|
B, D
, and
E
all sound sort of alike.)
If I called a bank and was asked for code A when I only had B and E, I’d
just say, “Oh, listen, I’m not at my desk right now. Would you settle for B
or E?”
These conversations were always so friendly that the bank employees
would have no reason to doubt me, and because they didn’t want to seem
unreasonable, they’d usually just agree. If not, I’d simply say I was going
back to my desk to get code A. I’d call back later in the day, to talk to a
different employee.
For Wernle, I tried this first on Bank of America. The ruse worked, but
there was no customer with Joseph Wernle’s Social Security number. So
how about Wells Fargo? A little easier: I didn’t need a code since Danny
Yelin, one of the investigators at Teltec, had a friend named Greg who
worked there. Because the phone lines were monitored, Danny and Greg
had set up their own personal code, which they now shared with me.
I’d call Greg and chat with him about going to the ball game that
weekend or whatever, then say something like, “If you want to join us, just
call Kat, and she’ll get a ticket for you.”
“Kat” was the flag. It meant I wanted the code of the day. He’d answer,
“Great. Is she still at 310 725-1866?”
“No,” I’d say, and give him a different number, just for the confusion
factor.
The last four digits of the fake phone number he had given me was the
code for the day.
Once I had the code, I’d phone a branch and say I was calling from
branch number so-and-so: “We’re having some computer issues, it’s so
slow I can’t get anything done. Can you look something up for me?”
“What’s the code of the day?”
For my Wernle search, I gave the code and said something like, “I need
you to bring up a customer account.”
“What’s the account number?”
“Search on the customer’s Social,” and I provided Wernle’s Social
Security number.
After a moment, she said, “Okay, I’ve got two.”
I had her give me the numbers of both accounts, and the balances. The
first part of the account number indicated the branch where the account was
located; Wernle’s were both at the Tarzana branch in the San Fernando
Valley.
A call to that branch with a request to pull Wernle’s “sig card” (signature
card) put me in position to ask a key question I had been longing to have
answered: “Who’s the employer?”
“Alta Services, 18663 Ventura Boulevard.”
When I called Alta Services and asked for Joseph Wernle, I got a chilly:
“He’s not in today.” It sounded suspiciously as if the next sentence might
have been “And we’re not expecting him.”
The rest was made to order in this era of “your banking information at
your fingertips.” With Wernle’s account number and the last four digits of
his Social in hand, I simply placed a phone call to the bank’s automated
system and had it feed me back all the details I could want about his
banking transactions.
What I learned only deepened the mystery: Joseph Wernle often had
funds flowing into and out of his accounts totaling thousands of dollars
every week
.
Wow—what could this mean? I couldn’t imagine.
If he was running all this money through his bank account, I figured
maybe his tax return would give me some useful clues about what was
really going on.
I had learned that I could get taxpayer information from the Internal
Revenue Service easily enough, just by social-engineering employees who
had computer access. The IRS complex in Fresno, California, had hundreds
of phone lines; I’d call one at random. Armed with foreknowledge based on
my usual brand of research, I’d say something like, “I’m having problems
getting into IDRS—is yours working?” (“IDRS” stands for “Integrated Data
Retrieval System.”)
Of course her or his terminal was working, and almost always the
person was gracious about taking time out to help a fellow employee.
This time, when I gave the Social Security number for Wernle, the agent
told me his tax returns for the most recent two years available on their
system showed no reportable income.
Well, that figured—in one sense, at least. I already knew his Social
Security records showed no earned income. Now the IRS was offering
confirmation.
An FBI agent who paid no Social Security and no income taxes… yet
routinely had thousands of dollars passing through his bank accounts. What
was
that
about?
How does that old line go, something like, “The only things certain in
life are death and taxes”? It was beginning to sound as if, for an FBI agent,
the part about taxes didn’t apply.
I tried to call Eric and found that his new line wasn’t working any longer. I
tried his second line; same story.
A social-engineering call to the rental office in his building produced the
information that he had moved out. No, he hadn’t moved to a different
apartment in the same complex, like the previous time—he had moved out
completely. The rental lady looked up his information for me, but as I
suspected, he had not left a forwarding address.
Back to DWP Special Desk once again. This was a long shot, but a place
to begin. I asked the clerk to look up any new service for last name Wernle.
It took her only a moment. “Yes,” she said. “I have a new account for
Joseph Wernle,” and she gave me an address on McCadden Place, in
Hollywood.
I couldn’t believe the Feds were lamebrained enough to keep using the
same name on the public utilities accounts for a guy they were trying to
hide.
I had Eric’s pager number. That number still worked, and it told me which
pager company was providing him with service. I called and tricked an
account rep into revealing the specific number that made Eric’s pager
distinct from every other: its CAP (“Channel Access Protocol”) code. Then
I went out and bought a pager from the same company, telling the clerk that
I’d dropped my previous one in the toilet while I was peeing. He laughed
sympathetically—he’d obviously heard the story before from people it had
really happened to—and had no problem programming the new one with
the CAP code I gave him.
From then on, whenever someone from the FBI (or anyone else) paged
Eric or sent him a pager text, I would see the message on my cloned pager,
exactly as it appeared on his.
What were the odds of my intercepting two telephone conversations in
close succession and hearing about myself
Do'stlaringiz bilan baham: | 
