This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Vlasta Črčinovič Krofič
PHISHING
Chapter 1
Jože Koren, just another ordinary 60-year-old with a spring in his step, shoe size ten and a high forehead, was pushing his bike from one mailbox to another. He mainly delivered junk mail comprising offers from various retailers. There were fewer postal letters every day. Love letters, messages and invitations were now a part of the virtual world, social networks and mobile phones. It was the same with the bills. The service providers and suppliers issued electronic bills, which didn’t land in his mailbag.
Every now and then, he rang the doorbell at a customer’s apartment:” Delivery to sign for!” He lived for such moments. He stopped at the front door and waited. The recipient, usually Fani, took her time. She enjoyed chatting with him and sharing everyday problems. “Aren’t you a wee bit early today? Please excuse my dressing gown and rollers. I was a bit of a couch potato last night. You know, the matchmaking wedding reality show. It all just seems so fake and phony. Tie the knot with a complete stranger? Not me,” she kept chattering while stroking her hair mischievously. As she bent forward slightly, her robe opened at the neck, revealing her nicely preserved cleavage.
Jože smiled at her, abashed. His moustache tickled his lower lip, he suddenly felt hot. Perhaps he even blushed a little. He briskly said goodbye with an excuse: “I still have a lot of work to do today.” The lame excuse was just a quick way out as he had only a single letter in his mailbag. He picked it up and took a deep breath. No stamp, no postmark. “How reckless!” he ranted. He read the recipient’s name: Jože Koren, 2 Garden Street. “Nonsense,” he muttered. “What on earth …? That’s me!”
He fiddled with the letter, turning it over to read the sender’s name, but the envelope was blank. He sniffed it to detect a possible scent, like perfume or almonds, to help him identify the sender. No luck; the letter only smelt of the sandwich he had hurriedly stuffed into his mailbag. His suspicions were growing. “What if it contains a bomb or something even more threatening, like flesh-eating bacteria?” Should he take it to the police or call forensics? He was shaking like a leaf, barely able to stay on his feet. He kept saying to himself: “I have no enemies, I am a kind-hearted fella and brave to boot. No way am I going to let this letter frighten me.”
He opened it, his hands still shaking. Inside, he found a tiny piece of cardboard with a short note.
Tonight at 11.50pm, we will be phishing in the basement. Don’t tell anyone! Come alone!
Chapter 2
Friday afternoon dragged on like Monday. Jože moved from the chair to the sofa and back to the chair again. He had no appetite whatsoever. He was already gripping his third can of lager. The anonymous letter was still making him feel uneasy. He pondered who the unknown sender might be, asking himself over and over how the hell that letter with no stamp or postmark had ended up in his mailbag. Perhaps it was a scam. It wouldn’t be the first time that work colleagues had pulled a prank on him. They had slipped in a fake letter from a secret admirer amongst the mail, and once there was a message saying that he had hit the jackpot. He knew the lottery message was a hoax; frittering money away wasn’t his thing. He chuckled that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. He did, however, seriously consider the letter from a secret admirer.
It suddenly dawned on him: he could ask his neighbour Veronika for advice—the woman who hosts a late-night TV tarot show. Supposedly, lots of people turn to her for help when they are in trouble. Like a charged battery, he jumped up and, still in his slippers, headed to his downstairs neighbour. He gently pressed on the doorbell and waited. Nothing happened. The door remained closed. He rang the bell again, but this time curtly and with determination. He pricked up his ears and paid close attention to the sounds on the other side. The door creaked, and Veronika appeared on the doorstep. She didn’t reply to his greeting; she just raised her left eyebrow, pouted her juicy lips and made a soft gesture with her right hand, welcoming him in. She sat him down onto the Spinalis and Jože nearly fell off that ergonomic chair that kept on rocking with each little movement he made. Veronika sat behind the table covered with colourful crystals, picked up her tarot cards and started shuffling them. There was tension in the air, the silence thickened. Jože began: “Veronika, I am here to see you.”
Veronika shot him a nasty look, so he shut up. She shuffled the cards some more and finally placed them on the table in piles of five and seven. All of a sudden, she spoke with a deep voice, the kind that would come from a barrel: “Name and date of birth.”
“Jože. The 26th of April 1960,” he muttered, his voice trembling.
She reshuffled the cards and rearranged them. “What is troubling you?” she asked.
“Fish, I’m supposed to catch fish!” he stammered.
She smiled: “Fish! It’s the second time today that someone’s mentioned fish. Let’s see what the cards say. Fishing is good for the nerves, it’s calming. Fresh air is beneficial for health. Eating fish is healthy as that type of food lowers blood cholesterol. One should consume it at least once a week.”
Jože became impatient: “What about the letter? I got a letter!”
“Letter, letter,” the fortune teller repeated. “If it’s not to do with bills and bad news, then letters are perfectly fine.”
Jože had had enough of this. He stood up and quickly said goodbye. He trudged to his flat, went straight to the fridge, grabbed beer number four and fiddled with it. He suddenly noticed a coin under the table. Of course, the coin will know the answer. He shouted out with joy, picked up the two-euro coin and flipped it high towards the sky. Tails, let it be tails, he exclaimed. What he got was heads.
Vlasta Črčinovič Krofič, Phishing, Inks on Watercolor Paper, 2023
Chapter 3
Jože sat on the sofa with one leg tucked under him, took off his slippers and stared at the clock. He counted the pendulum swings to relax. His vintage cuckoo clock had been passed down from generation to generation. At the top of every hour, the cuckoo would peek out through the skylight and cry cuckoo once, twice, three times … ten. As a child, he couldn’t stand that noise, especially in the early morning hours when he only wanted to sleep soundly. This clock was worse than a rooster. Roosters crow only at dawn, yet that clock makes a racket every bloody hour.
Jože made a wry face, thinking that in a little while, the secret of ‘’phishing in the basement’’ would be revealed.
Suddenly the placid silence was interrupted by the sound of a mobile phone. It was his mother. He’d rather give that a miss. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat and answered the phone.
“Jožko, why you don’t come to see me?”
“I’m tired, mother. I’m working from early morning to night.”
“Still handing out that junk mail!”
“Yes,” he replied in a monosyllable. Those were his favourites. He normally didn’t pay much regard to what his mother said. He let his mind wander and sympathised with her grumbling now and then.
“I’m inviting you to Sunday lunch. Will you come?”
He accepted before he had even fully realised what she had said.
“Lojzka will be there too. She’s alone, like you. I told her to drop by.”
Jože pricked up his ears. Classmate Lojzka, a singleton of his own age, still on the lookout for the man of her dreams. His nostrils brought up the memory of the scent of that irritating perfume she wore; lily of the valley. He liked that scent, though. Whenever he picked those flowers for his mother’s birthday as a child, his heart was filled with joy. But when it came to Lojzka, he found that same smell annoying. Not to mention how she gazed at him, her forced giggles, unbuttoned blouse and wide hips. He shuddered in discomfort and tried to come up with a plausible excuse.
“No can do!” he decided. “I’m going fishing with my friend.”
“Fishing? You were never fond of fish!”
“Well, I won’t be doing it for real – if any fish bites, I’ll set it free.”
“Like a goldfish that fulfils your desires,” his mother said sarcastically.
“I need to calm my nerves,” he said firmly. “And you and Lojza can enjoy your woman-to-woman chit-chat.”
His mother didn’t give in. She kept pushing and convincing him until he finally promised to pay her a visit.
He checked the time. Three minutes till the session in the basement. He jumped up from the sofa, marched into the hall, tripped over a shoe, hit his head on the half-open cupboard, fell to the floor and passed out.
Jože wasn’t sure how long he had been lying in front of the door for a minute or two, he wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been. When you lose consciousness, you’re not aware of much. Likely, it hadn’t been too long. He slowly opened his eyes and touched the bump on his head. “Darn!” slipped from under his breath, then he levered himself up. He was still clutching the coin in his left hand. Heads, of course, the coin was showing heads; therefore, he had to go down to the basement. “Be prudent, don’t bolt,” he told himself as he slowly made his way to the basement. On the ground floor, he bumped into his neighbour Franci. An extinguished cigarette was stuck in the left corner of his mouth; he was absorbed in thought.
“What’s up neighbour, can’t sleep?” he addressed him.
“Erm …,” Franci scratched his bald head. “I got this letter … um, I don’t know. Anyway, I don’t care much for fish.”
“You got it, too?” Jože was astonished.
They exchanged a glance, winked, raised an eyebrow and rushed to the basement. They came to a halt to catch their breath. The basement stank of mould, rotten potatoes and carrion, and an abundant curtain of cobwebs hung from the ceiling. At the neighbours’ council meeting, there had been more than two discussions about the cleaner looking after the basement, but she refused to do it since that was not a part of her job description. Besides, she was afraid of mice. However, the basement was often subjected to pest control, so there were no live mice squeaking around.
Jože didn’t need or like the basement area. That place was strange to him. He couldn’t get his bearings there. He rented out his storage unit to an unknown tenant. This space made him anxious, so he was glad to have Franci around. They proceeded from one unit to another through this labyrinth of underground corridors as if they were exploring the catacombs. Jože regretted not having brought some string to mark the path they had taken, like Theseus in the Minotaur’s labyrinth.
All of a sudden, Jože spotted a blue light at the end of one of the passages. With a trembling hand, he beckoned Franci to follow him. They approached the source of the light at a snail’s pace, holding their breath, leaning onto each other for moral support. Drops of sweat spattered their forehead and neck. They stopped in front of the door. Franci wanted to enter, but there was neither a handle nor a lock. They shrugged and turned away; it looked like the exploration had come to an end. But at that moment, the door opened. Jože and Franci stayed put, blinded by the unexpected light.
Chapter 4
The servers were whirring, the modems were blinking, the screens displayed iridescent colours. An invisible force pulled Jože towards the computer while Franci remained in front of the doors as he had stepped on super glue. The doors closed silently after Jože entered the room as he slowly and cautiously walked over to the keyboard. He pressed ‘’enter,’’ and the screen came to life. Create your account, it said, and Jože followed the instructions. He filled in all the columns: username, date of birth, address, bank account number, password to access his computer, mobile number, email, and password to access his email. He also created a new one to be able to access this game. After successfully registering, he pressed the button to start the game: The Beauty Hunt. The screen displayed mermaids that were moving about and he was supposed to catch them. The girls were artfully dodging the hook. Jože was completely dazzled by the game. The night was almost gone when he finally managed to catch the mermaid. The girl lost her tail and turned into an absolute beauty; more than that, she became the woman of his dreams. She licked her lips and winked at him flirtatiously. Jože’s throat went dry as if he was trekking in the desert. He could use a sip of lager, Zlatorog, or at least Union would do, but he had no can to hand.
The beauty pointed a finger at herself and said: “Lejla.” Then she pointed her finger at Jože, and he immediately understood that it was his turn to introduce himself.
“Jože Koren, postman,” he quickly replied.
She winked at him again. Suddenly, oriental music started playing, and the beauty performed a belly dance. During the enticing dance, she took off her veils and exposed her luxuriant curves to Jože, who was staggered. Her skin was shimmering silvery. Her long blonde locks spilled down her back like the Savica waterfall. D cups were tightly wrapped around her breasts that remained static while her glutes shook wildly as she performed bewitching hip drops. She was the fairest of them all, prettier than Scheherezade and more mysterious, too. She walked over to the dance pole and busted another groove. She climbed up the pole, slid down, hooked her leg around her neck, and did a wrap-around. Jože felt awkward. He blushed thinking of his mother, who had raised him to be a decent boy and had, to this day, protected him from naughty girls. He got highly engaged in the scene before his eyes and quickly forgot all about his mother. She was the kind of woman he wanted to have by his side every day.
“Where can we meet?” he asked her.
She paused, looked at him sorrowfully and whispered: “Come back tomorrow at the same time!”
Lejla put her tail back on and swam across the screen. The image faded, the door opened and Jože wandered up the stairs to his apartment, feeling as puzzled as ever.
Day after day, the story repeated itself. Jože persistently chased after mermaids. Sometimes he caught Monika, sometimes Eva. Such a lovely bunch they were – one more beautiful than the other! Nightlife and the lack of sleep were starting to catch up with him. Our protagonist was becoming irritable, and some letters ended up in the wrong mailboxes.
It wasn’t long before the head of the post office wanted to have a word. He gave him a pretty good rebuke: “If this is too much for you, just say so! There is a long line of people dying to take your place!”
But that was not the case. Jože knew there was a staff shortage because young people didn’t want to work as postmen. He kept his mouth shut and swore to make up for the sleep with afternoon catnaps. Like any New Year’s resolution, this promise was doomed to fail. No afternoon nap could replace a good night’s sleep. Jože was restless and impatient. He was full of expectations, yet the hours until midnight dragged on like UHU glue.
But at night, his spirits lifted. He became more relaxed. He undressed, just like the mermaid did. At first, he got rid of his upper garments, and later on, the rest, even those more intimate, until one day – without even realising it – all of his clothing was off.
You can imagine what followed. On the last day of the month, he found a letter in his mailbox. This one had no stamp, either. The recipient’s name, Jože Koren, was put together using the glued cut-out letters from a magazine or tabloid. But the content of the letter was way more shocking than the envelope.
“Phishing, EUR 15,000. You have three days to deposit the money into your account. We have all your data. If you don’t pay, your naked photos will go viral. Don’t involve the cops!”
Jože collapsed onto the paving stones under the mailboxes. “I’m such an idiot! I fell for it! I gave them all my private details and the password to my account!” He turned pale, there were spots in his vision, as if a swarm of flies had got into his eyes, and a cold sweat ran down his back. “How on earth can I get my hands on so much money?” he asked aloud in disbelief.