The Wide World of Rich, Paralyzed Iraqis, Part IV

Dear Jonny,
Please send me your direct phone number,so we can talk.
Mrs Fareeza

Uh-oh.

This was odd. A bit scary.

Let's read it again.

Dear Jonny,
Please send me your direct phone number,so we can talk.
Mrs Fareeza

But what if I don't want to?

I consulted friends and co-workers about this and we decided that giving out a work number, even Thomas' work number, would be a bad idea. So I needed a plan....

...a plan.

Plan. A plan is a part of a larger project. A project. A project is something that someone does. Does. Conjugate of "do." To do something, one needs money. Money. One can procure money from an ATM. ATM. To get money from an ATM, one much punch in one's code. That's it!

A code!

So I wrote this email:

Mrs Fareeza

I can't do that. The CIA or the FBI could be listening to us at any time, and it would be dangerous to talk over the phone about matters involving money, especially money coming from Iraq. I am starting to believe that you are trustworthy, based on your perseverance and hard work to make this happen, so I think that we can finish this transaction via email.

We need to be very careful. I have made you a new account. The address is marthaaluvsitraw@yahoo.com and the password is "prisioneroespanol". Please sign in with this information. You will be Martha, and I will be sending you a list of things to get at the store. I will be your husband. I will then email you quickly from my new account, which the Feds won't know. The email will contain the subject line "things to buy at the store." That will be me. From that point on, we will have to speak in code. Here is the code:

dollars = pounds of roast beef
escrow service = cellophane wrap
account = lettuce
10 = 4
100 = 5
22.5 milliion = 7
car = truck
cat = dog
up = down
your bank = grocery store
my bank = freezer

For instance, I will say: "Martha, please go to the grocery store and get me those 7 pounds of roast beef for the party tonight with the Haverfields. Make sure that they wrap it in cellophane before you put it in the freezer. Oh, and go uptown to pick up the cat. And make sure that she doesn't start barking as soon as she gets home."

I will mean: "Fareeza, please go to the bank and get me those 22.5 million dollars. Have the escrow service deposit it in my bank. Oh, and go downtown to pick up the dog. And make sure that she doesn't start barking as soon as she gets home."

This way, the FBI will think that we are talking only about a routine trip to the supermarket. I will email you soon once I set up these two addresses.

Also, I will be throwing in other information to throw the Feds off of our scent. Just ignore it. Only pay attention to the code.

Over and out, fellow freedom fighter!
Johnny

Mrs. Fareeza was to be Martha Anderson, regular housewife, and I was to be Sam Anderson, heavyweight bodybuilder and star astronaut. I sent this email and another "coded" email from my "secret" account (bklynbridge2007@yahoo.com - is anyone grasping the significance of these addresses/passwords?) and waited. I'll spare you the details of the coded email; it doesn't make much sense anyway. Best thing is, I was able to access Mrs. Fareeza's "secret" account at the same time, because I had created it. About 12 hours after I sent her the email, I saw that she had accessed the account and read the code, yet I received no response. So I wrote her another email:

Fareeza

I see that you did not respond to my latest message. I am beginning to doubt your sincerity in this business transaction. Could this be an elaborate joke played on me? I hope not. I was willing to help, but now I am not so sure. I hope that you can convince me otherwise, so I can help another paralyzed person and her 15 year old son with hepatitis.

Yours,
Johnny

I finally did receive a response. Hilariously, it was an email from the Martha Anderson account that I had created for Mrs. Fareeza, to the Johnny Faux account. Mrs. Fareeza had breached security! Martha and Sam Anderson would have to be summarily executed.

At this point, the joke was falling apart, because Mrs. Fareeza was completely and utterly confused. In order to allay my fears, she sent me a picture of a box of money and this document:

Thanks!, I thought. I haven't seen this yet!

So here I was, back at square one, except that Mrs. Fareeza was as confused as ever, Martha and Sam were dead, I now had two sets of official documents, and I was getting kind of bored.

What's next? Stay tuned for part V!