The first of the week is always a slog through the e-mail that has slipped over the electronic transom — the bulk of it a mix of sundry pitches and come-ons.
Monday brought something different.
The e-mail came from “Deadly Killers,” which I figured was a local rock band seeking coverage until I read the cheery opening sentence:
I am very sorry for you, is a pity that this is how your life is going to end as soon as you don’t comply. As you can see there is no need of introducing myself to you because I don’t have any business with you, my duty as I am mailing you now is just to KILL you and I have to do it as I have already been paid for that.
In an instant it dawned on me. The garbled verbiage and fractured syntax could mean only one thing: Those wily sons of a late Nigerian oil minister had dreamed up a new Internet scam.
Sure enough, the Deadly Killers said they were hired to kill me — Someone you call a friend wants you Dead by all means — but would spare my life for $15,000.
I knew right away I wasn’t dealing with the brightest Deadly Killers. Given the state of the dollar, a brainier outfit would demand euros.
On the upside, the extortionists thoughtfully offered to let me pay the fee in two easy installments. They would also send me a tape recording of their client so I could use it to “take any legal action,” which I guess beats a toaster oven from the bank.
I read on.
WARNING: DO NOT THINK OF CONTACTING THE POLICE OR EVEN TELLING ANYONE BECAUSE I WILL KNOW, REMEMBER, SOMEONE WHO KNOWS YOU VERY WELL WANT YOU DEAD AND A GOOD LOOK IS OUT YOU AT MOMENT.
I have no idea how they plan to dispatch me, but I am reasonably sure they aren’t going to beat me to death with their copies of Webster’s Dictionary or Strunk & White’s “The Elements of Style.”
Finally, this threat:
DO NOT COME OUT ONCE IT IS 7:PM.
Great, I thought. Not only is my life in jeopardy, so is the cocktail hour.
What a predicament.
This being winter, I can’t park my lovely bride on the front porch with a shotgun, though that strategy worked dandily last summer when we had a brief infestation of door-to-door petitioners.
There was only one course of action: Consult my friend Griff, who knows something about shady characters.
I asked him to meet me after work. We rendezvoused at Wyman’s, a dark semi-Irish joint near Cheesman Park. I showed Griff the letter. He read it and handed it back.
“Any advice?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sit on the other side of the bar from me.”
Given that I have helped the man move furniture, I expected better.
“Nothing personal,” Griff said. “But I’ve got no interest in being part of collateral damage. I’m from Cleveland. I’ve seen it happen.”
I went home and studied the household finances. Sending cash was out of the question, especially with vacation season approaching.
So Tuesday morning I e-mailed a reply: Dear Deadly Killers, do you take Visa?
I will let you know how this turns out.
William Porter writes Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Reach him at 303-954-1977 or wporter@denverpost.com.
