by Ray Clark
Gardener followed her. “Are you sure there is no one we can call for you?”
Rosie was struggling to breathe, let alone string a sentence together. She reached across the worktop and grabbed her mobile. On the contact page she found Michelle’s number. She handed the phone to Gardener.
“Please,” she sobbed, pointing to her best friend’s number.
Gardener passed it to Reilly, who immediately stepped out of the kitchen.
“I’m really sorry to land all of this on you, Mrs Henshaw, but there are two further things I need to ask.”
Rosie simply nodded, unable to speak.
“Did the email come through to your phone?”
Rosie nodded.
“May we take it? Once we analyse it, it might tell us who sent the email and where from?”
Rosie nodded and buried her head into a kitchen tissue, sobbing and shaking. Reilly came back into the room, nodding. “She’s on her way, Mrs Henshaw.”
Rosie nodded, finally managing words. “And your second question?”
She could see the compassion in Gardener’s eyes. He really did not want to ask the obvious question. “Oh, God, please don’t ask me to identify him.”
Rosie collapsed in a heap.
Chapter Forty-four
Anthony was sitting in a late-night café in Headingley. His day had been brutal. After finding a chemist he had dyed his hair, swapped his glasses for contacts, worn a fake moustache and bought a leather jacket and jeans.
Thirty minutes previously he had been over to Beckett’s Park again but swiftly left after he had spotted what he suspected were police, more than likely searching for the phone he had disposed of yesterday.
He was sitting at the back of the room, completely out of earshot of everyone else, staring at the untouched latte in front of him. Not that he had a great deal to worry about. The other people in the café were students and he may as well not have existed for all the attention they were paying him.
His head was a mess. Who the hell was picking them off? James? Zoe? Rosie? Someone else altogether – someone he either didn’t know or hadn’t considered?
The café owner was cleaning and setting a table in front of him. He stared at Anthony but said nothing. At the front of the shop a group of excited students cheered and shouted, and squealed with laughter at something on one of the phones.
Anthony picked up his own phone. It was no good. He needed to speak to someone, and Rosie was probably the only person. He hadn’t been able to connect with Zoe or James, nor had he received any reply to his email at the safe address.
The line was answered after two rings but Anthony didn’t recognise the voice. He stared at the phone, making sure the number was right.
“Hello?” the voice repeated.
“Is Rosie there, please?”
“I’m sorry, she can’t come to the phone right now.”
Anthony had no idea who he was talking to but it must be someone who knew her. “Is she okay?”
The line grew silent, the reply taking forever. “Who are you, please?”
“My name is Anthony Palmer, I’m a friend of her husband, James.”
“I’m really sorry, James died earlier today.”
Chapter Forty-five
Gardener was dog-tired. So was his team. He knew it. They knew it. But there was a real buzz in the air as they entered the incident room, giving him the impression that some good news had broken.
Gardener was leaning against the wall, with his partner, Reilly. He grabbed a bottle of water and a Bounty bar from a table. Healthy eater he may have been but he’d always had a weakness for the popular coconut and chocolate bar. The Lord only knew what Reilly was eating but he was using both hands.
Dave Rawson grabbed a coffee and a sausage roll.
“I think you’d better hold your horses there, my wee friend.”
Rawson glanced at Reilly. “What are you on about?” questioned Rawson, laughing. “Don’t know why I’m asking that, I understood him better with a mouthful of food.”
Reilly ignored the jibe. “I’m not sure I can let you have anything to eat there, son, not after your earlier misdemeanour.”
“Oh, come on, where’s your sense of humour?”
“Another thing I don’t have, according to you.”
“Come on, boss.” Rawson glanced in Gardener’s direction. “Have a word with him.”
“He might have a point, Dave, you were a bit hard on him.”
“I see, like that, is it? Well, if you don’t feed me I won’t have enough strength to impart the important information.”
Gardener glanced at Reilly. “He does have a point.”
“I’ll let it go this time.”
Once the team had filed in – including Briggs – and were seated, Gardener nodded and signalled he was about to start. Shona Pearson slipped in before Gardener started talking.
“Good to see you’ve all made it back. Judging by the air of excitement I gather we have something further to work with.”
Dave Rawson stood up, finished a swig of tea and opened a thick file in front of him, spreading papers around.
“Me, Julie, Sarah and Shona have been with cyber since we finished this afternoon. I think David Hunter made a lot more headway than he would ever be credited for.”
“Do tell,” said Gardener.
“We’ve all known DPA were involved in the hit and run, but why and how was another matter,” said Rawson.
“We also felt that there must have been a track record somewhere about their activities,” said Gates.
“They’ve been conning people since day one,” said Longstaff, “and all of it online, and all of it practically invisible because of their skills.”
“It was the bitcoins that finally gave them away,” said Shona Pearson.
“Yes,” said Gardener, “DI Winter said something about that. He reckoned if you were good enough you could follow the trails.”
“Winter’s team have,” said Rawson. “They’ve been at this longer than we have and they’ve been concentrating on a series of online scams, which is what DPA have been doing from the beginning.”
“That’s what made them the money and gave them the confidence to go large,” said Gates.
“Okay,” said Gardener, “let’s have it.”
“They all had a scam of their own,” said Longstaff, picking up one of the files. “Let’s start with Zoe Harrison, the romance mule.”
“The what?” Reilly asked.
“Romance mules usually fall prey to romance scams, which are all online. They’re deceitful romantic interactions with unsuspecting victims. These fraudsters work to gain the trust and affection of mules. They then use that relationship to commit fraud. The majority of the time, the victims haven’t a clue they’re involved in a fraud scheme, or a criminal act, until it is too late.
“Zoe Harrison created fake profiles using stolen photographs and false names on a number of dating websites, social media sites, blog forums, and support groups. She worked a number of victims all at the same time, beginning with contact. Almost immediately she went into private chat rooms and used emails or chat sessions to gain their confidence.”
Gardener sighed, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong?” Rawson asked.
“Who else do we know that did all of this?”
“Robbie bloody Carter,” said Reilly.
“It’s obviously a bigger market than we thought,” said Gardener. He nodded to Longstaff. “Carry on.”
“She usually took three months to form the relationships,” said Longstaff. She acted as if she was in love with them, creating a bond, sharing life stories. She made sure there was a decent distance between them all. In one case she forged a relationship, despite claiming she lived in Eastern Europe. She promised to visit as soon as she could. Once she’d gained their trust, she asked them to receive and transfer money on her behalf.”
“How did she manage that?” asked Colin Sharp.
“She used a variety of excuses,” said Gates. “Experiencing banking-wire issues due to a foreign account, claiming she needed money to pay for a family member’s funeral. Or she claimed she was in the middle of a divorce and needed some assistance pawning jewellery, and having the funds sent through Western Union. In one case, the jewellery the woman received was stolen from fraudulent online auctions, and she unknowingly became a mule in Zoe’s scheme.
“In another she claimed to be military personnel stationed overseas who needed assistance accessing their funds due to being in a war zone. She tricked a fifty-year-old man called Christopher Barlow in the West Midlands into allowing his personal bank account to receive and send money as part of a scheme to finance terrorists.”
“Terrorists?” shouted Reilly.
“I know,” said Rawson, “takes some believing, doesn’t it?”
Reilly shook his head in disbelief.
“According to a leading newspaper, the victim believed he was corresponding with an affluent businesswoman in her early forties whom he met on an online dating site. The woman claimed she needed to pay some of her employees in the UK, and would only trust payments coming from a UK bank account. Once Barlow agreed, she began to wire large sums of money into his account and he would prepare and send cheques on her behalf. He was eventually charged with a criminal offence because he did not report the illicit incident to the police. There are literally hundreds of instances that Winter’s team believe she was involved in but we don’t have all night.”
“Okay,” said Briggs, “take us quickly through what the others were involved in, otherwise we’ll be here till Christmas.”
Pearson took up the conversation. “Michael Foreman was involved in a WFH scheme. Work-from-home schemes are fake job offers that are used by fraudsters and mule herders, to entice witting or unwitting individuals into providing bank account details for the purpose of receiving an Automated Clearing House deposit or counterfeit cheque. They are then instructed to electronically transfer funds to a third party, often in another country.
“Mules are also told to make transfers to the third parties through a money-service business, such as Western Union. Occasionally, mules will deliver cash in person to representatives of the crime group. This type of transfer usually involves a mule who is a willing participant in the illegal scheme.”
No one interrupted. It was late, they were tired, and Gardener felt it best if he simply let his team say what they had to, and then try to deal with the aftermath.
Pearson continued, “WFH offers are usually cleverly created to look like legitimate companies. Sometimes they use recognisable trademarks, or logos, or names to create apparent legitimacy. Fraudsters often use a variety of methods for potential victims such as spam emails, job search sites and online classifieds or social media.
“The job application process for some opportunities even requires applicants to be interviewed by a company representative, and maybe even sign an employment contract. Individuals who succumb to these types of fraudulent job offers are often financially distressed due to extended unemployment or other financial hardship.
“Even though the job offers will seem suspicious to many, those who feel they don’t have anything to lose will give it a try. Unfortunately for them, most mules are only used once and will never see a commission. There is also a significant chance of being arrested and being a victim of identity theft later on, because the fraudsters have all the personally identifiable information they need, such as the mule’s national insurance number.
“Here’s an example: a woman was on Indeed looking for a job when she found a WFH administrative assistant opportunity. She applied for the job, and that’s when things took a strange turn. She hadn’t even accepted the position when a package containing a cheque for £3,450 arrived at her door. Along with the cheque, the envelope contained detailed instructions to deposit the cheque into her personal bank account, keep £400 for herself and send the rest via two separate MoneyGrams to different individuals in West Africa. She realised it was fraud and reported it.”
“How come Michael wasn’t caught at that time?” asked Reilly.
“Couldn’t trace him,” said Longstaff. “These guys were far too clever with computers, clever enough to completely dispose of a trail as they were laying it.”
“Christ,” said Reilly. “I think we’re in the wrong job.”
“I think you’re right, Sean.”
Rawson took the reins and filled them in on James Henshaw. “He was the real wizard behind the company. He dreamed up most of the scams, but he was also the brains behind the computer viruses.”
“What did he start with?” asked Gardener.
“His was the Secret Shopper Scheme.”
“Christ,” said Reilly, “I’ve never even heard of this stuff. Is this what they have to contend with in cyber crime?”
“Every day,” said Pearson.
Rawson continued. “The secret-shopper mule usually falls prey to a secret-shopper scam, which is similar to the WFH scheme. It’s an employment-based scheme designed to lure victims with offers to earn extra money for shopping at certain stores, or having the opportunity to keep the goods that are purchased in exchange for ‘evaluating’ the customer service, among other things, while visiting the store.
“Like the WFH scheme, these scam advertisements and websites are designed to look legitimate and blend in with other genuine secret-shopper programs. Likewise, recruitment is performed in a similar fashion using spam email and employment site advertisements.
“The scams often include evaluating a money-service business such as Western Union or MoneyGram. Shoppers will receive a counterfeit cheque that may be worth several thousand pounds. They will be instructed to cash the cheque and use their local Western Union or MoneyGram to send proceeds to a designated third-party account. The shoppers are told to keep a certain amount for themselves and email the fraudster their rating of the service.
“The Better Business Bureau issued a warning of one such scam business called Pinecone Research. This is an example of how fraudsters use legitimate-looking businesses to trick victims, since Pinecone Research Panel is an actual company.
“James targeted a number of people with the secret shopper scam including many abroad. One such victim was a British Army veteran called Gerry Russell, who found securing full-time employment difficult after he’d completed his military career. Whilst using the internet, he saw an advertisement for a mystery-shopper evaluation job and applied.
“Russell’s assignments were easy. He would receive cheques via bogus parcel companies and deposit them into his personal account. He was instructed to purchase prepaid cards with the funds from Green Dot, a provider for prepaid Visa or debit MasterCard cards. Once Russell had the Green Dot cards, he would call his manager and provide the card numbers and the amount. After the second ‘assignment,’ his bank withdrew £3,000 to cover the cost of the counterfeit deposits. Russell reported the incident to his local police station, but there was little that could be done.
“Henshaw made a serious amount of money using the scam. He was also clever enough to cover his tracks, and because his machine ran through a number of servers it was almost impossible to detect.”
“This reads like a Grisham novel,” said Gardener.
“Doesn’t it?” said Pearson. “Wait till you hear about Palmer.”
Gardener glanced at the clock on the wall. “What did he do?”
“He ran the lottery and inheritance scam. Palmer would inform his victims that they have won a lottery or a sweepstake, or are set to receive an inheritance from an unknown deceased relative. He would initiate the scam through a number of ways, such as email, telephone, letters, faxes and social media. Once victims responded to his communications, he then required proof of identity to facilitate the payment transfer.
“In reality, he was gathering information to potentially steal the victim’s identity. The next thing he did was mention legal issues, ta
xes, insurance, probate fees or delivery costs. Such a scam was a form of the advanced fee scams, though the difference was that Palmer used the victims as unsuspecting money mules.
“One of the ways he did it was to offer to assist potential money mules with paying the fees mentioned above. He informed the victims that the payments were coming from legitimate clients. What they actually did was come from other victims’ accounts. He then wired funds into the mule’s account; on rare occasions, he used stolen or counterfeit cheques. Once the mule had received the funds, Palmer instructed them to keep a portion and send the rest to another account, effectively turning his victim into a money mule.
“A recent article in The Yorkshire Press reported of an elderly couple in Wellington Hill in Leeds. They were informed that they had won an international sweepstakes. Anthony requested fees in advance, and the couple agreed. Soon after, more and more sweepstakes mailers came in, and the couple kept engaging Palmer, believing they were winning.
“Once the old couple was deep in debt, Palmer offered to hire them as representatives for the bogus sweepstakes company he had created. Large sums of cash began to arrive at their home, where they would repackage them and mail them out. They would receive commissions for their work as their payment. Sadly, they were the couple that had lived next door to his parents, which proved Palmer’s incapacity to feel or become emotionally involved, despite knowing you.”
“Has anyone spoken to these people?”
“No,” said Anderson, “but Frank and I will pay them a visit tomorrow.”
Longstaff added a little more. “In another case, a forty-five-year-old man living in Middlesbrough, Barry Cooper, is facing money-laundering and theft charges after he allegedly fell prey to Palmer’s Jamaican lottery scam. After he lost all his money, Palmer offered him a deal. The man could work as a mule for the cyber criminals, and they would help him recover his money. The victim was so desperate that he agreed, thus moving from victim to perpetrator.”
“It never ends, does it? Someone needs to ring the Middlesbrough police in the morning, see what they can tell us about that,” said Gardener. “How the hell did they work all this out?”
