Sebastian and the Gara Rufa Fish
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For Money Or MayhemChapter 7: Little Fish free porn video
I’d taken apart the laptop I was issued at the office, used peripherals for entering data, wiped the hard drive, reinstalled everything, and stored all my data, including my email, on a removable drive. But I still wasn’t satisfied with the device. My personal laptop was faster, had more memory, and had all the software on it I couldn’t install on the company laptop. So the last thing I did before I got home Wednesday was buy a smartcard reader for my personal laptop and head to my cozy apartment to try using remote access from my personal computer. My laptop wouldn’t be recognized by the network, but my smartcard should let me through. Then, maybe I could explore the databanks of Evergreen Financial Corp. while others were asleep and unaware.
About ten Wednesday night my phone buzzed and I snapped it open.
“Hamar.”
“Nails,” came the response, followed by a suppressed giggle.
“Sorry. Hi Andi. I didn’t mean to sound snappish.”
“I must have caught you in Nowhere Land. Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. I was just working on a computer and didn’t pay attention to who was calling.”
“I thought I had a custom ring.”
“The phone’s on vibrate. But I’m happy to chat anyway. Any break from the demons of the corporate world is welcome.” I smiled and left my desk so I wouldn’t be tempted to keep looking at the screen while we talked. It’s a bad habit. I plopped down in my recliner and clicked the light on over my one painting—a man looking out across the sea. It was painted by a dear friend back in high school and always makes me feel peaceful.
“Cali has been going on nonstop about how cool it was of you to pick them up in the Mustang. Everyone they know is insanely jealous. She and Mel want to know if you would chauffeur them every day.”
“Well...”
“I’m kidding, Dag. But seriously, Cali has a big-time crush on that car. She’s actually talking about wanting to get a driver’s license. You know Mel has had hers for over a year, but Cali just wasn’t interested until now.”
“Tell her a driver’s license isn’t enough to get her into the driver’s seat of my baby.”
“I’m sure. But the girls want to pay you back and asked me to invite you to the movies Friday night.”
“What movie?”
“They’ve got tickets for us all to go see Once a Hero at Harvard Exit. It’s a new film with a PG rating. Please save me from being the lone adult with these two wild ones.”
“That sounds like fun. I can’t take four in my car, though. Mel was folded like a pretzel in the back seat this afternoon.”
“Not to worry. Mel’s parents approved the movie and suggested she drive her guests. They’re pretty conservative and even though Mel is seventeen, they still hold a tight rein on what she sees and with whom. I think they approved because I said I’d go with them.”
“From what I’ve seen, having Mel around would turn me into a very conservative parent as well,” I laughed. “What a wild child.”
“It might have worked the other way around,” Andi sighed. “I worry that all their rules have pushed her to act out in ways that aren’t always appropriate. At least it makes me look like the world’s coolest mom by comparison.”
“That you are. What time Friday?”
“The girls will pick us up from the faculty lounge at seven if you are going to be there.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.” I could hear cheers in the background as apparently Cali had been close enough to get the gist of our conversation.
“Good night, Dag. I seem to have a happy girl on my hands.”
“Good night, Andi.”
I was a pretty happy guy, too. I was going to take three lovely women to the movies. Or be taken. What difference did it make? I sat for a few minutes just staring out at the ocean in the painting on my wall. Finally, I snapped out the light and settled back in front of my computer. The night was still young.
The most intriguing part of the EFC information highway was the fraud line. Computer gurus don’t analyze threats on the fraud hotline. It’s a place where consumers report problems with their accounts. I guessed that only one out of ten people who suspect a problem with their accounts actually report it. That would be comparable to the number of consumers who actually send in rebate coupons when they buy something at a store.
Half the time, credit card statements aren’t even examined unless there’s an expense report to be filed. An unfamiliar charge might be passed off as just another expense. A married person might assume something was charged by the spouse. There are those who call the phone number associated with the purchase. They could find that “according to the on-line agreement you signed, this renews automatically at the first of every month unless we are notified in writing of your intention to withdraw.” Or they might sit on hold with a message that customer service is helping another customer, playing over and over for hours. An especially tenacious customer might fight it out with the vendor, but still not report it to the credit card issuer.
But occasionally, a person will see something that is out of the ordinary and challenge it. Very rarely, it will be done in such a timely manner that the company can actually do something about it. “My electronic statement shows six charges for $29.95 late last night. I didn’t charge anything. What’s going on?” In that instance, the call gets bumped to the head of the queue. The database of vendors is searched. An off-shore porn company? Over a hundred cards charged for six items by that company just before midnight?
A calling force is organized to call all the affected cardholders to warn them that unauthorized charges have been made and their card information could be compromised. New cards are issued. Refunds are made, and the unit sent out to investigate the fraudulent vendor reports back that the company’s accounts have all been closed and the vendor has disappeared. Net loss absorbed by the credit card company of over $25,000 plus time. There is no one to prosecute. Perhaps the company’s fraud losses move from two basis points to two-point-one basis points. The fraud barely registers in the accounts as a bookkeeping error.
But someone out there just stole $25,000.
It was the fraud hotline that led me to the seamy underbelly of the EFC cyberworld.
Every possible thing on earth can be bought with a credit card—drugs, prostitutes, a kidney, a trip to the space station. As long as the vendor has established a merchant bank account, credit cards are good.
Having learned from the underworld bosses of prohibition, most of these operate as respectable businesses. Their accounting is meticulous. They pay sales and income taxes—though not necessarily on the actual goods being sold. There is no reason for the IRS to investigate. On paper, they are legitimate businesses.
In reality, the purchase of web design services by a wealthy businessman may have included a web template personally delivered by a prostitute. Of course, there could be additional charges, but said businessman is not going to complain that he didn’t get his prostitute with those deliveries. It wouldn’t be good for his image as a church-going husband and father of three.
Here in the darkest parts of the World Wide Web, there is really only one business—greed. Any way to move money, even virtual cash, from one pocket to another is accepted.
A line of angry men pounded on a locked door demanding a refund. The door stood alone in the middle of the street and from my angle it was obvious there was nothing behind it. The vendor had closed shop and erased all traces of it.
A woman pled for help at the door of a mission in return for the years she had been donating to it. The fat pseudo-priest reminding her that she had not subscribed to a long-term care package, but described what a wonderful future she would have if she signed over her remaining assets to them.
Despicable as these were, they weren’t what I was looking for. I followed winding streets looking for a back door into a corporate giant. It was easier to find than I ever anticipated.
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