Black Money

Black Money : A Revenge Story

Note: This short story is very loosely based on a true story. I've modified it to fit within the strictures of this content

Prologue

The intense heat of the dry season sun was blasting the densely populated town of Accra. The narrow streets, bustling people, and almost nuclear blasts of heat from the white star were quickly becoming unbearable for inconspicuously dressed traveler. And to top it all off, the poor man didn't even have an exact time for the meeting.

In all actuality it had only been about 45 minutes since he'd been seated, but it had seemingly been hours since he had arrived at the point of rendezvous. As Vlad sat and waited for his server to bring the menu out, a young man of about 30 years old approached the table and took a seat. And just in time, as the waitress had just approached the table to offer drinks to the guests.

"I will take de Lamugin." Said the new West African guest to the young lady in a thick Ghanaian accent. As his Russian business associate ordered his refreshing elixir, Kwesi never took his eyes off of him. He was waiting to get down to the trade.

Finally, the light haired woman walked off, and Vlad immediately began to remove a large manila envelope from in his trench coat. "Ridiculous to wear such clothing in this burning Hell," thought Kwesi. It was easily above 100 degrees Fahrenheit on this particular day, and a dry, dust laden wind was blustering through the tight Accran corridors. Kwesi observed that the dry brown powder was beginning to bond with Vlad's profusely sweating skin.

Vlad slid the envelope across the table to Kwesi, who then tore open the top with not a fleck of patience. He wanted to claim his prize, and then retreat back to his air conditioned apartment. As Kwesi removed a small black booklet, he glanced up at Vlad and nodded slightly. He passed a paper bag over to Vlad, and then immediately got up and shot down the alley, quickly disappearing in the crush of civilians, leaving Vlad with the responsibility to pay the check. He could afford it after all. The bag Vlad had received had 3 thousand dollars cash inside.

Excitement

Vivian's alarm rang obnoxiously. Having grown up on a farm in the late 1950's, she was very used to having to shoot out of bed before even the sun had risen, and now 70 years on, it was not a bit different. In fact, Vivian enjoyed the cool winter mornings. The below freezing temperatures outside were rather harsh on her skin, but that just helped her to further awaken.

Today was special. It was Vivian's 81st birthday, and her son his wife were expected over a bit later that evening. She was hoping her grandson Mack would be along as well, but she knew he was very busy these days. "Best not to dwell about it for now," she thought as she began filtering her coffee. She had other excitements to deal with.

For the past month now, a very close friend of Vivian's had been working with her to start a business, but they'd fallen onto financial troubles. As an avid Christian, Vivian obviously believed in miracles, but she could still hardly believe her luck when discovered an email she had apparently received. Apparently, a distant relative of hers had passed on, bless his soul, and left her with a rather unbelievable inheritance. She had been shocked silly to learn she was the recipient of 125 kilograms of gold. The message had been sitting in her spam folder for 3 days by the time she'd discovered it. She had hoped it wasn't too late

The sender of this miraculous news was supposedly a representative of the Ghanaian treasury. The only thing that had been holding back this stupendous miracle was the small issue that the gold was in Africa, and a method of getting the gold to her in North Western Pennsylvania was desperately needed. The representative, who was named James, seemingly had a solution: he was close friends with the president of an international transportation company. Earlier in the week, he had contacted this company and arranged for the gold to be flown to her country.

James had been shocked by the price the company needed to carry this business out. The invoice that Vivian had received was for $20,000 dollars. There was always a catch...

-----$$$-----

Kwesi grinned broadly as he refreshed his email. His new friend had just responded, saying that she was leaving for the bank momentarily. Kwesi was in a very good mood, as things were going much smoother than he could ever have imagined.

This woman Vivian's name had been in the black notebook he'd purchased a couple of weeks back. The notebook was what's known as a "sucker list," which is a record of folks who've fallen for scams before, and this have a heightened likelihood of being scammable. Kwesi had payed good money for this list, and it was already paying off, as Vivian was on the first page. He could already taste success well on it's way.

This foolish old lady didn't suspect a thing. Usually, Kwesi would offer to pay the vast majority of the owed sum as a way to build trust with his victims before fleecing them blind, leaving them with a mere few thousand dollars to pay, but this saggy old mugu had offered to take the entire fee out of her life's savings, and now Kwesi was simply waiting for the bank transfer of $20,000 dollars. Kwesi felt as if he had actually struck gold.

Patience

Vivian had just left the bank, and she was in high spirits. The clerk had acted a bit odd by calling down her manager, obviously shocked at the large sum of money that her client was trying to transfer. But Vivian had assured her all was well, and the transfer had been completed. On her way back home, she decided to take a detour to grab some lunch. Not having her cell phone with her was a bit of an inconvenience at times, but she enjoyed the uninterrupted quality of her time out. James could wait until she returned home.

When Vivian finally arrived back at her house, she plopped down on the sofa in her living room, and picked up her phone. She was making an international call to Ghana to inform James that the transfer had been successful when a loud pounding sounded from her front door. Her family had arrived, so she blew James off again.

-----$$$-----

"James" was in no hurry to speak with Vivian again. Far from it in fact. Unfortunately for Vivian, James was a false identity. Nothing more than an alias. Kwesi sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette. Soon the 20 grand Vivian had sent would reflect in his bank account, and he would be all set financially for quite some time.

Panic

Vivian didn't get around to calling James until later in the afternoon of the next day. She picked up the phone at their usual time, and dialed the number. Vivian had been in near constant contact with James for the past month, so she found it odd when he didn't pick up. Again she tried. And again, to no avail. And on the fourth attempt, the call wouldn't complete. Why wouldn't the call go through?

Next Vivian hopped onto her computer to send a message to James. She logged onto her email, and drafted a quick message to James. A few seconds after hitting send, she received an automated reply from the mailing system stating that she was trying to send a message to an invalid recipient. And then it clicked. Vivian simply could not believe that she'd been scammed, yet again.

And then Vivian's chest began to tighten, and she felt as if she couldn't breath. She had been having heart problems for the past few years, so this new revelation was simply the push over the edge. She fell to the floor and began to seize. As she crawled across the living room floor to the coffee table in a futile attempt to grab her life alert chain, the pressure in her chest continued to mount. She passed out no more than a foot away from her target.

-----$$$-----

It was starting to get late by the time Mack realized his grandmother still hadn't called. The elderly woman had breathlessly exclaimed in the phone earlier that afternoon how she'd ran into quite a large some of money, but she hadn't had the time to explain. Tech savvy Mack - who actually had gotten a master's degree in computer science - had been moderately concerned, as the internet is full of malicious predators who'd sell their soul for a quick buck, but he figured he'd have time to investigate.

Now as the winter darkness brought with it a new prospect of snow, Mack figured he'd take the short drive over to grandma Vivian's home and say hello. As usual for this time of year, the car gave a few sputters before turning over. Letting out an exhale, Mack observed his icy breath in the chilled air. "Five more minutes for the car to warm up, then I'll head over," thought Mack as he trudged back through the thick snow on his front yard, attempting with only some success to back track through his previous trail.

-----$$$-----

Mack immediately knew something wasn't right when he arrived at Vivian's place. All of the lights were off. "Has she gone to bed already" thought Mack as he slowly walked up the driveway from his car. He obviously didn't want to wake an elderly lady up, but now he was concerned to check up on her. It was unlike her to go to bed so early.

As he approached the door, Mack could hear Vivian's dog just absolutely wailing away in the darkness. This was not Cally's normal, happy bark. This was a spooky, almost wolf-like howling, and it made the hair on Mack's neck stand on end. Mack gave a slight knock on the door, and then slowly worked into a raucous, fast-paced rapping. No answer. Well, not from Vivian anyways. Cally began whining at the door, and Mack decided he'd just let himself in. He did have a key after all.

Once he was inside the mud room, Mack could hear a strange, high-pitched whistling. Upon entering the living room he realized what it was. It was Vivian's tea kettle. To Mack's curiosity, it grew higher in pitch, and then all of sudden went quiet. "Hmmm, it must've ran out. Why didn't she come get her tea before it all evaporated?" Thought Mack.

The living room was pitch dark, except for a small green light emanating from Vivian's desktop computer, indicating that it too was apparently asleep. Mack slowly navigated over to the desk and clicked on the mouse. A flood of bright light illuminated the room, temporarily causing Mack's eyes to squint. But when his eyes adjusted, Mack went white with shock.

Laying in a visibly uncomfortable position on the ground was Vivian, and she didn't appear to be breathing. On the computer, Mack noticed the email that was opened up on the screen. Vivian had been so shocked by the realization that she'd been scammed that she'd had a massive heart attack, and died right there on the living room floor.

Mack immediately dialed 911, and sat down so as not to pass out as he waited in the eerie computer light for the paramedics to arrive.

The Plan

Kwesi decided it was time for him to upgrade his living situation. He was sick and tired of his dusty little apartment. With $20,000 dollars now safely in his completely separate bank account, he could now afford a much nicer place. He began looking that very afternoon.

-----$$$-----

Mack had sat on the couch the entire time the paramedics and various other authorities had been at Vivian's. Sure, he had answered many questions, but he wasn't actually there. He was in shock, and grief of course, but he was also seething with rage. As a highly educated man with a degree in computer science, he was all too aware of the world of scams. He knew exactly what had happened to Vivian, and that her frail old heart couldn't handle the shock of the whole mess.

Before the authorities had gotten around to collecting the computer as evidence, Mack had snapped a quick picture of the email with his cell phone. He would begin immediately with his plans for revenge.

"How would I even find this guy?" Thought Mack. As he searched his mind for answers, he thought back to the time some prick in Slovenia had tried to hack into his email account. The only reason he'd even known was because of the way his email security worked. His email provider offered an alternative to having a password for security.

Instead of having to type in a password, Mack had signed up for the "login key" function. This nifty little trick makes any person trying to log into the email account from a new or unrecognized device send a push notification to an already recognized smart phone or computer which then needs to be approved by the owner. The punchline is, it also provides a true originating IP address.

An IP address, short for internet protocol address, is basically your cybernetic mailing address, and although there's ways around it, it can often be traced to a physical location on Earth. Something that Mack understood better than most people wouldn't realize was that taking an IP address from an email header won't generally give you any valuable information, because it's the IP of a server. However, The IP address provided by the login key is the true originating IP.

At that instant, Mack had an ingenious solution to his geo-location problem. He decided in a moment of pure inspiration that he could reverse engineer this function. Knowing that these scammers usually email hundreds if not thousands of prospective victims at a time, Mack figured he could simply send the scammer a message posing as a potential victim, and the thief would never suspect a thing.

Mack would then only need to trick the fraudster into attempting to log into his email account. He created a new email account under the alias Jacob Spencer. He obviously wouldn't want the scammer to know any personal information about his actual identity. He then clicked compose and typed out the entire original message from the top of Vivian's email thread, forged a timestamp with his email details in place of Vivian's, and then simply drafted a response. Justice or revenge, it didn't matter. Mack wanted to make this crook pay for what he did to Vivian.

Deception

Mack had been talking to this so called "James" person for about a week. Of course, he had wanted Mack to pay a fee almost immediately. So now the dilemma Mack was faced with was delaying having to pay this fee, but without "James" becoming suspicious about the exchange. The excuse Mack came up with was brilliant.

"Dear James, Unfortunately I cannot make a payment of $20,000, as that it was out of my budget. I need some time to come up with such a fee."

To Mack's surprise, James retorted with:

"Hello again Mr. Mack, that is okay, I can cover quite a bit of it for us. You may pay just a one time payment of $1,000 USD."

Of course Mack still needed to delay the transaction, but when he replied to inform James that he still needed at least a week, the imposter demanded that he make the payment by Saturday, which was only 4 days away. But the timing was actually perfect, as James had already booked a flight out of the country for Friday morning.

Earlier in the week, Mack had tricked the now overly confident scammer into attempting to log into his email account. When "James" had requested an image of his driver's license for "security purposes," Mack had cunningly sent a blank image, and then played it off as if it was simply the inability of James's device to open the file. "Well, if I can trust you, I will just allow you access into my email account to view the image." After just one unsuccessful attempt at getting into Mack's inbox, the scammer had given up on the ID and just told Mack that it had been "well received."

Unbeknownst to James, Mack had in fact gotten the login attempt notification, but he simply informed it, stating "nothing has came through." The IP address that Mack had extracted had given him an overwhelming trove of James's personal information. He had been able to identify James's internet service provider, the exact device model he was using, and crucially, his location: Accra, Ghana. In under a week, Mack would be in the Ghanaian capital city of Accra.

Forgery

The first thing Mack noticed upon stepping out of the airport was the absolutely scorching heat. Despite the fact that it was early February. This was a drastic contrast from the small Pennsylvanian town he had been living in for his whole life thus far. In fact the heat was so intense that he almost wondered if the part of the sidewalk under his shadow would be a permanent light spot after the blazing sun scorched around it, just like the nuclear shadows left in the Japanese city of Hiroshima.

Mack's first objective would have to be acquiring a pay-as-you-go SIM card for his phone so he could make calls, send text messages, and most importantly, have data so he could use the internet and reply to his emails. He would need it for what he had in store for "James." He had already had his service provider unlock his phone prior to the trip.

It took Mack nearly 2 hours of wandering the dusty streets to find what he was looking for. After he finally did get his new SIM, his next order of business was finding a suitable hotel. He had indeed had quite a bit of money saved up for his yearly vacation anyways, so he could afford something half-way decent. He settled on a beach side hotel with an expansive view of the sea.

As he settled into his room for the night, Mack mulled over the flight, the view, and his master plan to bring justice to "James." He now knew for a fact that James was not his real name. In fact, Mack actually knew this guy's real first name! He had came across the information while combing through Vivian's emails. Law enforcement had obviously took Vivian's computer as evidence in case of there ever being an investigation, but Vivian had been on her email at Mack's place, while on his computer. Mack hadn't even needed to sign in.

Mack had found an email from "James" that had an attachment with it. The document's title was "Official Certificate of Ownership." The page itself was rather lack-luster, and maybe even a little amusing in a goofy sort of way. It had a watermark of the Ghanaian coat of Arms, an "official" seal, and respectable heading and writing format, even though it was riddled with typos. But the contents of the sheet weren't what Mack was interested in.

Mack was more concerned with the hidden fields saved on the document. Known as metadata, every digital file has hidden attributes saved inside of every document, picture, music, or whatever else, and Mack had known this. He'd used a free online tool to extract and view these hidden attributes.

The author of the .PDF file was someone named "Kwesi." Perhaps knowing the scammer's first name wasn't of any consequence in the end, but knowing something he wasn't supposed to know had given Mack a much bigger confidence boost. Mack's plan was falling into place.

Mack already had another important piece of the palm in his hand: the scammer's back account details, which he'd gotten from the crook's email to Vivian. All Mack had needed to do was look up the swift code to figure out what bank the scammer used. The next day was Saturday, so "James" would be expecting Mack's payment to him, and Mack had every intention of exploiting this.

Although it was possible that the scammer wouldn't need to make a trip to the bank to use his funds if Mack sent them to him, Mack was hoping that the account was a dummy account, and that he'd have to come in to withdraw the cash. A large chunk of these scammers have their accounts reported on a regular basis, and Mack doubted that Kwesi would want to risk having his account frozen with any fresh money in it. So in short, Mack was planning to strike when he saw "James" enter the bank in an attempt to grab his fresh winnings.

Prior to flying to Ghana, Mack had already expertly forged a bank to bank transfer receipt with the upcoming Saturday's date on it. Mack had been so meticulous that he was one hundred percent confident that it would pass as a real document. The scammer would almost certainly need to see it to believe any funds had been sent, so Mack didn't want to take any chances.

As he switched off his bed side lamp so he could try and get some sleep, Mack knew the next day would be eventful.

Hacking

It was a last minute change. In the early hours of the Ghanaian morning when the temperature was still bearable that Mack decided on a change in plans. The plan he'd laid down was to have Vivian's scammer believe he'd had money transferred into his account, and then watching for him to enter the bank. He hadn't been able to figure out how he'd pick out the right person if there were lots of people on the bank.

Instead, Mack had sent James the receipt, and then wrote that he'd made the deposit. "James's response was almost immediate. He would go to the bank when it opened at first light.

Now, four hours later, Mack waited for James's response upon learning that no money had been deposited. It hadn't take long.

"Mr. Mack, You did not comply and put any money into the account. You are not serious. Am not in the mood for a game."

Now came the tricky part. Mack would need to convince the scammer that he wasn't playing a joke, and doing that would require him to use two different identities. First Mack drafted up a reply, but didn't send it right away. He saved it as a draft. Then, using a completely different email provider, he created a new email account using the moniker "Andrew Finklemeyer."

Using his new false identity, Mack wrote up a message to James.

"Hi broda I go jack account an chop de Mack money. You goin follow my rule or you get no cut. But if you tell de mugu you got de fund afta all, you keep a part. Play along, we don want Global Commune internet to find out of de fraud, my local boy work there an his eye be on you."

This message could've ruined the whole setup, but if it payed off, Mack knew it would solve his problem of identification. But surprisingly, "James" immediately agreed. After some back and forth messaging, it was settled that the money would be split 50/50, and that all James needed to do was to tell the mugu (victim) that he got all the money after all. Mack knew his plan had worked once James messaged him back to his true identity informing him that his secretary had simply forgotten to inform him that she'd withdrawn the cash.

Mack didn't reply. He didn't need to. Next "Andrew" got James to agree to a restaurant meetup instead of an electronic transfer method. All he'd needed to do was talk about how high profile he was, and that because of this, he couldn't risk leaving an electronic trail. The meetup was set for the Tornado Steak House. Andrew told James to go in and order a specific food of Andrew's pick. Once he saw James's entrée being brought to the table, Andrew would come in and slip a small bag containing James's cut of the money to him.

Unknown to James, "Andrew" was not going to come in at all. Instead, once he observed the food being brought to an odd looking fellow wearing a Zebra shirt, he fired off an email with the surprise knowledge that he'd already deposited the money in the men's restroom. James would have to go in and snap pictures for Andrew to view and send back with the area with the hidden money circled with red ink.

James did protest a bit, but he just couldn't resist. Mack saw him get up and slink into the bathroom. While James was distracted splashing around in the toilet "Andrew" had sent back with a red circle around it, Mack called the local law enforcement. Now certain of who his target was, he'd be able to identify him to the police. "James's" time as a free man was up for the foreseeable future.

Toilet of Vengence

"I cannot believe I'm doing this" mumbled James as he opened up the toilet head in his third checked bathroom stall of the night. "This guy must be playing me." Twice now, "Andrew" had claimed he accidentally circled the wrong shall, so now James fired off a threatening message to him.

"Eat all the money an do what pleases you fool. My gang is all over Ghana. I will hit you thief like a hit man."

The now infuriated Kwesi knew he'd have to quit using his "James" identity, but he would make this guy pay. Now he suspected Mack and Andrew were the same person, and he was out for blood.

But unfortunately for Kwesi, he'd been beaten at his own game. As he stormed out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, he was immediately faced with 6 armed police officers wearing the traditional dark denim blue law enforcement outfit with Ghana's flag pinned on their chests.

Avenger

Mack hadn't been allowed to watch the arrest, and the lieutenant had told him that it'd likely he a very long time before he'd ever get his grandmother's money back if he ever got it back at all, but Mack still felt very satisfied with the way things turned out. He felt like an avenging angel, of sorts.

"It turns out this guy is an upper level 419 email scammer, and we've been after him for many years. Usually specific scammers don't make it to our wanted list like this guy, but unfortunately, he's even scammed members of the U.S. congress."

That was what the leuitenant had said to Mack after the arrest, and Mack was glad he'd helped get this sucker off of the street. How ironic was it that this master of scammery had been fooled with the same sort of tactics that he regularly employed? Mack loved the irony in that observation, and with that, Mack needed to figure out "what next?"

Not being able to stand the blazing African heat, Mack decided that, even though he couldn't believe such a thought was in his head, he was ready to head back home to his cold, snowy town. He slept like a baby on the flight. After all, he'd taken down a pretty big member of the African scam community Even though he had nothing to show for it, he felt accomplished. He mourned the loss of his dear grandma, but now he felt she could truly rest in peace, and so he zonked out. Of course, he also had jet lag. Whatever the reasons were, he caught some Z's.