The OrphanAGE, Vol. 1.37
First Lines
After sixty-three days at sea, sixty-three days of feverish waiting, on the night of June 8th, we saw strange lights zigzagging over the water. ~ Paul Gauguin, Noa, Noa
Gauguin, Kahlo, Munch, McNeill Whistler…. To be an artist, one caught up in the exoticism of travel, is to often keep a journal.
One of the most exquisite, nervous lines I’ve ever encountered belonged to Brad Willoughby. He would sit at the bar sketching in his pocket notebook if he had it with him. On the back of napkins if not. In pen or pencil, thoughts and snippets of poetry to the side. Later, he’d go back, adding color wash. They were bawdy, whimsical, prurient, even. With palm trees, fish and birds sprouting from corners of rooms, they often spun into the surreal. Bradley penciled the very first Pit Poster for the open mic readings at Prospero’s … an illustration, sadly, now lost. I recently happened upon a series of snaps from one of his journals, taken as we sat in the store on afternoon, working through a more ‘official’ collection. He wanted to capture his life: given to travel, and friends and the loving of women. Enclosed are a smattering, a snapshot, really from a vast collection. One day, perhaps…
Joining Bradley's work is a new ditty from the pen of our poet and publisher, the laureate of cellblock 39, Jason Ryberg. It celebrates the corner where Bradley spent so much of his time. Rounding out the issue, from a watering hole just down the block: a new installment in Bob Moore’s Calvin Trillin-esque series of wry, incidental shorts.
Peace,
Dante
In This Issue
- Poetry by Jason Ryberg
- Journal Art by Bradley Willoughby
- Fiction: Wrong Number (3rd Installment of Call Me) by Bob Moore
The Candle That Burns Twice
as Bright Burns Half as Long
by Jason Ryberg
The heavy, heady
mixture of marijuana,
tobacco and clove
cigarette smoke hanging like
a secret meeting
of friendly ghosts in the dank
basement air beneath
the ancient hard wood floorboards
of Prospero’s Book-
store (on the north-west corner
of 39th and
Bell in KC / MO), the
peach-colored streetlight
outside, a flurry of June
bugs and moths, like so
many communication
and spy satellites
forever circling, round and
round it, each in their
own distinctive and manic
trajectories, and
the stars above and beyond
them, slowly burning
their way, so very, very
brightly, through the black
outer shell of the night sky
(as they do both night
and day, by the way, whether
we can see them or
not), until that time when they
eventually,
inevitably consume
us, as well, or, just
fade away into the dark
void of absolute zero.
Journal Art
by Bradley Willoughby
Bradley Willoughby, Paper, Pen & Pencil, Watercolor
Wrong Number (Part 3 of Call Me)
by Bob Moore
It had been a few weeks since Herndon had first encountered the ad from the man who wanted to help. It was the same small block ad in the “Marketplace” section of The Pitch the local alternative newspaper. The ad read:
Call me. I may be able to help.
Having phoned the number a couple of times trying to discover who the guy was and his motivation, Herndon now found himself imagining vivid scenarios. He pictured him as a Tony Robbins type character, a motivational maven, larger than life; a take charge personality with a verve and tenacity that was borderline evangelical…
I’m here to empower you to take control of your life, to turn your obstacles into opportunities…
He quickly dismissed the thought. The image just didn’t pair with the amiable voice on the phone. What kind of a guy just wants to help anybody that calls…I’m not buying all this altruism. He forced himself not to dial the number.
* * *
Cooper’s phone rang. There was nothing on the caller ID to indicate he had spoken to this party before. As usual, he answered simply by saying, “Hi.”
“Hello, umm, who am I speaking to?” a matronly voice asked.
“I’m Cooper.”
“Hello, Mr. Cooper, my name is Blanche. I saw your ad and I’m hoping you might be able to help me.”
That’s why I’m here Blanche. How can I be of assistance?”
“Well, Mr. Cooper, my son is on vacation in London, and he sent me a message from his friend’s phone that his iPhone had been stolen.”
“How unfortunate”
“Yes, well, I didn’t think too much about it, but then yesterday, I got a message from Apple telling me I needed to unhook his phone from Apple, or something like that. It said that Tyler’s financial information might be stolen. Mr. Cooper, I don’t have any idea how to do that, and I certainly don’t want Tyler to be hacked...isn’t that what they call it? Can you help me?“
“I most certainly can try. “
“Mr. Cooper, this is all so frustrating. I’m a 67-year-old widow. I don’t know anything about this technology stuff, I’m just worried for my son…and how would Apple know to contact me?”
“Blanche, please don’t work yourself up. I’m here to help you. Let’s just concentrate on getting me up to speed on the facts. OK?”
“OK, Mr. Cooper.”
“First, what is your son’s name?”
“Tyler. He’s twenty-six and he and his friend went to London to celebrate graduating from dental school.”
“You must be very proud, Blanche”
“I am.”
“And when will Tyler be returning from London?”
“The day after tomorrow, Friday.”
“Blanche, I used to live in London, and I am familiar with this trend of stolen iPhones. I recall reading that something like 100,000 are taken each year. How long has Tyler had his phone?”
“I got it for him after my husband passed, about ten years ago.”
“That makes sense. You asked how Apple knew to get in touch with you, well, when setting up a new iPhone it asks owners to enter a number in the event the phone is lost. I suspect that your son gave your number, back when he was 16 years old. That is likely how you came to be contacted.”
“I see.”
“Blanche, I need to do some research on stolen phones. Can I suggest that I speak with your son when he returns on Friday? That will give me time to do some checking, and he can give me more details about his phone. How does that sound?”
“If you think that is best.”
Cooper was hedging his bets. He knew very well that it was not Apple who’d sent the message to Blanche. The phone was already in the hands of some criminal enterprise, most likely based in China, that was trying to monetize it. Unless and until those who possessed it could persuade the owner to unlink it from their Apple account, the phone was only worth a few dollars for spare parts. Unlinked, it was worth ten or twenty times that. Well worth a few emails and texts to attempt to persuade owners to do their bidding.
The techniques typically started with a friendly message like Blanche had received, imitating Apple customer service. Cooper knew the messages would become more aggressive as time wore on. Suggesting they wait for her son’s return he hoped would buy him time he needed to deal with someone more tech savvy than Blanche and less likely to be intimidated.
Cooper’s hopes went out the window the next day when Blanche phoned back.
“I just got a message from someone who said he just bought Tyler’s phone and, well, let me read it to you: I can see all his messages, emails, credit cards, bank information and personal information. Oh my, Mr. Cooper, whatever should I do?”
Cooper did his best to calm Blanche, “iPhones are very secure. I don’t believe that someone has accessed Tyler’s information. This individual is just trying to scare you.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you Mr. Cooper, he is doing just that.”
“This is why I suggested we wait until Tyler returns.” He was making every effort to avoid telling Blanche that the worst was yet to come.
“Please try to stay calm. Tyler will be back tomorrow. Have him call me and I can catch him up on the situation.”
* * *
The next morning Cooper’s phone rang.
“Mr. Cooper, my name is Tyler Winslette. I understand you have been speaking with my mother about my stolen phone.”
“That’s correct. But, just to be clear, my first name is Cooper — your mother has this endearing way of referring to me as Mr. Cooper.”
“Regardless of your name, why you are involved with my mother on this issue?”
“Of course. She contacted me. I provide free assistance to people with problems. I have been trying to walk her through what typically transpires when this sort of thing happens.”
“And by this sort of thing I assume you mean my phone being taken? Cooper, forgive me for being blunt, but my phone being stolen is really not a big deal. I have already purchased a new one.
“I understand, but I fear your mother does not. You see, in my experience those in possession of your phone will engage in some pretty aggressive behavior to induce someone to unlink the phone from their Apple account. Your mother has only just started receiving thinly veiled threats. I promise they will become more aggressive. You need to prepare your mother for that.”
“And you know this how?”
“I have dealt with people who have experienced the problem before. Also, I lived in London and I myself was a victim.”
“I see. And what do you expect will be their next move?”
“They have already tried the ‘we’re from Apple and we want to help’ approach and the ‘innocent buyer’ tactic. Those are both pretty innocuous. From here, they usually engage in more aggressive tactics, including threats of violence to both you and her. “
“These threats are meaningless, right? They are likely on the other side of the earth.”
“True, but it is your mother that will be the recipient of the threats. I can already tell she has been pretty rattled by the initial stuff.”
“You are right about that.”
“Tyler, my advice is to keep talking to her about the fact that these criminals are literally oceans away and there is no way they can cause either you or her physical harm. The only damage they can do is emotionally and that is only if she allows them to.”
“That makes sense. Thank you for assisting my mother in my absence. She and I are grateful. Can I ask you something rather personal?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you do this?”
“Oh, like so many others, you are curious about my motivation.”
“Yes.”
“Well, let me just say atonement is good for the soul.”
“Thank you, Mr. Cooper,” said Tyler wryly.
* * *
The next day Cooper was surprised to see Tyler’s name on his caller ID.
He explained that Blanche, with his encouragement had been doing everything she could to ignore the threats. They were increasing in frequency as Cooper had warned. One threatened that Tyler’s dental career would be over before it even began. It took everything Tyler had to calm Blanche about that, but then they went too far…
“These scum bags threatened her Sheltie, Winnie. She’s crazy about that fucking dog.”
In that moment, it was clear that he was dealing with a new iteration of scammers. They were displaying a level of sophistication he had never witnessed. They had clearly been able to parlay the phone number into a broader cache of information about its owner and his family and acquaintances. Most likely by data mining social media accounts and using one of several services on the dark web. There was no other explanation for how the perps could know that specific level of information.
“Let me get back to you Tyler, I need to familiarize myself with something.”
Cooper spent the morning reviewing the social media postings of both Blanche and Tyler Winslette. Two things were immediately obvious: Blanche was indeed crazy about her Sheltie and Tyler had certainly been a dental student.
Both Blanche’s Facebook and Tic Tok pages were awash with images of Winnie and Blanche engaged in all manner of dog and master activities: days at the dog park, visits to the groomer, frolicking in the backyard. Tyler’s posts were like a review of the annual dental school curriculum.
It was clear that anyone who spent even a few minutes with either’s social media accounts could easily see where to target their threats. Cooper surmised that equipped with Tylers name and phone number and Blanche’s number displaying on the phone’s “lost mode”, that the perps could determine last names and location via the phone number’s area code to construct a detailed profile of both parties. Threatening Tyler’s dental career and Winnie’s safety were low hanging fruit.
* * *
Several days later, a startling new development occurred. Blanche received a promotional mailing from a dog walking service. It was a colorful piece with illustrations of all manner of puppies sporting angel wings. The headline read, “Let me take your Little Angel on a Heavenly Walk” and attached was a dog tag shaped like an angel with the name Winnie imprinted on it.
Now, even Tyler was freaked out.
“You don’t have to be a genius to see that this is a threat…take your little angel on a heavenly walk, are you kidding me?!”
Cooper could only image how Blanche was reacting. “How is your mother taking this?”
“She has essentially locked herself in her bedroom with Winnie. I’m surprised she hasn’t demanded I start tasting Winnie’s dog food to make sure it isn’t poisoned. I mean I get that these guys are theoretically on the other side of the planet, but this,” he said referring to the dog tag, “is right here in Leawood. How the hell did they manage this? Multiple death threats directed at, my mother and now my mother’s dog. This is just too much. I’m calling the cops.”
“I understand, but I have to tell you the police are very unlikely to do anything except to point out that someone on another continent is not likely to follow through on these threats.”
“Another continent? This is postmarked from Overland Park. I don’t care; I have to do something.”
“Do me a favor,” Cooper asked. “Take a picture of the mailing and text it to me.“
* * *
Cooper examined the mailing in detail. It was not the pinnacle of creativity, just clip art, poorly written copy and a cheap tin tag shaped like an angel. As poor as the execution was, Cooper was concerned by the impact the piece was having. The Winslette’s were properly freaked out.
He called the phone number on the mailer. A pleasant young woman answered and Cooper introduced himself. “I’m calling about a promotional mailing you sent Ms. Blanche Winslette about your dog walking service.”
“Oh my,” she said excitedly, “when the company said they guaranteed quick results, I didn’t expect a call the next day!”
Company?” Cooper asked.
“They promotion company. They sent me a sample mailer with a prospects name, address and their pet’s name and said that if I sent it, I was guaranteed to get a quick response.”
Cooper was more impressed with the perps than ever. Not only had they secured all the data about the Winslette’s, but they had also located a dog walking service in their neighborhood to act as an unsuspecting accomplice.
After confirming the young woman’s name, Sadie, and that of her business, Pawsitive Steps, Cooper explained how bad actors from China were attempting to extort Ms. Winslette into releasing a stolen iPhone so they could sell it for a substantial profit.
“Oh my God,” Sadie exclaimed. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
* * *
Tyler’s interaction with the police was predictable. Just as Cooper had suggested, the police agreed that the threats were “worrisome,” but noted there was little they could do. They reiterated that since the threats likely came from outside the country, there was no way they could be prosecuted under the Threatening Communications statutes, even if they could determine who had sent them. When Tyler showed them the “angel mailer” the police dismissed it as little more than a coincidence and were not inclined to come down hard on Pawsitive Steps for offering a discount on dog walking services.
“Well, the cops behaved as you suggested,” Tyler reported back to Cooper. “But I have dealt with the situation. I decoupled my phone from my Apple account.”
Cooper replied, “So, the bad guys win again.”
“What do I care if some scumbag in China gets a couple hundred bucks for my lost phone? At least my mother is out of her bedroom.”
Cooper listened quietly.
“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to be a dick. You have been nothing but kind to me and my mother. I admit that I thought you were some sort of opportunist looking to take advantage of her when we first spoke. You are just a hard man to figure out.”
* * *
When Rudy arrived at his namesake establishment later that afternoon, he was surprised to see Cooper in his usual spot with something other than his usual beverage.
“A martini, no wine?” he asked.
“It’s been that kind of week.”
“Well, what have you learned?”
Cooper thought for a moment, then replied, “Have you noticed that help seems to always arrive when it is no longer needed.”
Rudy chuckles, “I’m pretty sure that is Murphy’s Second Law.”