YOU have probably gotten at least one e-mail from a person offering to send you lots of money from some faraway place. And if you were smart, you ignored these improbably generous offers because the scam detector in your gut went off.
But just for the fun of it, I recently responded enthusiastically to one such offer — then I called Homeland Security so together we could try to find out which particular flim-flam I was about to fall victim to.
Below is the e-mail conversation (with my running commentary) between me and a guy who, at various times during our exchange, gave his name as Mr Kwame Akaba, George Bloomberg and, finally, George Bulmberg.
When he was Akaba, he claimed to be AN official from Eco Bank Ghana. When he turned into “Captain George,” as he liked to call himself, he was a German who was commander of a special NATO coalition force in Afghanistan who came upon millions in US currency and wanted to invest it in the US — with my help, of course.
At other times, Capt George was a US Marine.
Here is my adventure (with all his bad grammar and punctuation included):
From Akaba to me:Without wasting much of your time I am Mr kwame Akaba from Eco Bank Ghana, I want to bring you into a business venture which I think should be of interest and concern to you, since it has to do with a perceived late family member of yours, this is because there is a substantial amount of funds which I suspect is tied to a distant family member of yours.
I don’t have any dead, or living, family members who would have had anything to do with Ghana. So I ignored this one, even though Akaba said he had sent something to me by “snail mail.”
Since he couldn’t have had my home mailing address this was, of course, a lie.
Then in early October, George Bloomberg — same spelling as the former Big Apple mayor — picked up the conversation from the same Gmail account as Akaba’s, although there was a different African-sounding name hidden in the address line.
From Capt George to me:I just need your acceptance and all is done. I have 100% authentic means of transferring the money through diplomatic courier service to you. Once i confirm your interest and your positive reply i will proceed to register your name as the beneficiary. please contact me.
Capt George gave me a Gmail address to use to contact him, so I did.
From me to Capt George: I am interested. What can I do?
This made Capt George happy.
From Capt George to me:Thank you for your email. i am glad that we can work together in this endeavour. i need the following details to ship the funds to you. please the attached file is what i’m sending to you and i have authentic means of shipment. waiting to hear from you
Never open attachments to e-mails. They can contain viruses that will allow people like Capt George to wipe out your computer, access your bank accounts and basically make your life miserable for a long time.
Of course, Capt George never planned to send me anything. What’s the difference if he was promising me 30 per cent or 40 per cent? So he agreed to my demands.
Wow, am I really getting money?! No paperwork. No lawyers.
That, anyway, is what Capt George wanted me to believe. But this did present a dilemma. I wasn’t going to send him my real address so, instead, I sent him The Post’s.
Only I didn’t want him to know the address was The Post’s headquarters, so I simply wrote “6th Avenue” instead of “Avenue of the Americas.” And I only put the location as the “10th floor,” which could appear to be a condo.
Capt George never Googled the address, so didn’t discover my secret.
Capt George then asked for a phone number.
I didn’t want to give him my home number or the number at The Post, so I bought a disposable phone — a “burner” as it’s called among law enforcement and those on the other side of the law.
I gave him that number just in case he wanted to call to say “hi” or to check me out.
HOW I FOILED CAPT GEORGE
Twenty-one million! In cash! And it was being sent to me in two 50-pound boxes marked “film”.
That’s what I had been promised by Capt George, an internet chameleon from either an African country, Germany or the US Marines — depending on which day he was contacting me.
And the boxes, that were supposed to contain US currency, were on their way to me by courier. At least, that is what the captain said. They were expected to arrive on a Wednesday and I needed to be alert, I was told by Capt George.
But there was a problem — and it was on my end.
I was going to be very busy on the day the money was scheduled to show up. (I made up that lie because every good story needs an unexpected plot twist.) But don’t worry, I said, the courier could leave the boxes on my doorstep and I’d pick them up when I got home.
Capt George was aghast.
There were several possible scams going on, and Homeland Security — which I had contacted — and I still couldn’t figure out which one Capt George was trying to pull.
Among the potential fraud vehicles: 1) An e-mail attachment that unleashes a virus and allows the crook to hack the computer and empty the victim’s bank account, or 2) A phony cheque that the victim cashes, giving the bad guy access to bank accounts.
Another, however, was serious and crazy enough that Homeland and I thought we might actually get boxes. Capt George could have been trying to get counterfeit currency into the US — some sort of terrorist thing to destabilise the US economy or, maybe, just a way to give friends $21 million in spending money. This option caught Homeland’s attention since fake greenbacks have been showing up.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Capt George wanted to make sure that I was thinking ahead — planning for my future. Here is more of our e-mail conversation:
Capt George to me: OK.i want to invest mine into properties in US. think of what to do with your 40%. Regards Capt George
I had all sorts of ideas. Maybe I’d buy a golf course, or at least some golf lessons.
Me to Capt George:I excited.
As I mentioned last time, I put just enough grammatical errors in my e-mails to make George think I was stupid enough to go along with this.
Capt George to me:John, i will ship the consignment today.
Oh, goodie, goodie. I’m going to be rich. What will I do with all that phony money?
Capt George to me: Dear John, Please find the attached the shipping document. i ship the two boxes today. one contain USD $12million and the other $9million totaling $21million. both will arrive your address by Wednesday.
I told Captain George that I thought he was sending me cheques.
Captain George to me:Don’t worry just pray it will arrive safely. I use the best means. There is no way i could have send check when the money was discovered in cash.
Capt George wanted me to open an attachment that showed the shipping details. I wouldn’t do it, and he threatened to cancel the shipment. So I lied. I told him I had opened the attachment when I really hadn’t. But Homeland did open it on a secure computer.
According to that “International Express Waybill,” there were “two box of film” headed my way. They were being sent by Capt George Bloomberg (spelled “Bulmberg” in his e-mails) from Kabul, Afghanistan, although no address or phone number was provided.
The company handling the shipment was called PCS. It seemed to have a web site, but the tracking number Capt George gave me didn’t come up in a search. And there was no phone number for PCS, just a fax.
That’s when I introduced the plot twist.
Capt George to me:Please make sure you are home to receive the delivery tomorrow.
Capt George couldn’t have gotten a package that size to me so quickly from Kabul, so this was one red flag that the money wasn’t coming.
Me to Capt George:I have something to do tomorrow. they just leave packages on the door step and I get them later. don’t worry
Capt George to me:You want them to drop usd $12million at your door and get it later. You must be a joker.
Aside from being appalled by my nonchalance, Capt George seemed concerned that he said $12 million, instead of $21 million. Maybe $12 million wouldn’t be enough to lure me in. He apologised.
That’s when I got tired of this charade. We knew enough about the possible shipment to stop it — if it was really coming. And Capt George was getting on my nerves.
Me to Capt George:I’m sorry. You should cancel this transaction and find someone dumber than me to do this.
I explained to the captain that Homeland was looking into this and that he should probably stop writing and hide. I haven’t heard from him since.
Homeland and I are still waiting for the boxes to show up. Capt George — likely originating from some lair in Nigeria — is probably bothering someone else by now. If you happen to be the next one to hear from him, please give him my regards.
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