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Mafia Tech Support
Mzilikazi writes "A story from Wired about performing tech support for the mob, mainly focusing on gambling. Some interesting information is presented about P2P applications. Frankly it sounds like fiction to me (you can already imagine the movie being made -- 'I Was a Hacker for The Mob'), but the story is interesting nonetheless and shows that if you're skilled and determined but have a flexible moral compass, there's a lot of job opportunities out there." I started reading it for the mob references, but kept on reading for the details of how to run an illegal gambling organization.
CodeFellas
Smart mobs? Fuhgeddaboutit. Not till they hired me. Now they're getting a secure P2P bet-processing system. A mafia hacker tells his story to Wired.
By Simson Garfinkel
On a traffic-clogged street in midtown Manhattan - sandwiched among the bars, massage parlors, and cheap diners - there's a small glass door that leads to my office. The building has no doorman, no front desk, and no video surveillance cameras. We don't go in for that type of security. I walk through the door, down a long corridor to an elevator. When I press the button, the elevator starts with a jump, and a bell on the third floor rings. Now the boys upstairs know that someone's coming.
The bell is a warning: It could be the police, so get ready to run. But even if the cops come, they'll be waylaid by an imposing lock - giving my friends time to scramble down the fire escape to the street below.
F. Scott Schafer
Of course, I've got a key. I unlock the door and enter another world. Inside is a small-scale gambling operation the likes of which you'll find scattered all over the city - if you know where to look. I scan the room to see who's there. Most days, there are three middle-aged men sitting at desks, talking on phones so old that they could have been used on the set of Lou Grant. We're talking first-generation touchtone sets with big square buttons that light up when a line is in use.
Today there's just Tony. He glances over his shoulder and nods at me. "Let me check," he mutters into the phone. He peers intently at the screen of a rather beat-up PC and eyeballs the odds for one of today's baseball games. We track four casinos in Las Vegas and set our odds by averaging theirs. The casinos might be offering a $150 return on a $100 wager if, say, the Red Sox beat the Yankees. Tony scrolls down and gives him the line. There's a pause. Then he smiles. The caller likes the odds. "OK, how much?" Tony scribbles a few numbers on an index card and hangs up. The tape recorder shuts off. Like a brokerage house, we record every conversation - just in case there's a dispute with one of our customers. Of course, you never hear about those disputes: The entire transaction between Tony and the caller is illegal. If he accepts four more bets today, he's in felony territory, an offense punishable by up to three years in prison.
Tony looks up. "That's the first call I had all morning," he says. A few more mouseclicks and he's back to solitaire.
Everyone thinks they know what the mob is like. It's something you learn from watching The Sopranos and GoodFellas, something that involves Joe Pesci, baked manicotti, and a dead guy in the trunk. But that's not what I've seen during my two years working for organized crime. My sense is that the mob works a lot like GE or Time Warner. It's more Jack Welch than John Gotti.
When a so-called mobster gets caught, the cops always lie, and the journalists believe what they're told. The cops will say that millions of dollars move through offices like mine, and that all of the money goes to some big crime family. It makes great headlines, but it's laughably untrue. Perhaps we move millions of dollars over the course of a year, but we keep only a small percentage of that - "the juice." The rest gets paid out as winnings, at better odds than you'll find in any legitimate game of chance.
Then there's the misconception that if you don't pay your debts, the mob will break your legs. I've seen that on TV but never in real life. Sure, some agents make their collection runs with a bodyguard, but wouldn't you want some muscle around if you were carrying tens of thousands of dollars in cash? Breaking people's legs is bad business. If somebody doesn't pay their debts because they're broke, maiming them isn't going to put cash in your bank account. Still, the threat of pain remains a valuable deterrent. Tell your customers that you're breaking people's legs and there's no reason to actually do it. Truth is, when people don't cover their debts, we put
Gee that's a pretty impressive resume
READY.
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Well the whole advantage of going with the mob (or doing other illegal jobs, like selling weed) is that there are no taxes. You sell the weed for cash, you use the cash to buy groceries etc, and I'm guessing you somehow get enough money in non-cash form to pay rent and bills.
BEEP BEEP BEEP. Ok, so this guy works for an illegal betting operation that could land him in jail in order to avoid paying taxes, but even after taxes he would make more money in the private sector (50k vs 150K = 75k after all taxes) and not having to worry about bending over to pickup the soap. Yeah, i am sure that is really happening. However, it make a good story.
----- There are two kinds of people in this world, my friend; those with loaded guns, and those who dig.