Hello, Mystery Ladies

The other night we were just kicking back in the backyard, just shooting the breeze after a successful day's Unbelievable-ness, when we heard the all-too-familiar sound of female chatter and giggling from beyond the perimeter fence.

Of course, we Unbelievables are used to female attention - when you are a trio of handsome, witty, crimefighting playboys, getting mobbed by lady fans (Hello, ladies!!!) desperate for an autograph, a selfie, a lock of your hair, a peck on the cheek, a full-on snog or a piece of your clothing, becomes as workaday as, say, putting on a shirt. 

We sent Clark to the fenceline to investigate the cooing and tittering sounds. Mainly because he happened to be standing up at the time, having just gone to grab himself another King Prawn skewer from the BBQ. (Not that I'm surprised - those suckers, marinated in coconut and lime as they were, were outstanding.) Michael and myself, meanwhile, were stretched out on our sunloungers with an ice cold cerveza in hand, reflecting on the day's events. We'd taken on a security gig at a top fashion shoot for some foxy wenches (sorry, models), a world-class photog and crew at a top-secret location. It was our job to make sure nobody got IN or OUT of the location lest the super-secret new fashions were leaked to the knockoff merchants selling it at rock bottom prices in your local flea market.

It's all zigzags and knee socks this autumn. (Not actually the photo shoot we were at).

Clark begrudgingly ambled towards the fenceline where the ladylike giggles and sighs could still be heard.

"HELLO??" he cried. "CAN WE HELP YOU!?"

I distinctly heard a lady's voice say, "Ooh, it's Clark - the strong one!", and then another say, "Ooh, I just LOVE it when he kicks Henri Petit out of a window!"

What happened next, we're not sure. Firstly, after Michael and I had had a good chuckle at what we were hearing, we looked up to see Clark reaching the fenceline, peering through the slats and then the sound of high-heeled shoes running, car doors opening and closing, a car slamming into gear and wheels spinning, tires squealing and they were gone. So fast was their exit that Clark didn't even see a license plate. He vaguely saw the outline of the vehicle which he said was either a Renault Espace or a Lamborghini Countach, but he couldn't be too sure. 

Either this...

or this. 

I saw him bend down and pick something up, then bring it over to show us. Here's what he had found - a card with this image on one side...

and on the reverse, a handwritten "See you later boys!"

Who are these mystery women (If indeed, they ARE women)? And what do they want?

This investigation is ongoing, so we'll clue you in as the week progresses.