an area for about five days, operating in the surrounding towns, then moving on.
On-selling stolen watches
What happens to the stolen watches remains unclear. All Rolexes have a unique serial number. If your watch is stolen you can report it to the Watch Register, an organisation that tracks watches. When a legitimate dealer is offered a preowned watch, they can run the serial number through the register's database. If it is stolen, it comes up on the system and is reported to the police. The register says it recovers about two to three lost or stolen watches each day.
Criminals can try to get around this, though. To avoid coming up on the register, some of the stolen Rolexes will be immediately renumbered, one dealer tells me. The unique serial number is erased and a new one is applied. Other times it might be dismantled and sold for parts or put back together, half real and half fake, like a cut-and-shut car.
Despite such ruses, stolen watches are usually difficult to sell via a legitimate jeweller. But these days there are other ways for crooks to cash in. Instagram, Facebook and WhatsApp are full of unqualified individuals trading high-value preowned Rolexes. Often it is difficult to find an address or a company behind these pages. Customers may be so desperate to get their hands on a Rolex they are willing to overlook shoddy practice. Other times watches will be sent immediately to eastern Europe or the Middle East, where the Watch Register is less established and customers do not expect the same checks.
"Some [dealers] don't bother using our register because they don't want to pay the money [to be a member]," says Katya Hills, the managing director of Watch Register. "Others don't want to know about the problem if it's a stolen watch." It's a trade where transactions are often fast-paced and in cash, Hills says, which makes it hard to track stolen items.
Alan Bruce, 63, has no idea where his Rolex is. He was in his local town of Wimborne, Dorset, for an eye test, but he was a little early, so decided to look round some clothes shops. "I like to keep myself trim. I like to think I dress well," he says. "I had my watch on, I had aftershave on. Just because you're a bit older doesn't mean you can't be presentable."
Two women approached him with a clipboard, one making out she was deaf, asking him to sign a petition for a local deaf centre. The women were flirtatious and said they were from Bulgaria, chatting about what life was like there and the charity they were raising awareness for.
"The younger out of the two — they had masks on — said, 'Oh, you smell so nice, what's your aftershave?' And I said, 'Tom Ford,' and she said, 'Give me a hug, give me a cuddle,' and I said, 'No way! Get away.' " He put his left arm out to fend her off, but she grabbed his body and pulled him into her, tight. "The other one comes in behind and says, 'You smell so nice. I want to have sex with you.' Of course that was when I realised something wasn't right."
When they disappeared he checked for his wallet and his phone — they were both there. He was in shock. Moments later he realised he had been "dipped" for his watch. "I did not feel a thing," he says.
The National Police Chiefs Council has no specific intelligence on the 60-plus Rolex Ripper attacks, but offers general advice: "Distraction techniques such as this are often employed by pickpockets and opportunistic thieves to steal valuables from unsuspecting victims."
Women are targeting victims who do not think of themselves as being victims, in places where they feel totally safe. It is daylight robbery — and that is why it works.
"This was a professional operation," Bruce says. "They were good. They were really good."
Written by: Megan Agnew
© The Times of London
