African dreams

Making easy money, and working out a contingency plan

by Jerry Fraser

I get a lot of mail at work, and because others have done my job over the years, not all of it is addressed to me. I am always opening letters that bear someone else’s name.

So I didn’t think twice when I opened a letter to my predecessor a month or so ago, but I was chagrined to find an apparently personal letter signed with a ball-point pen.

I’d quickly have put it back in the envelope and forwarded it to the addressee had it not been for the words “strictly confidential,” typed in bold across the top.

“Might as well see what it’s all about,” I thought.

The writer identified himself as Dr. Frank Mbeki of Cape Town, as in South Africa, “a senior manager in the accounts and equity department with the South Africa Mining Corporation.”

I smelled money, as in gold, diamonds, and lots of Kruggerrands.

Sure enough, I was on the scent. It seems that Dr. Mbeki wanted the assistance of my predecessor — let’s call him Mr. Smith — in redeeming a 21-year-old investment now valued at $15 million, or as he put it, “Fifteen Million United States Dollars.”

Mr. Nielsen never lived to reap the rewards of his foresight, having died tragically of heart failure in 1987. Unable to locate any heirs or successors of Mr. Nielsen’s, and having determined that his only known relative, a sister, died in 1989 in Australia, Dr. Mbeki wanted to move the money out of South African limbo and into his checking account, as near as I could figure. This is where my predecessor came in, although I’m not sure why. Dr. Mbeki wanted to “transfer these funds” to a Western country, naming Mr. Smith as the beneficiary.

For allowing the money to be transferred to his bank account, Mr. Smith was to receive 25 percent ($3.75 million) plus an additional five percent ($750,000) to cover “incidental expenses.”

Wouldn’t you know it? In the two years since Mr. Smith left here I have carried on, overworked and underpaid, while he has pondered career options, raised pheasants, and otherwise enjoyed the good life. I grovel for merit increases, and he hits the jackpot — via my mailbox.

Well, that’s the way it goes. Forward the letter, I thought, and forget it. Perhaps in good time Mr. Smith would buy me a beer with some of his contingency money.

For those of you who haven’t seen my office, it is routinely subject to a certain level of clutter. This is a result of the work cycle, which builds toward a monthly deadline then subsides somewhat. I generally muck the place out during the post-deadline slack period, then things pile up again.

And so it was that the other day that I came upon Dr. Mbeki’s letter underneath an old pizza box. My best intentions notwithstanding, I had neglected to forward it to Mr. Smith.

I hope I haven’t cost Mr. Smith his great expectations, but if I have, I may be able to help. Providence most recently has chosen to reward my own diligence, sacrifice, and noble intentions, and I’m not going to forget my friends.

Early this week I received an email from a Joseph Ossai, a civil adviser from Nigeria who is among a group overseeing the “windup” of a $30 million petroleum trust fund. Things are a little shaky in his neck of the jungle, but he has heard good things about me as a “business person” and wants to move the money, which was generated by “over-invoicing” of trust-fund contracts, into a “good and reliable company . . . or better still . . . a fresh account.”

For my assistance I will receive a 20 percent commission — not as generous a rate as Mr. Smith was offered, but since we are talking about twice as much money, my end works out to $6 million. I also get five percent for contingencies.

And friends, that is just the tip of the iceberg. Two days later I was contacted by Dr. Johnson Vuyo, another South African. Dr. Vuyo has a problem: As a senior official in the Department of Works and Housing, Dr. Vuyo supervised the awarding of shopping mall and public housing construction contracts and somehow wound up with $60.5 million under the office floor, so to speak, that now must be transferred out of the country. As luck would have it, Dr. Vuyo heard good things about me over cocktails at the American embassy in Pretoria, and has offered me 25 percent — $15,125,000 — to open an account into which the funds can be transferred. Needless to say, Dr. Vuyo has tagged on an additional three percent — $1.8 million — to help with any expenses I incur on the way to Fleet Bank’s Wells Plaza branch.

And just yesterday I heard from Richard Moses, a 29-year-old in Sierra Leone who is seeking asylum in Senegal. Poor devil; his father was killed in one of those civil wars the Africans are always having. Fortunately, he managed to escaped with a diamond weighing just over eight pounds. The problem now: “securing a trustworthy foreign personality to help us transfer the diamond,” which by my reckoning should be worth at least $128 million.

This is where I come in. For my trouble, I will receive 10 percent of the proceeds of the sale of the diamond, not to mention two percent for any contingencies.

I’ll say one thing for these Africans. They don’t nickel and dime a guy over contingencies.

Jerry Fraser can be reached at cfraser@maine.rr.com.