UNDERGROUND

And another try.

Finally, success.

Mendax reached one of the contact names for a company in Perth. Valid number, valid company, valid contact name. He cleared his throat to deepen his voice even further and began.

‘This is John Keller, an operator from OTC Minerva in Sydney. One of our D090 hard drives has crashed. We’ve pulled across the data on the back-up tape and we believe we have all your correct information. But some of it might have been corrupted in the accident and we would just like to confirm your details. Also the back-up tape is two days old, so we want to check your information is up to date so your service is not interrupted. Let me just dig out your details . . .’ Mendax shuffled some papers around on the table top.

‘Oh, dear. Yes. Let’s check it,’ the worried manager responded.

Mendax started reading all the information on the Minerva list obtained from Pacific Island, except for one thing. He changed the fax number slightly. It worked. The manager jumped right in.

‘Oh, no. That’s wrong. Our fax number is definitely wrong,’ he said and proceeded to give the correct number.

Mendax tried to sound concerned. ‘Hmm,’ he told the manager. ‘We may have bigger problems than we anticipated. Hmm.’ He gave another pregnant pause. Working up the courage to ask the Big Question.

It was hard to know who was sweating more, the fretting Perth manager, tormented by the idea of loud staff complaints from all over the company because the Minerva account was faulty, or the gangly kid trying his hand at social engineering for the first time.

‘Well,’ Mendax began, trying to keep the sound of authority in his voice. ‘Let’s see. We have your account number, but we had better check your password . . . what was it?’ An arrow shot from the bow.

It hit the target. ‘Yes, it’s L-U-R-C-H – full stop.’