Sunday, May 19, 2013
Ode to Joy (Blogophilia 12.6)
Steaming pavement ahead of me, I gunned the El Dorado down the Turnpike, wind blowing through my hair. The 417 and Trashcoast Parkway faded into the rear view. No more Mickey for me. A life long dream to stick it to man had borne fruit. I'd be picking up Mary in Boca and head to Candle Key. She had most of the supplies for the boat. Even if we are spotted, a title search would trace it to a Grand Cayman shell corporation with a completely fictions board of directors. We'll drink and dance with one hand free, leaving the wreckage behind.
You see, I had perfected a scam. Logging on to unsuspecting blog sites hawking Le Parfait. The latest in super anti aging cream for women with lots of money and more competition. Only, the site that I sent them to was just a mirror. A perfect clone of the original where I gathered more information than their Experian account. And over the last several months I had mined the data for those minute bytes that let me into the banking vault
Their individual accounts actually were useless to my scam. Sure, there was several million dollars over the thousands of accounts that could have easily been converted with no trace, but that was chump change. Instead, I had built an backtrace virus that would place worms inside the bank's files when I processed the orders. The worms would stay dormant until the command was sent.
For a while, running the scheme made me one of the largest wholesalers of the product. The orders needed to be processed correctly and on time to lay the appropriate cover. I set up business in an office park in the Orlando Tourist District to get it done. It was only a few miles from Air Cargo, and I could keep my onsite inventory fairly small for quick turnaround. 24 hours from receipt to ship was the motto at the end my end customer service ended up winning awards from J.D. Power.
And really, I was making enough money off the stuff to live a pretty good life. House on a lake, four car garage and all the young girls I could bed. All the trappings the good life in Orlando had and more. But it still was just an overgrown small town. All the Disney money and influence didn't change a thing. The same social families and the tabletop terrain had become old. And the pressure to push the big button had become too much.
The command was sent from the server in Belfast 48 hours ago. The code was pretty innocuous: "Liam loves Claire". But within milliseconds, eighteen worldwide banks were lightened of over $200 million, routing out through 45 shell companies all over the world. All in all, a total of 2.5 million transactions by 200 thousand computers worldwide over a six hour period. It will take the bean counters years to find it all.
Yeehaw Junction. I really shouldn't have stopped, but I needed to pee and it's 106 miles to Belle Glade and the next chance. No way to hold it that long. Letting off the accelerator, I let the big, blue monster drift into the off ramp and into the service plaza. Choosing a parking space down a bit from the doors, I shut off the car.
As the sun beat down on the pavement, I could hear the chorus from "Ode to Joy" coming from a BMW parked at the gas pumps. The ultimate victory song. A short, stout man with horn rimmed glasses nodded his head in time as the gas flowed in the tank. . Even I could feel my feet fall into time going towards the restroom door. Just a few more hours and they will be singing it for me. Looking up, a screen running a CNN story about the breaking bank scandal in London ran silently.
The sign pointing to the restrooms is next to the screen. Smiling, I wave at the cashier and head back. Ahead of me a young man enters ahead. I notice his shaved head and star tattoo on his neck, but don't think to much about it. I turn the corner.
Ow. Feels like someone just poked me. Did you hear a noise? Why do I feel so faint?
The room swims and the sight of the young face looms over me. "Keys?! Where the keys?"
The black steel barrel is the last thing I see.