Geek Mafia

by Rick Dakan

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  things we've got to decide. It's a little more complicated than I thought at first, but that's ok. Still nothing we can't handle."

  "We've got three main teams working this. I'll give the bad news first. Most of you guys are going to be e-slaves for this one." There was a chorus of groans from the group. Chloe had already explained this term to Paul. "E-slaves" were the ones who would spend hours and hours selling all the forged comics on e-Bay. It was a thankless but definitely necessary job and since they wanted to pull their plan off quickly, they'd need as many people focused on selling as possible. "I know, I know, it sucks. But you get the same share as everyone else."

  "Team two is going to be net-heads. There is, it turns out, a computer security aspect to this caper. I've been poking around on the Comics Rating Group's Web site and they have a database up there that lists every single comic book they've ever graded. So, every time they grade Punisher #1 or whatever, they add it to the database. That way, collectors know how many of every issue there are out there. It's a way to discourage, you know, people like us." This got a laugh.

  "We're going to need to get into that database and be able to make some changes at will. Getting into it shouldn't be much problem. I know you guys could probably hack it clean right now if you wanted to, but we're going to get inside the door, so you might as well wait until that's set up. Once we're up and running in their system, Paul will let you know what books we're forging and you can eke up the database numbers gradually, so as not to tip anybody off. We're also going to need you to fiddle with some numbers in their inventory system as well, but I'll get to that later."

  "And that leaves our main team. We get to go on a road trip. The company's offices are down in L.A. and we need to get a good look around at how they do things. We've taken apart a bunch of these sealed and graded books and it's a fairly specialized process. It'd cost more than it's worth for us to set up our own facility to seal these things up the right way, so I think we're going to have to use the machines in the actual company, which should be fun."

  "The road team will be me, Raff, Bee, and Filo. Paul will be coming along as well. We're heading out tomorrow - as soon as these fakes get printed." She took Paul's samples from him and passed them out to the crowd. "Everyone take a look at these and see if you can find any faults or flaws. The more eyes on this, the better. They look great to me, but what the fuck do I know?" The group looked at the fake covers, most of them pretty carefully, some of them only cursorily.

  "As of now, we're full sail ahead, so everyone needs to act accordingly. No leaks. No chit-chat with outsiders.

  Everyone focus on your jobs and we can make a nice little score. Capisce?" Everyone nodded. "Ok, kiddies, break up into groups. Kurt, pick yourself four hackers. After we get inside their offices and plant the Trojan Horse you need to start poking around anything and everything related to this CRG - but keep a low profile!

  Popper, babe, you get the e-slaves. Sorry girl, you had all the fun on that hotel job last month. Take everyone who's left, pour a round of shots, and start setting up those false fronts for the e-Bay accounts, mail forwarders, too, ok?"

  "And Paul? Put your latex gloves on and get ready to have some fun. You and me are making sweet, sweet counterfeit comics for the rest of the night." She grabbed him by the hands and yanked him up off the couch and into her arms. "Come on, big boy, Bee's gonna give us a hand."

  They spent the rest of the evening and most of the next day making their fakes, as promised. Paul had gotten the process down to a science while making his test runs, so the work went pretty fast. The resulting fake covers then got cut down to size and stapled onto the comics insides that Paul had selected from the boxes and boxes the Crew had brought him. They had particular fun mixing classic X-Men covers with worthless Archie interiors and plastering Batman's visage over Richie Rich. "They're both spoiled trust fund babies," Chloe had Chapter 11

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  pointed out.

  Paul had gone to the trouble of washing out the covers on some of them in Photoshop, making them appear faded by the sun and time. Not so much that it would seriously compromise the value, but enough to make them more believable. Bee spent her time with some small tools and a cup of tea. She was adding other signs of aging to the "older" comics - staining some with the tea. Using the tools, she made small stress fractures and folds. Bee loved detail work like this, and Chloe had to keep pushing her to make just a few changes and then keep going.

  They put the new fakes into plastic sleeves for safe keeping, and over the course of the next sixteen hours or so they filled out three long boxes of comics, each holding over a hundred forgeries. An hour later, Raff and Filo pulled up with an extended cab van they'd gotten from somewhere. They loaded the comics up, along with some electronics gear, sleeping bags, and a cooler full of food. Then they were on the road, Raff and Filo up front, driving them south to LA while Chloe, Paul, and Bee crashed in the back. One thing for sure, thought Paul, Chloe and her friends seldom wasted much time.

  That night they set up shop in a pair of motel rooms located about a mile from the Comics Rating Group's headquarters. They were all in one room going over the plan for the next day. An arsenal of electronics lay spread out on the bedspread, as Raff and Bee explained how each piece worked. But Paul wasn't really listening. He was thinking about his role in the plan and the fact that it wasn't as significant as he wanted. To be honest, he wasn't even sure why they'd brought him along. This was his plan after all and he wanted a more central part.

  "Can I make a suggestion?" asked Paul, interrupting Raff, who shot him a surprised look. "Why is Raff going inside posing as the collector? No offense man, but you don't know anything about comics."

  "That's why you're here, Paul, to help me out."

  "Why don't I just go in instead?" said Paul, his stomach suddenly swirling. Is this what he wanted? Apparently so.

  "You want to go in?" asked Chloe. "Why?"

  "Well, I just think it makes more sense. I speak their language, you know what I mean? Besides, from what you've said, there's not much to it. I basically go in and be myself, they show me around and stuff. I just think there's less of a chance of me rousing suspicions or whatever."

  "You've never done anything like this, have you Paul?" asked Raff. "It's great that you're helping us and all, but what if you get nervous? What if you suddenly realize that you're about to commit fraud and you chicken out? We're not going to have a second shot at this - not without REALLY arousing some suspicions."

  "I hear what you're saying, but I'm telling you guys, I can do this." Paul turned his attention to Chloe. "I can do this. I'm the best man for this job."

  Chloe laughed and reached over and tousled his hair. "Ok, champ, you got it. We'll let you go in. That means we gotta get your ass checked out on some of this equipment here. Raff, this is cool with you right?"

  "As long as he doesn't fuck up it's cool with me, yeah," said Raff, smiling as well. "If it means I don't have to spend an hour babbling with some comics geek, that's great."

  "Ok then," said Chloe. "Let's start again from the top, this time we've got Paul as the face."

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  "You mean like on the A-Team?" said Paul, remembering the character of "Face" from the old 80's action/adventure show. "I loved that show."

  "Yep," said Chloe. "Except we're not blowing anything up. At least not this time."

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  Chapter 12

  The Comics Rating Group's offices sat in the front corner of the Redfield Industrial Park, just one of many identical buildings in the area. The door had an electronic lock that employees put their pass cards up against to gain access. Since he didn't have such a card (yet), Paul had to tap lightly on the glass in order to catch the receptionist's attention. She politely buzzed him in from her desk. He had an appointment to meet with the head grader, who would be out in just a minute.

  The man's na
me was Kevin Carrey, a well fed fellow in a blue polo shirt with the company logo on it and khaki pants. He shook Paul's hand warmly while Paul glanced briefly at the security card hanging from his belt.

  "Welcome to CRG, Mr. Feldman. I'm Kevin Carrey, Vice-President of Customer Relations."

  "Pete Feldman. It's nice to meet you," said Paul. "I appreciate you letting me stop by in person. I know that's a little unusual."

  "We try to be as accommodating as we can, especially for new clients. Would you like the grand tour?"

  "That'd be great."

  The main grading rooms were divided into three different sections. The largest contained five graders who worked on comics published since the 1980's, the lion's share of the company's business. The two smaller sections dealt with silver age (60's and 70's) and golden age (30's to 50's) comics respectively. Carrey also pointed out a restoration room where damaged comics could be brought back to their former glory. The office had an informal feel, with music blaring from stereos and walls covered with comics related posters. Probably a fun place to work if you like comics, thought Paul.

  But the tour's highlight - indeed one of his main goals in coming inside in the first place - was the sealing room. Here they took the graded comics and sealed them in two layers of plastic. First a flexible plastic sleeve that fit snuggly around the comic. Then a hard plastic outer case that included a hologram and the comic's title with the grade printed directly onto the plastic. They used heat to melt the plastic and make the seals, so there was no way to open the final product without breaking the seal and thus eliminating the veracity of the grade.

  Paul took a long, good look all around this room, including up at the security cameras mounted high on the wall. The digital video camera hidden inside the thick, black glasses he wore transmitted everything he saw to the rest of the Crew, who were in a van around the corner. Paul insisted on watching the entire sealing process from beginning to end twice, which his guide found a little boring, but he accommodated Paul's request.

  "Very cool," said Paul. "You've got a pretty neat set-up here. How many of these do you do a day?"

  "We average around a thousand a day. We're actually still a little understaffed - we get more books in per day than we grade out, but we can push favored customers to the front of the line, especially if they do a lot of business with us."

  "Speaking of which, shall we talk about my little collection?"

  "Certainly. Come on back to my office and we can talk there."

  Paul suddenly put his hand on his pants pocket where there was the unmistakable bulge of a cell phone. "Oh shoot, I've got a call. Do you mind?"

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  "No, please, go ahead."

  Paul pulled the phone out and turned it on, pretending to talk to someone about a real estate deal as he turned his back on Carrey. In fact, the phone wasn't a phone at all. It was a little device that Bee had cooked up and then put inside a cell phone shell. Paul made a good show of wandering about the room, talking angrily with his realtor. Mr. Carrey stood by silently, pretending not to eavesdrop.

  "Listen. I'm in a meeting," said Paul. "I have to go. I'll call you back. Just get it done ok? Just. Get. It. Done."

  Paul hit the button to end the call, in fact activating Bee's device. He strode over to Carrey, the phone in his hand still.

  "I'm sorry about that. Let's get going." As Paul stepped close to Carrey he let his arm carrying the cell phone swing forward until it almost touched the security card hanging from the vice-president's belt.

  The fake cell phone worked very much like the electronic security card scanner on the company's front door.

  Like the door scanners, all it needed was to be within an inch or two of a security card to read the signal of the card's microchip. Bee's invention recorded this signal automatically, and would allow them to make a duplicate card later. Paul looked down at the phone's digital display as he followed Carrey back towards his office. It said "Call Complete," signifying that the card capture had worked. Two jobs down, one to go.

  They sat down in Carrey's spacious office. It lacked the color and character of the rest of the facility, but had five very valuable, sealed and graded comics hanging tastefully on the wall. Paul wasn't acting when a whistle appreciatively at the copy of Amazing Fantasy 15, which was the first appearance of Spider-man and worth several hundred thousand dollars.

  "Wow. How cool is that?" said Paul, pointing to the image of the web-slinger on the wall.

  "Yeah, isn't that great? That's the first thing I bought once the company was up and moving. It's only graded a 5.4, but it's still awesome to have, you know?"

  "Definitely. I don't have that in my collection, but I've got some keepers, that's for sure." Paul contorted himself awkwardly in his chair in order to remove a CD in a paper sleeve from his other pocket. He pointed at the computer on Carrey's desk. "Does that thing have Excel on it?"

  "Of course," said Carrey, taking the disk and putting it in his computer. "You have your whole collection on this?"

  "Yep, I actually don't know much about computers, but I hired some college kids to inventory my whole collection and record it all in a big database thingy. It took them all summer. They also weighed my comics -

  turns out I have a literal ton of comics. Over 2000 pounds."

  "That's pretty impressive. I've culled my own collection down in the past few years, just a couple thousand that I really want to hang on to."

  "I'm planning on doing the same thing, but first I wanted to get four or five hundred of them graded and sealed by you guys, just the most valuable ones you understand." At $30 a pop for grading and sealing comics, Paul had just offered the man $15,000 worth of business. It wouldn't make him their largest customer, but it was enough to command some respect. "That disk is just a list of the books I think would be the most likely candidates for grading. If you could look it over and get back to me with your suggestions, I'd really appreciate it."

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  In fact, the list was just a fiction Paul had whipped up over the course of a few hours. He'd been careful to make sure that only a handful of the books actually overlapped with the ones they'd counterfeited. No sense leaving a list of their forgeries around, even if no one would ever be the wiser assuming the scam went off as planned. The disk had no doubt already accomplished its true purpose. When Carrey had opened the database, he'd also released a Trojan Horse into the company's network. The small program was now hidden away in the system, and would leave it wide open to the hacker team. Goal three accomplished. Time to get a move on.

  "I'd love to go over that list with you myself," said Paul. "But I really have to get going. My real estate agent seems bound and determined to screw this deal up, and I need to make sure it goes as planned." He pulled out his wallet and handed Mr. Carrey a fake business card. "Just give me a call or drop me an e-mail when you've had a chance to go over that."

  "Sure thing Mr. Feldman. We're happy to help you out with your collection. Just glancing at it, it sure looks like you've got some impressive books here."

  "Thanks," said Paul, turning to leave. "Oh, just one more thing actually. Can you just save that file to your computer and give me the disk back? I don't have a copy on my laptop back at the hotel and I'd like to look it over myself a little more."

  "Of course. Just hold on a second." Carrey saved off the file and popped the CD back out, handing it to Paul.

  "There you go, you're all set."

  "Cool," said Paul. "All right, I gotta run. Thanks again."

  "Let me show you out," said Carrey.

  Two minutes later Paul was climbing back into the van. As soon as he closed the door behind him he whooped with glee. "Whoo hooooo!" he shouted. "That was awesome."

  He'd been calm during his whole visit, but as soon as he'd walked out the door his heart had started racing. It was an exhilarating feeling, tricking someone so thoroughly like that. Pretending to do one thing but secre
tly doing something much sneakier.

  Chloe gave him a big hug and a quick kiss on the lips, which was all he thought about for the next few moments as he slapped hands and exchanged congratulations with the other Crew members.

  "Great job, Paul," said Chloe. "You played him like a pro."

  "I almost forgot to get the disk back," he said, handing both it and the cell phone/card scanner over to Bee.

  Raff was already driving the van back towards the motel. "You covered well though."

  "Thanks," said Paul.

  "Hell, I didn't even realize you'd forgotten it," said Chloe. "I thought you were playing it real cool in there.

  Pulling a Columbo on him. 'Just one more thing, sir.'"

  "I don't think he suspected a thing," said Paul, almost panting with excitement and pride.

  "Why would he? Who the fuck would do something this silly but us?"

  Back at the motel they planned for the actual dangerous part. Or, if not dangerous, then at least the part where Chapter 12

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  getting caught was hardest to explain. Bee made a duplicate security card that would get them in the front door. Meanwhile, the hacker team back in San Jose tore through the CRG system, looking for anything and everything that might be helpful. With the Trojan Horse in place, they had free reign over the company's internal network and its Web site. They began to inch up the database figures for the comics they planned to forge. A search through employee e-mails turned up a current alarm code that someone had foolishly sent to another employee. They also had everyone' schedules. It was Friday night, and no one was expected to come in on Saturday, so they should be safe, but they wanted to be out before dawn just in case.

  This next part of the operation belonged to Filo. He was a pretty cool guy, Paul had decided. He hadn't spent much time with him before the trip down to LA, but he'd grown to like the tattooed, shaven headed Crew member. Filo's main skill set was in sculpture and metal fabrication. He was also a gear head, fixing (and maybe stealing) cars in his spare time. He'd spent a good chunk of time examining how the plastic cases went together and watching the video Paul had taken inside the facility, and seemed confidant that he could duplicate the process pretty easily.