Greg’s mother owned the Rustic Crust Bakery and was a regular visitor to the bank. Being on a first-name basis with the CEO of Clement Regional was just as important to her business as was the quality of her latest batch of brownies. You always knew when Greg’s mother needed a bigger line of credit because the aroma of her freshly baked cupcakes filled the bank’s lobby, and the break room was stacked with chocolate chip biscuits. It wasn’t a bribe, it was just the way things were done in Clement.
That’s where Greg got his first job right out of university. He’d earned a finance degree and instead of spreading his wings in the big city, Greg returned home. Clement was where he grew up, where his mother was, and where he’d make his mark.
On a crisp morning in April 1972, Greg entered Clement Regional for the first time as an employee, took his position behind the window, and served his first customer. His mother couldn’t be prouder. Greg had the gift. He’d known many of the customers his entire life, especially since he’d sold bread to most of them at one time or another. He made quick work of learning the ropes. With a steady, respectful job at Clement Regional, a friendly demeanor and a kindly, helpful smile, it wasn’t long before some of his customer’s daughters smiled back at him. However, it was Gabby, the petite loan applications clerk, that he found himself drawn to. He’d make excuses to walk over to her section of the bank, just to be closer to her. One time she caught Greg staring and asked what he was looking at. Without skipping a beat, Greg replied that he was wondering how people get approved for loans. Gabby, sensing an opportunity, invited him to sit next to her while she worked and explained the process. The bank’s CEO, completely misreading the situation, overheard some of the conversation and called Greg to his office. Naturally, Greg thought he was to be reprimanded for fraternizing on the job. Instead, the CEO said that this year hadn’t been good for crops and many of the farmers in the region would surely be stopping by with homemade jams, beer, and loan application forms. This was Greg’s last day as a bank teller and his first in the loans department at Clement Regional. Of course, he had to take Gabby out to dinner for her part in his promotion. She gladly accepted and reciprocated by eagerly helping Greg learn the ins and outs of the job. Greg was just as eager to show her other kinds of skills that required a more private place, like a bedroom, car, or after-hours supplies closet. While infatuated with her boyfriend, Gabby became equally as frustrated at his reluctance to commit.
Greg was going to propose, it just wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t making enough money yet, he said. Gabby quipped that she could offer him a Clement Regional bank loan at favorable terms. Greg stood his ground. So did Gabby. After five years of unfulfilled promises, she left him and Clement Regional for the big city.
Ironically, only a month later, Greg received the promotion he’d worked so hard for. The CEO took advantage of Gabby leaving to reorganize. Greg became the Loans Manager and immediately hired a replacement to fill Gabby’s role. Then he took a trip to Melbourne. He left the bank early one Friday afternoon on the pretext of a weekend reunion with his old university mates. In fact, he’d tracked down Gabby’s address and wanted to square things with her.
It was five thirty in the afternoon and Greg hopped the 64 tram on St Kilda Road, heading for Brighton. As the tram rumbled across the intersection where Balaclava and Hawthorn roads meet, the trolley pole connecting the tram to the overhead wire disconnected. The Tram Conductor jumped into the intersection and guided the pole back into position. Frustrated with the delay, Greg stepped down from the tram’s running board. Out of the corner of his eye, he happened to glimpse Gabby exiting an accountant’s office across the road. Greg couldn’t believe his luck. The sound of Gabby’s clacking shoes on the footpath masked Greg’s approach from behind. He grabbed her elbow and spun her around. Gabby pulled back her other arm, ready to swing her handbag at the assailant. She stopped short when she recognized Greg’s grinning face. Overcome with relief, Gabby agreed to dinner at a nearby Chinese eatery. Greg explained he’d received the promotion and was now ready to commit to their relationship. Gabby asked him if he was proposing marriage and Greg winked at her. They finished their meal with a coffee and Gabby asked Greg back to her house. By morning, she’d agreed to return with him to Clement. She was still unsure if Greg had actually proposed, but she’d fallen for him all over again.
Gabby moved in with Greg. She had her own room, which she only used to store her clothes. She agreed with Greg that the house needed a woman’s touch and she went about purchasing prints and pot plants. Gabby expressed disappointment when she learned her job at the bank was taken, but was secretly relieved that she wouldn’t have a live-in boyfriend who was also her boss. Greg suggested that she speak with his mother who was getting on a bit and needed more help in the bakery.
Gabby couldn’t bake to save her life, though she found she had a talent for running the place. A natural manager, she was adept at navigating the donut and birthday cake business, rarely needing Greg’s mother’s advice. Eventually, Greg’s mother retired and handed the business’ operations completely over to Gabby. Although, on the books at least, Greg was the bakery’s legal owner.
One dreary afternoon, Greg’s mother announced matter-of-factly that she had advanced cervical cancer. This was enough of a push for Greg to finally tie the knot with Gabby. After all, as Gabby reminded him, his mother deserved to be at their wedding.
Seeing Greg’s potential, in early 1986 the CEO consolidated Greg’s role as Loans Manager with that of Investment Manager. The personnel change at Clement Regional couldn’t have been more timely. The crash of ‘87 devastated many of the bank’s customers. Clement Regional managed to survive because of Greg’s steadfastness and resilience in the face of financial disaster. With the blessing of the Board, he’d diversified the bank’s investments enough, which ended up protecting them.
As the manager of both the Loans and Investments departments, Greg was privy to both ends of Clement Regional’s revenue stream. This holistic view was advantageous when the CEO suddenly passed away. He’d keeled over at the Clement ANZAC Day parade and never got up. He was only 60. Some people said it was stress that did him in. Greg was certain it was the hamburgers.
As soon as he heard the CEO had died, Greg immediately sent a card and a fruit basket from the bank to the deceased’s family and closed the branch for a day of mourning. This was the kind of community leader the Board agreed should take over. They unanimously voted to promote Greg to CEO of Clement Regional.
Greg’s mother always said that Greg would go far, yet she hadn’t lived to see her son rise to the top. Gabby bought her husband a tie pin to mark the occasion. Greg accepted the gift solemnly, as if it were a traditional symbol of passing the torch to the new leadership.
Greg breathed life back into Clement Regional. At the top of his list of changes was modernization. Clement Regional catered mainly to farmers and rural folk. The bank hadn’t changed its logo, decor, or method of operations in years. But times change, and Clement Regional needed to keep up with the latest developments. Despite that in the early 1990s few people had email, Greg had Clement Regional’s email address painted in large letters across the bank’s shopfront, directly under the new slogan “Clement Regional: With you now and for your future”.
Greg’s push to infuse life into the bank came at precisely the right time. For the first time in its history, a new bank made a move on Clement territory. Australian Farmers Union was a growing financial institution out of Queensland. While unknown in the cities, the AFU became a household name among the farming communities of the Sunshine State. They’d spread their tentacles to rural New South Wales and had opened a few branches in Victoria. The Clement branch of the AFU was due to open next month. Of course, Clement Regional had objected to AFU’s presence in their territory, although the Trade Practices Act of 1974 said otherwise.
Clement Regional’s Board held emergency meetings to discuss this unprecedented new threat. They didn’t believe that Clement was large enough to support two banks. AFU’s financial resources were considerably greater than Clement Regional’s and the Board was at a loss for how to protect itself. They suggested a marketing campaign, special deals on business and agriculture loans, high-interest savings and investment accounts, and more. In their shock at having to compete for the first time since their founding, they couldn’t agree on a strategy.
Greg knew that none of those ideas would work. Any price-based scheme would be met with equally aggressive pricing by AFU. Greg would have to use his savvy and community standing to ensure customer loyalty. His first step was to meet the AFU’s Regional Manager for a beer at the Dirty Bowler. Greg made sure they sat by the window. The AFU’s Regional Manager took this business drink as a friendly gesture from a well-respected local. He thought that being seen with Greg would show the people of Clement that the AFU was accepted by the incumbent financial institution and give it instant credibility in the market. Greg, on the other hand, knew this wasn’t the case. Taking the AFU’s Regional Manager out for a drink showed the people Clement Regional was strong and unafraid. Next, Greg had himself elected to the Church’s Committee as an Elder. Greg didn’t need to ingratiate himself with the local Church. He’d been doing that for years. Clement Regional was a regular sponsor of Church activities. At last year’s picnic, all competitors in the tug of war, all participants in the egg and spoon race, and all those on the baked goods judging panel wore T-shirts designed and paid for by Clement Regional. Being elected as an Elder was enough to retain loyal customers at the bank. After all, locals would rather be in debt to a community man than to a corporation from Queensland.
The Australian Farmers Union bank had its grand opening on a Monday morning. A new bank in town was as much excitement as the place had seen since the Dusty Bowler Pub and Grill was sold to the Real Estate Agent’s new husband a decade ago. Of course, the Clement Gazette covered the grand opening. Surprisingly, it wasn’t a spectacular event. Aside from AFU employees, few people bothered to turn up.
Greg walked into the new bank to shake the manager’s hand and wish the competition good luck. The pastel colors and bright lighting gave it a modern ‘90s look. Within two weeks, Clement Regional had painted its interior for the first time in a decade, and replaced its outdated decor with an up-to-date style.
The AFU offered some enticing deals and Greg worked hard to counter that with good old fashioned customer loyalty. Greg’s involvement with the Church paid off. Most of his customers resisted the temptation to try out the new bank when it came to loans and investments. That’s not to say that the AFU failed. They succeeded in attracting enough customers to make the branch viable, surprising both Greg and his Board that there was enough business to go around.
Greg understood that competition meant he’d need to up his bank’s game. Clement Regional installed its first ATM in 1995. Until then, there was no need for anyone to withdraw cash after hours. If someone needed to buy groceries and came up short, they’d simply pay what they could now and come back tomorrow with the rest. The Rustic Crust Bakery never even ran a tab. Customers knew what they owed and were always good for it.
Greg paid Dale, a bright, ambitious local teen, to build a website for the bank and proudly displayed the site’s address on the shopfront window, next to the email address. Greg didn’t know how many people would visit the website because in 1996, farmers weren’t exactly at the forefront of technological advancement. The site sported a photo of the branch, the bank’s opening hours (which everyone knew because they hadn’t changed for 40 years), a list of the staff, their job descriptions, and headshots. There was a page for the Bank’s Board of Directors, and an entire page dedicated to Greg, his history at the bank, his philanthropic and community activities, and even that his wife ran the local bakery. Obviously, the AFU had its own competing website - a generic, corporate one, focused on advertising the bank’s services to farmers and the rural communities of Queensland, New South Wales, and Victoria.
When the 20th Century gave way to the 21st, Greg had well and truly solidified Clement Regional in the hearts of the people. He’d been a Church Elder for several years and continued to regularly donate to causes, especially those which put the Clement Regional logo on a plaque, banner, or T-shirt. Greg’s personal philanthropy also didn’t go unnoticed. His proudest moment was the unveiling of the new Church organ that he’d paid for and dedicated on a nice big plaque to his dear departed mother. Greg’s name was etched into the plaque in a very large serif font.
Despite Greg’s successes at fending off the competition (which, by now, had well and truly settled into a status quo), the bank’s Board continued to worry about AFU’s growing influence across regional Victoria. Stories of small banks like theirs being swallowed up were front and center of every Board meeting. Greg allayed their fears with charts, graphs, and a charismatic smile.
In 2009, the Church honored Greg at the annual fundraiser dinner. It wasn’t difficult to fill the tables, even at $45 a head. Clement Regional bought two tables and filled them with bank employees and their spouses. The current AFU branch manager was also in attendance with his wife but, being new to Clement from the City, he hadn’t yet learned to play the game and so was seated among the regular people, rather than surrounded by his own.
In his address at the dinner, Greg didn’t mince words. His message was clear - local families should support local businesses. He pointed to his wife sitting by his side at the head table. She ran the bakery which had been in his family for 50 years. He pointed across the hall to Derrick Mathers (the third-generation grocer) and then to Dale Davies (the technical wiz and computer store owner) and passionately made his case: locals for locals.
Unashamedly, he spoke of his rise at the bank from teller to CEO and how the local community had always been behind him. He told stories of approving loans to farmers during the tough times, and helping them save for the future. He spoke of Gerald McMullen who’d handed over his family farm to his son so he could retire on his investments with Clement Regional. Greg enjoyed watching the AFU manager shift awkwardly in his seat, scanning the room for an ally. Greg ended with an impassioned plea to all the attendees to open their hearts and wallets to the Church - the one solid and eternal foundation of their community. After the event, Greg collected the checks from the donation plate to deposit in the Church’s bank account. He smiled when he saw a personal check for $1,000 from none other than the new AFU Branch Manager.
Although Clement Regional Bank had long moved to electronic systems, Greg made sure to keep his finger directly on the pulse of the activities in the critical Loans and Investment departments. All major decisions were funneled through him for final approval. The Board was happy with this arrangement because Greg was exceptionally good at his job. With 40 years of experience, he’d made enough mistakes to know how to avoid them. Despite the ups and downs of the global market, droughts, bushfires, and a shrinking population, by 2017 Clement hadn’t changed all that much.
Gabby was much less fulfilled than her husband. She spent most of her time managing the Rustic Crust Bakery. She’d learned long ago not to discuss the business with Greg because he never failed to mention that it was really his bakery and she was just taking care of it. She’d even once made him an offer to buy it. Greg said he couldn’t sell something so sentimental. “Sentimental in nature, not in practice”, thought Gabby. She knew that the bakery only survived because of her. She was the one who got up at ungodly hours of the morning to supervise the first baking of the day. She was the one who crawled under the machines to fix them when they failed. She was the one who negotiated hard with suppliers on the phone and sweet talked grandmothers over the counter.
Despite his public persona of the community leader who’d made it, Greg faced mounting pressure at work. The Australian Farmer’s Union bank had made several attempts to buy Clement Regional. The Board rebuffed the offers, opting instead to remain independent and loyal to their customers. This only added extra pressure on Greg to outperform himself year over year. He’d recognized that the world of banking had moved forward. Greg fully embraced the changes taking place around him because he had no other choice. Keeping Clement Regional alive meant that Greg needed to stay sharp. He spent a lot of time on Reddit, interacting with other bank executives. They were a useful sounding board and an excellent resource for new ideas and tactics.
One early October afternoon, Greg unlocked his phone to check the latest activity in the forum. There was a DM from a user he’d seen from time to time participating in the chats.
@Bank0nit73: Hi, @GregCR. I’ve seen you posting on these banking forums. I’m also in finance - London based. I thought we could hop on a phone call. I have an intriguing idea for you.
Greg re-read the message. He opened the chat forum and searched for Bank0nit73. He found some interesting posts on finance and investing, going back about a year. Greg clicked on Bank0nit73’s profile. There was no profile picture. He read the description: Investment broker with expertise in currency and foreign exchange. There was a link to a website. It took Greg to www.investinit.co.uk. Scrolling through the site, Greg browsed through the company’s range of investment types. He noted that they were located on the prestigiously named Park Royal Road in Memex House, London, and he skipped over the testimonials page because (as he knew only too well) they were usually fabricated. The page listing the Board of Management included some investment people Greg had read about in an investment publication. He turned back to the DM and wrote:
@GregCR: Hi, @Bank0nit73, would love to talk. When can we hop on a call?
@Bank0nit73: Sounds great! I’m actually flying to Australia for some meetings. I’ll be in Melbourne from Oct 23-26. How about a face-to-face?
@GregCR: Perfect
A week before the meeting, Greg received this DM:
@Bank0nit73: @GregCR, sorry. Change of plans. Meetings in Melbourne are canceled.
@GregCR: Too bad. Should we do a video call or phone call?
@Bank0nit73: I wanted to tell you about an investment opportunity that I think would interest you. How about we take this private? What’s your phone details?
When they connected on chat, Greg saw that @Bank0nit73 was actually James Chester. According to his company’s website, James was a Senior Investment Consultant who’d been in the finance business almost as long as Greg had been in his.
Greg’s phone vibrated and he opened the chat application.
James: This platform is end-to-end encrypted, right?
Greg: Yeah
James: Good. I have something to discuss with you that I thought you might be interested in. I’ve been trying to find investors who, like me, are up with the latest.
Greg: Go on
James: I’ve been making money on the crypto exchanges, buying Bitcoin. Heard of it?
Greg: This is a joke, right? Bitcoin is a gamble. It’s unstable. Unregulated.
James: That’s partly true. Look, there’s a lot of chatter on the forums about it. I’ve seen you there. You’re interested, I know it.
Greg: It’s too new.
James: Not really. Since 2009. Bitcoin is trading right now for around $850 Australian. All indicators are that it’s going to jump.
Greg: It’s volatile.
James: It’s like getting in on the ground floor when Google started trading.
Greg: I missed the boat on that one.
James: So you know what I mean when I say it’s an opportunity.
Greg: I suppose. What’s in it for you if I invest in Bitcoin?
James: I’ve been buying up Bitcoin for years now. Look at this.
James shared a screenshot from an app that showed his steadily increasing investment over the last five years and the corresponding increasing value. Greg opened up his browser and checked the historical value of Bitcoin over the same period. It was accurate.
Greg: I’ll get back to you.
Greg was due at another extraordinary Board meeting. The Board had gotten themselves all worked up about the latest regional demographic numbers. The Australian Farmer’s Union bank was creeping up its market share, especially among young couples, and Greg needed the Board to cool down. Clement Regional’s numbers were slightly down compared to this time last year. He knew the Board was going to pressure him to do better.
Greg: I did my research. What you’re saying checks out. But I don't have the first clue how to start investing. Blockchain, exchanges, wallets - I don’t know…
James: Good morning! (or is it afternoon in Clement?) That’s not a problem. You just need an app. Here’s a link to the one I use. It’s easy.
Greg: I’ll check it out 🙂
James: Yeah, just make sure to use the link I sent, not one from the PlayStore. There are a lot of knock-offs and scams going around.
Greg clicked the link. It was a web site. He navigated his way around, skipping over the legal pages. Greg found that CryptoBank’s site was slicker and better than his own bank’s website. He might have to talk to Dale about another redesign. A blue button at the top invited Greg to create an account. He clicked it.
James: Greg, did you look at the link I sent you?
Greg: Setting up an account now.
James: I’d advise going slowly at first. Get comfortable with the process.
Greg: It’s not my first rodeo, James. That’s my plan.
Greg received an email from CryptoBank with his account details. He transferred a thousand Australian dollars to it. Within minutes, the transfer showed up in his new account.
Greg: OK, what do I do now?
James: If you’ve got a balance in your account, just click “Buy Crypto” and select “Bitcoin”.
Greg: Done
James: It takes a couple of minutes. The app matches you with a seller. When the price displays, click “Confirm”.
Greg checked his balance: $41.70 and one Bitcoin. He transferred the $41.70 back to his own bank account. The transfer out of CryptoBank was seamless. Greg checked the CryptoBank site several times that day. The price of Bitcoin was spiking.
James: Are you seeing this? I just made $300,000 US. I cashed out.
James shared another screenshot of his balance.
Greg: I sold all my Bitcoin and made $900.
He shared a screenshot of his balance together with a dollar sign emoji.
James: The market does that. Just keep an eye on it. We’re in early enough so we’ll make a killing.
Greg transferred $150,000 from his personal savings into his CryptoBank account. He watched the market like a hawk. It declined steadily for a few days.
Greg: The market’s down. I read reports that Bitcoin is going out of fashion.
James: Those nervous nellies at the newspapers don’t understand markets like we do. I rolled my $300,000 US back in and bought another $100k
Greg: I put in $150k
James: That’s it? When the news cycle comes around again, Bitcoin will be up and you’ll kick yourself that you didn’t go all in. I bet the AFU doesn’t have even one Bitcoin LOL
Greg: You know about the AFU, all the way over there in England?
James: 😁 I did my homework on you like I do on all my investors - it’s my job!
Greg: I know you’re right - buy low, sell high.
James: Exactly. Your Board will love you and the AFU won’t be able to touch your bank.
Greg sat at his desk and logged into the bank’s systems. He studied the screen for some time and initiated the transfer of $30 million from an investment fund that was about to mature. The transaction only required Greg’s approval.
Greg’s phone dinged and the transfer was complete. Greg screenshot his new balance.
Greg: @James - this is called “all in”!
James: LOL 💵💲💵💲
Greg waited weeks for the price of Bitcoin to rally. The market remained in a slump even though online experts kept promising improvements. By now, Greg’s $30 million investment had shrunk to just over $25m. It was time to cut his losses.
Greg pulled out his phone and walked himself through the process of selling all of his Bitcoin, but he couldn’t just cash in all his chips at once. The platform would put his Bitcoin on the CryptoBank marketplace and advertise for a buyer.
An offer came in for significantly less than market value. If he sold at that price, he’d be short by at least a million.
Greg: @James - you there?
James: Hi, Greg, what’s up?
Greg: I have to cash in my Bitcoin. There’s a Board meeting coming up and I’ve only made a loss. I have to get out now.
James: Ouch. Selling low - not a good strategy.
Greg: I know, but I have no choice. I can’t sweet talk the Board around a $5m loss.
James: They’re bankers. They understand the nature of investments.
Greg: Yeah, but they’re old-school. They don’t understand crypto or blockchain. They’d rather invest in real estate, retail, or transportation. And I never really discussed this with them before I withdrew funds from an in-progress investment.
James: Well, you gotta do what you’ve gotta do…
Greg: Problem is, the rate’s too low. How can I bump up the offer price? I don’t see a mechanism to set a reserve.
James: If you’re taking out, what is it, $30 million and you want a better rate, you’re going to have to sell the Bitcoin directly to the platform.
Greg: How does that work?
James: CryptoBank averages out the month’s rate which will be higher than the going market rate right now, which is pretty low. They want to encourage you to sell to them because the more Bitcoin they control, the easier it is for them to manipulate the market. Scarcity and all that. The catch is it requires a deposit of at least 10% in an escrow account first. That money will be used to pay taxes and fees upon successful transfer of dollars back to you.
This was an unexpected turn. If Greg was going to sell his Bitcoin to the CryptoBank he’d need around $3 million to cover taxes. He couldn’t take more of the bank’s money. To do that, he’d need to opt out of another active investment. So he decided on another plan. As the official owner of the Rustic Crust Bakery, he applied for a bank loan from Clement Regional. He’d approve the loan, not tell Gabby, and he’ll pay off the loan gradually from his salary. But there was a snag. According to the computer, the bakery couldn’t extend its line of credit for more than $500k. There was no override. He’d have to figure out a way to get his hands on another $2.5 million to cover the tax.
He could walk into the AFU and take out a larger loan on behalf of the bakery. He could claim that he was trying to avoid a conflict of interest. The only thing was that Clement Regional had been financing the Rustic Crust Bakery for years, so why the sudden change? Also, they’d want papers and statements, and it would take way too long. Besides, the AFU were Greg’s mortal enemies and there was no way he’d go to them on bended knee.
Greg had tapped out his personal finances. He thought about where he might have stashed some funds for a rainy day. There was his pension, though he couldn’t touch it for several years. The only other account he had access to was the Church’s. Thou shalt not steal. He rationalized that it wouldn’t be stealing if he only borrowed it. He’d pay it back, with interest. Anyway, who was instrumental in keeping the Church’s finances healthy all these years? Who was responsible for bringing in hundreds of thousands of dollars to the Church’s coffers over the last few decades? And being an unpaid Church Elder, well, they owed him something, right? Greg logged in to the Church’s bank account. They only had $1.25 million. But he applied for and approved a bank loan on their behalf for the remainder. He transferred $2.5 million to his personal account. He would definitely pay it back.
Greg had enough to deposit into the escrow account, sell the Bitcoin, and make Clement Regional whole again. He would even recoup his own money, sell his house, and pay back the Church. Whatever cash was left after paying taxes would go to pay down the two loans. To make it official, he wrote down this plan in a Google Doc and saved it under the file name “Crypto Repayment Plan”. His good intentions set in stone, Greg transferred $3 million to his CryptoBank account.
When the money came through, Greg followed the on-screen prompts to sell his Bitcoin. CryptoBank accepted his offer and Greg was pleased to see his Bitcoin transfer out of his account, the $3 million transfer into the escrow account, and the $30 million balance restored to his CryptoBank Australian dollar account. Greg completed the online form to transfer his funds out of CryptoBank back to his personal Clement Regional account. He clicked “Process Withdrawal''. The page reloaded to a 404 error. Greg tried to log into his CryptoBank account again. His credentials were denied. He clicked “Forgot my password”, entered his email address into the field and clicked “Submit”. The page reloaded to a 404 error. Greg tried to load the CryptoBank website in a new tab. 404. He tried a different browser. 404. He tried opening the CryptoBank’s corporate website to click the login button from there. 404. He tried it from his phone. 404. He tried from a different computer. 404.
Greg: @James - is CryptoBank’s website down?
Greg: I tried logging in and got a 404 error.
Greg: @James?
Greg: ?!?!?!?James ?!?!?!?
Greg quickly navigated to the old Reddit forum where he’d met James. Bank0nit73 hadn’t logged in for months.
The next day, told his wife he’d received a last-minute invitation to speak at a banking conference in London. Gabby didn’t believe him. It was an unlikely story, and besides, Greg left in such a hurry that she didn’t have time to get to the bottom of things.
Greg left Clement by car, traveling towards Melbourne International Airport. On the way he phoned the office to tell them he’d be away for a few days dealing with an emergency overseas. What the CEO of Clement Regional had to do with an emergency in England was anyone’s guess. He didn’t elaborate, leaving the conspiracy theorists and gossip-mongers to speculate.
Greg landed at Heathrow and took a cab directly to Memex House at 51 Park Royal Road - the address from the bank’s website. It took about half an hour for the cab to arrive at the address. Greg stepped out onto a dull street. Memex House was a depressing two-storey brick building on a non-descript corner of an industrial complex. The “For Lease” sign hung askew above the top storey windows. The main entrance was locked and the windows were barred. Greg walked around the side of the building, looking for another way in. The place was obviously shuttered a long time ago.
Greg spent the next few days trying to hunt down CryptoBank and James. He met with a dispassionate clerk at the Bank of England and enquired about CryptoBank, which she couldn’t find in any database. Greg went to 23 Camomile Street to meet with an administrator at the Investment Association who couldn’t locate James Chester on any register. It’s as if both had never existed at all.
Greg only had two options: go back to Clement and watch his lifetime of work, his reputation, his standing in the community be crushed to dust, or make a run for it.
A week later, Greg was sitting behind his desk at Clement Regional. His swift and sudden departure overseas raised some concerns, but when he walked back into the branch office at 9 AM on that Monday morning, dressed smartly in his suit, crisp white shirt, and silk tie, smiling and greeting his employees, all gossip and speculation were put to rest.
Monday. He approved a loan to Bert Longman, a local farmer who’d banked with Clement Regional since before Greg arrived at the bank. Bert wanted to build a second sheep shed and needed an advance of $30k. He was good for it.
Tuesday. Greg worked with Claire, the office manager, to plan the annual company picnic. It was going to be almost twice the size of last year’s event.
Wednesday. Greg approved the hire of Skip Shepherd and Jay Newton, two new bank tellers. They were right out of Clement High and reminded him of himself all those years ago. Bright, charming, and looking forward to their first paycheck.
Thursday. Greg straightened the papers on his desk. He slid his chair neatly into place and breathed. He picked up his briefcase and told Claire he was on his way to the Board meeting. She looked up from her phone and gave him the thumbs up before returning to her conversation. She was ordering pastries from the Rustic Crust Bakery for the upcoming picnic.
The Board meeting started off as usual. Inconsequential matters were raised and debated as if Clement Regional’s future depended on them. Greg mostly sat silently and spoke once or twice to agree with whatever it was the previous speaker had said. Eventually, the President turned to Greg and asked him to present the quarterly financials. Greg stood up and strode to the front of the room. All eyes were firmly on him. Greg buttoned his jacket and surveyed the room. All these men. He’d been in this room with all these men for so many years. They’d seen him pull off some incredible tactical maneuvers that ultimately saved the bank. He had their respect, their admiration, and their trust.
Without a quiver of emotion, Greg told the Board how he was duped into investing large sums of the bank’s money in a fraudulent crypto scheme. He left no detail out: His initial success, his motivation to hold off the AFU, and his research into James and the CryptoBank at Memex House. He described how he stole from the bakery and how he defrauded the Church, even though he documented his intention to pay it all back. He dispassionately described how he’d gone to London to find James and the CryptoBank and had come back empty handed. When he finished, Greg breathed again. He stood silently at the head of the table and looked into the eyes of the people he’d betrayed. He awaited the inevitable shouting, name calling, and hysterics he’d seen in this room before for far lesser reasons. The Board was in shock. Finally, the President calmly asked Greg to leave the room so they could discuss his story. For their benefit, Greg handed out copies of his official statement that covered the entire saga. He left the room and waited on the couch in the corridor. He positioned himself as far away from the boardroom door as possible, resisting the temptation to listen in.
Eventually, they summoned him back into the boardroom. Greg resumed his place at the front of the room like a schoolboy before his principal. The bank’s President was a matter-of-fact person whose stoicism was what the Board needed at this moment. He described the Board’s bitter disappointment, how they felt betrayed by someone they’d trusted completely for all these years. They would need time to figure out how they might extract the bank from this very serious financial predicament. Their investors would be champing at the bit. But, they emphasized, none of this would be Greg’s concern. At that very moment the police were on their way and the Clement Regional Board of Directors would ask them to take Greg into custody. It went without saying that Greg’s position at the bank was terminated.
The trial was short. Greg’s only choice was to plead guilty to multiple counts of fraud. At his plea hearing, he claimed that it wasn’t his fault, at least not entirely. Greg recapped how he was the victim of a scammer who’d cultivated a relationship with him to fatten him up, make him feel comfortable, then swindle him of all his money. Pig Butchering. Playing the victim card did little to help. Certainly his many years as an upstanding citizen and active member of the community were kept in mind. His chat records, browser history, the Google Doc of good intentions, and all communications with the scammers were carefully considered. His attempts to do his due diligence and that he’d gone to London to recover the money were taken into account. The verdict was swift, and predictable. Greg would serve a seven-year sentence at Langi Kal Kal Prison, an hour and forty five minutes from Melbourne. Upon release, he’d need to do 52 weeks of community service, and all assets in his name will be seized, sold, and put towards repaying the debt. He’d leave jail with no job, no money, nothing to his name, and a parole term that left him little time to find the means to support himself. Greg had some quiet individual defenders. They said he was duped, scammed, lied to. In the end, though, the consensus was that the punishment fit the crime. Greg should have known better.
The Clement Regional picnic was canceled along with their pastry order. In any case, the Rustic Crust Bakery was in Greg’s name and the State seized it as part of the asset forfeiture process. Gabby filed for divorce. In public, the Church Elders spoke about forgiveness and how Greg’s service to the community over several decades was still worth something. Privately, though, they fumed at his treachery and wondered how they could ever recoup their money without their most successful fundraiser.
The Australian Farmer’s Union bank quietly circled Clement Regional. They ingratiated themselves to the Church by offering to take over their banking needs with favorable terms. The sympathetic branch manager said that of course they’d be happy to sponsor the next Church fundraiser, if they could put their logo on the T-shirts. It wouldn’t be long before all of Clement Regional’s investors and customers moved their accounts to the AFU, “The bank farmers can trust.”
Greg’s story became a part of Clement’s folk lore. It took a few years until the people of Clement found other subjects of gossip and speculation. When the Clement Gazette ran the headline “Bank fraudster to be released”, it revived the conversation. For Greg, the seven years of incarceration at the minimum-security prison had felt a lot longer. With no visitors, the four walls of the prison became his world. He spent most of his time reading novels and teaching investment tactics to other inmates. It wasn’t a hard seven years; it wasn’t a pleasant seven years. On the day of his release, Greg gathered a few personal items. He left the remainder of his belongings to the other inmates. He hadn’t any need for packets of gum, playing cards, or an extra blanket.
A taxi met Greg at the gates and the warden instructed the driver to take Greg to Clement. A boarding house on the outskirts of the town would host him until Greg got his life together. There was no smile on Greg’s face as he clipped the seatbelt in place. Not free yet.
After settling into his new room at the boarding house, he told the proprietor he’d be going for a walk. The proprietor shrugged. It’s a free country.
Greg shoved his hands in his pockets and sauntered in the opposite direction to the town. There was something he had to do.
Crossing the road, Greg made his way between the trees. There was an old, overgrown walking track that led to a disused shed. The tin roof barely hung on to the structure’s dilapidated frame. Greg unlatched the door and waited a moment until his eyes grew used to the dark. The sun that peeked through the slats of the walls and the holes in the roof projected dusty spotlit circles on the ground. Dale Davies. They hadn’t spoken for many years, yet they dispensed with the greetings. Dale removed an anti-static plastic bag from his pocket and withdrew a hard drive from it. He plugged the drive into a laptop that had a “Dale’s Computer and Technology” sticker on the lid. He pressed a few keys, and looked up expectantly at Greg. Greg gave him the password.
“Ah, there you are, CryptoBank,” smiled Greg as his Bitcoin balance appeared on the screen. His wallet showed 1,658 Bitcoin, now worth exactly $122,348,180. With Greg watching his every move, Dale transferred 20% of the Bitcoin to his own wallet ($24,469,636), and disconnected the hard drive. He replaced it in the anti-static bag and handed it to Greg.
Dale put away his laptop and tossed the former banker a mobile phone. Greg said, “Goodbye, Bank0nit73, or should I say James?” and calmly destroyed the phone with the heel of his boot.