Gangs (20 page)

‘There are cases where the fraudsters will send out newspaper and magazine clippings to back up parts of their story about the origins of the money they need moved out of the country. More than once, the gangs have actually managed to get stories placed in genuine publications.

‘When it comes to the kind of documentation that gets sent out, some of it is first class. It used to be the case that the letters were full of spelling mistakes and grammatical errors but they have really smartened up their act. They can produce government and bank letterheads with impressive-looking seals and stamps that are virtually indistinguishable from the real thing. The cottage industry that exists to support this kind of forgery is an industry in itself.

‘We recently stopped a Nigerian leaving the country with a single suitcase, opened it up and found that it was full of old travel passes for the London Underground, bus tickets, stuff like that. It was all completely worthless and it took us a while to figure out what it was for. Basically in Nigeria the stuff is like gold dust. When people go to meet them wherever, they can make out they’ve been travelling around, that they bought things or lived in certain places. As far as the victims are concerned, it all adds to the feeling that the people they are dealing with are genuine.

‘So far as the reality of you going to Amsterdam is concerned, a number of things might happen. At present around half a dozen people travel over there each week after responding to 419 emails. Some of them get picked up and driven out to somewhere in the suburbs where they are taken into the basement of a shop. If they don’t hand over any money right away, they get put under a bit of pressure until they do.

‘I’ve had calls from people who say they were told to wait in their hotel room and that they waited all day and no one turned up. Or that when the people turned up they felt a bit intimidated so they gave them all the money they had or allowed themselves to be driven to a cashpoint or bank to empty their account.

‘The bottom line is that the 419 fraudsters are only interested in making money, but violence is not unknown.’

The following afternoon, my phone rings and I answer it absent-mindedly. ‘Hello, Tony, this is Tao.’ He sounds genuinely distraught. He asks why I have not yet sent my passport number. Time is running out. Without it, he explains, he cannot put together the power-of-attorney. For a few brief seconds I forget the whole thing is a scam and find myself feeling genuinely sorry for him. I apologise and tell him I will do so immediately.

It is at this point, desperate to win my sympathy, that Tao recounts the story of the death of his father and I return to my senses. I manage to stop myself laughing out loud and instead sound sympathetic to his plight. I promise to forward my passport details by email, and explain that immediately afterwards I will book my flight to Amsterdam. I tell him the reason for the delay is that my company has just won a new contract and that I’m having to take on new staff and expand. At the other end of the line I am sure I can hear Tao’s eyes widening, his hands rubbing: more business for me means more money for him to steal.

He gives me a new telephone number and also a code name, which he asks me to use whenever I try to get hold of him. ‘When you call me, say the name Omega and I will respond Delta. If I do not answer Delta, hang up and call back.’ Tao fails to explain the need for such a scheme but I later learn that rivalry exists even within the 419 gangs, and that if one member finds a likely mug, he will often try to exclude others working from the same office in order to keep more of the profits for himself.

The desire to cut costs means the scammers often share telephone lines and sometimes even Internet cafés, forcing them to work far more closely with one another than they would ideally like. ‘419s are such a popular thing in Nigeria right now,’ said one high-ranking member of the Nigerian Secret Service task force, charged with investigating the schemes. ‘On any given day, you may have a hundred people, ranging from amateur crooks to organised criminals, all using the same Internet café to send out 419 emails.’

I jumble up a few of the numbers on my passport – I can always claim it was a genuine mistake – and email them off to Tao. There are, according to Duncan, two possible motives for him requesting them. The best-case scenario for me is that he simply wants to make the documentation appear more legitimate and will therefore include my details on the power-of-attorney he is drawing up. The worst is that he has a contact who buys passport numbers for use in putting together forgeries. In either case it will only be a matter of time before he asks to see the real thing.

Two days later I receive scanned versions of some seemingly genuine legal documents, signed by Tao, granting me power-of-attorney over the funds lodged in Amsterdam. The email explains that Tao has sent a copy to the finance company and that they are preparing a certificate of deposit in my name, allowing me to claim the money as my own.

To my great relief, the email goes on to make the first request for money, something I had expected to happen far sooner. Tao mentions casually that when I arrive in Amsterdam I should have with me a copy of the power-of-attorney, a copy of the certificate of deposit (which he will give me on arrival), a copy of my passport (so the number can be checked against the documents) and the sum of $14,200.

The money, he explains, is to cover the ‘demurrage’, a kind of interest payment that has accrued because the money has been with the company far longer than was originally intended. ‘I tried to negotiate with them to see if they can allow you to secure the consignment before making this payment but was categorically told that this is not permitted because of the company insurance policy. My dear friend, it was never my intention to ask you for any financial assistance but you are now the only person who can help. As a refugee I earn only a hundred and fifty dollars as a monthly allowance, which is not even enough to feed myself. Please God, I trust and have faith that you will do everything in your power to find the money so we can make this deal.’

I don’t want to appear too eager so I write back and tell Tao that I had already booked a flight to Amsterdam but I was surprised to learn that I would need to bring so much cash with me. I tell him I will make inquiries and that, God willing, we will be able to proceed.

Three days later, having spoken to Tao and been told that the certificate of deposit is ready, and having convinced him that I should be able to get the money wired to me by a business associate once I’m in the Netherlands, I arrive at Luton airport in plenty of time to board my one o’clock flight to Amsterdam.

My plan is simple: I want to have one and possibly two meetings with Tao and the gang, stall them about getting hold of the fourteen grand, then get the hell out of Dodge before they realise they’re not going to get anything out of me. But, having promised them a bumper pay-day, I know I’m playing with fire.

As my flight begins its descent into Schiphol airport, I can’t help worrying that the fake passport number I gave to Tao may have been a dead giveaway. At the back of my mind is the inescapable fact that in every case I have examined involving violence or murder, the trigger was the victim’s refusal to play along and pay up at least some of the money when asked. If the gang runs out of patience or, worse still, discovers that, far from being a new source of income, I’m just a writer trying to expose their activities, I’m going to be in big trouble.

 

According to the Dutch anti-fraud authorities there are around forty gangs made up of around three hundred Nigerians actively running 419 schemes in Amsterdam at any one time, using it as a base from which to arrange meetings with gullible victims from all over Europe.

Although Tao has repeatedly told me that he is in Amsterdam, there is no guarantee that he will actually be the man waiting for me when I get off the plane. The telephone numbers he provided may have Netherlands codes but even this means nothing. The latest digital technology means that calls can be diverted in an instant to anywhere in the world. Some of the gangs take advantage of this to make even more money by linking their numbers to premium-rate call lines. Even the most innocent inquiries can cost the hapless victim fifty pounds per minute in charges.

Instead of meeting the victims themselves many of the heads of the larger fraud gangs have team members in cities across the world who act as intermediaries. These subordinates often work hand in hand with others, who are introduced as high-flying bankers, lawyers or financial consultants but are in fact other members of the same gang. ‘It’s a classic good-cop bad-cop strategy,’ the man from NCIS told me. ‘It means one of them can sympathise about the fact everything is going wrong while the other makes increasingly desperate demands for cash. They’ll pretend not to be good friends and play off one another but you’ll be left with the distinct feeling that, afterwards, they’ll all get together and have a good laugh while discussing their next move.’

The main discussions the gang will have will centre around just how much more money they think they will be able to screw out of me. Having already promised that I will have $14,200 on me when I arrive, and made little fuss about obtaining such an amount, I have identified myself as a man of considerable means. If they follow the usual pattern, the next request will be for two or three times as much, and if I balk at this they will slowly reduce it until they find a level I am more comfortable with.

My big fear, however, is of ending up in a confined space with two or three members of the 419 team, a situation in which they could easily apply pressure to force me to hand over any cash I have or even hold me against my will and demand a ransom.

My research has shown that, despite the supposed presence of a finance company with a vault stuffed with millions of pounds’ worth of ill-gotten gains, all of the meetings between myself, Tao and others are likely to take place in my hotel room. To that end I have booked a room but have no intention of staying overnight. Instead I’ll get a flight back later that same evening and escape to safety.

As I queue up for passport control I start thinking through my plan and suddenly it seems ridiculously flawed. Having made them aware that the first payment of $14,200 is just round the corner, it seems unlikely that they will let me out of their sight, even for a few minutes. More to the point, while the gangs seem to prefer to visit people at their hotels there are dozens of cases of people being met at the airport and driven to remote locations from where the deal is made.

I walk through the sliding doors into the arrivals area and scan the crowd in front of me. To the middle of the group on my left is a tall black man in a grey suit that hangs unevenly over his slightly podgy body. He holds a rectangle of paper torn from a notebook with my name scrawled on it in thin black ink. I take a deep breath and stride towards him. Then, just before I open my mouth to speak, I have a brainwave.

‘Mr Thompson?’ asks the man, smiling broadly.

‘Actually, I’m Mr Walker, personal assistant to Mr Thompson,’ I say, changing my voice slightly. ‘He’s been held up and asked me to meet you and apologise. You must be Tao.’

We shake hands. I feel like I’m running on auto-pilot as I explain that, due to a last-minute shareholders’ meeting, my boss had to miss the flight and will be catching a slightly later one instead. In the meantime I tell Tao that if he briefs me as fully as possible about the course of events it will save a great deal of time once Mr Thompson arrives.

We make our way to the Runway Café in the foyer of the Sheraton Hotel, a short walk from the airport terminal, order coffee and orange juice and begin to speak. As I listen to Tao I try to work out whether his voice is the same as the one I have heard on the phone, but with his heavy accent it is impossible to say.

Tao seems frustrated. He keeps looking at his watch and asking me when exactly I think my boss will arrive. He says he has a number of appointments and he took time out especially to come to the airport. Deep down he seems quite angry but is struggling to control himself. ‘It’s all very straightforward,’ Tao explains. ‘When Mr Thompson arrives we will take him to the office of the security company and there, once his identity has been confirmed and the demurrage paid, he will sign the final documentation to allow the money to be released. Will he have the money with him?’

I feel a shiver pass through me as I realise that Tao doesn’t intend the meeting to take place at the hotel room after all. I take a deep breath and reply, ‘I believe he didn’t want to bring it with him on the plane so he is having it transferred by Western Union and will collect it in Amsterdam shortly after his arrival.’

I ask where the security company is based, and Tao gives me the name of a town I have never heard of but later learn is in the southern suburbs of Amsterdam. It’s an unlikely location for any kind of office, particularly a financial one, and I can’t help but think that, knowing their target has access to $14,200, the gang are planning a swift kidnap.

My suspicions are aroused even more when Tao asks me about my own family – whether I am married, have children, where I live and work. It might be nothing more sinister than an attempt to make conversation but it might equally be an attempt to extract information that they could use later to work out who to approach to raise a ransom. Caught off-guard, I don’t have time to lie and end up giving answers that are at least half truthful.

I am keen to have a further meeting and perhaps get to see other members of the gang but, despite racking my brain, I can’t think of a single way to move things forward without putting myself in great danger. I consider asking if I can see the security-company offices for myself but dismiss it as foolhardy and pointless.

Tao looks at his watch again and sighs. It is almost three thirty and the next flight from Luton does not arrive until after six. Tao says that most of the Western Union offices close at five so the business will have to wait until tomorrow.