Auditory Viewpoint

by Lillian R. Melendez

  A train arrived, and the hacker went inside the instant the doors opened, shoving aside people who were on their way out. Benjamin then entered. The hacker glanced back, hurried outside, and went into the next train car. Benjamin tried to enter, but the hacker pushed him back. He then tried to hold onto the hacker’s wrist, but ended up holding onto a watch until his hand was abruptly released by the hacker’s other hand. Benjamin fell on the platform, but managed to get up again. The train door closed, and Benjamin knew the chase was over. The train began to move again, and the hacker disappeared into the crowded train car. Benjamin watched the train become a small dot in the distance.

  CHAPTER 18—UNAWARE

  Monica entered Central Park at West 67th Street. She walked further down until she found a bench. She sat and stared at pigeons nibbling on bread crumbs by a garbage can. Several people jogged in opposite directions, and Monica enjoyed the scenery until her name was called. She did not answer the first time. Given that it was a large area, she thought that someone nearby happened to be calling someone else by that name.

  “Monica.”

  She slowly turned to face the person standing on her side. She jolted, then quickly got up from the bench and stepped away.

  “Don’t try anything, or I will scream!” Monica said in an angry voice as she tried her best to be less fearful.

  “It’s me, Philip,” Philip said.

  Monica glanced up and down at Philip’s wardrobe. A khaki colored coat with stains and tears around the edges and seams of loose thread covered the man. The front right part of the coat had several rips, and both side pockets had small holes. The gloves only covered the palm of his hands, and his fingertips were bare. There was a hole in his very dirty sneakers, and his hat almost covered his eyes. Monica was still uncomfortable and suspicious, but soon recognized the familiar face behind the overgrown beard and poor wardrobe.

  “You look like hell.”

  “That’s part of my plan,” Philip replied.

  “This is your plan? To be a homeless person?” Monica pointed to his clothes, and suddenly became reticent. Her eyebrows frowned after a whiff of foul smell came to her nose from the wind.

  “What is that repugnant smell? Expensive cologne on a poor wardrobe. You are a good actor,” Monica said sarcastically while she spoke underneath her hands, which covered her nose and mouth.

  “They found the person who killed the hacker who used to work for you,” Philip said.

  “Gregory was his name. Yes, I saw the news. I couldn’t believe it at first when I saw his bloody face with my own eyes, but the plaid long sleeve shirt he wore – mostly to cover up the tattoo he was trying to remove – made me more certain it was him,” Monica said and tightened her lip. “I can’t believe Gregory died, especially that way.”

  “I am never surprised. Money talks.”

  “I guess if the price is right,” Monica replied and changed the subject. “I am eager to know how this plan of yours works out.”

  “If this scheme works out well, then your team can proceed for any holiday event soon after,” Philip said.

  “I am just tied down right now.”

  “With your plan, whatever it is. Did it derail? Do you need my help?” Philip asked.

  “With what?” Monica asked quickly.

  “With your search.”

  “No thank you. You should concentrate on your agenda, and I will concentrate on mine.”

  “I found her roaming around near the Rockefeller Center area with two other people,” Philip said.

  Monica sat quiet for a moment. She had a puzzled look on her face.

  “I’m not helping you, just giving you tips. You accept that kind of help, don’t you? I am worried about you,” Philip added.

  “They are here? Right now? In this city? At this exact time?” Monica asked.

  “Yes,” Philip answered.

  Monica remained silent.

  “That’s all I am going to say to you since you do not want my help.” Philip rubbed his hands. “Now, if you can excuse me, I better prepare things before the Thanksgiving Day Parade ends. There will be a lot to be thankful for,” he added and touched her chin.

  “Don’t touch me,” Monica said as she moved his hand.

  “I’m clean,” Philip chuckled.

  “Those hands are not.”

  “How are you really?” Philip asked as it was his turn to change the subject.

  Monica gave him an icy stare. “You weren’t there when I called you about the sound of keys?”

  “When have I become a target of these accusations? Do I need to take another aspirin?” Philip asked, but she did not say another word.

  “I have to go now. See you later on this week,” Philip said as he waved his hand to signal his exit.

  Monica felt a little calmer after talking to Philip. While walking, she breathed the cool air in and viewed the scenery around her. The sound of a bike chain was enough to startle her, and she noticed the noise was lighter than the dense sound of keys she heard recently. People had conversations with one another, children laughed, and other people were jogging. A brisk wind pushed her hair to the side of her face. She withdrew one of her hands from her coat pocket, and brushed aside the hair on her face to feel the leather glove touch her cheek. A stranger walking towards her pulled a pack of cigarettes out from her jacket, and several coins fell to the ground. Again, the sound startled Monica. A quarter rolled to her feet, and Monica bent down and picked up the coin, which she then returned to the stranger. Seconds later, the sound of keys started to ring in her ears. Monica did not pay attention to the person thanking her for returning the coin. The sound continued. The woman, who now held a cigarette between her fingers, stared at Monica’s awkward behavior. Monica put her hands on her ears, and more people appeared to be staring. She noticed, and quickly put her hands back inside her pockets. No keys to be seen. As Monica walked a little quicker, a stranger walked by her with keys in his hand, and Monica slowed down and moved towards him.

  “Please stop! What do you want from me?” she implored.

  The stranger gave her a baffled look. Monica focused on the keys in his hand.

  “That is not you?” a startled Monica said after taking a closer look at his hand.

  “Lady, are you alright?” the stranger asked, but Monica continued to walk without saying a word.

  The sound continued, and the stranger she just confronted kept standing still until there was a good deal of distance between them. Monica moved at a faster pace; not really knowing if the sound stemmed from people opening their cars parked nearby, outside of the park. She kept moving her head, and suddenly found herself stumbling and rolling down on the grass. Small branches got stuck on her body in several places as she rolled. Her eyes kept seeing the dry, wrinkled, colorful fall leaves as she continued to tumble. Unaware there was a pond further down the hill, seconds later, after trying her best to catch her grip, with the sound of keys still lurking in her ears, Monica suddenly landed in icy cold water. Her eyes met with the blue-green water, and she struggled to reach back up. Once she finally did so, Monica was gasping for air. She then felt a hand moving her whole body closer to the grass with great force. She looked up at several strangers, who spoke loudly.

  “Hold on!” one of the strangers said while running towards her.

  Once she had been carried out of the water, the strangers slowly sat her on the ground. One of them wrapped a coat around her, which gave her instant warmth. She slowly clasped her hands on the coat as the stranger removed some of her drenched hair covering her eyes. Monica felt like a child that moment, which made her uncomfortable. The embarrassment was overwhelming, and a look of horror appeared on Monica’s face as she saw herself on the ground with her drenched pants and shoes covered with pieces of green grass, leaves, and mud. She looked at the pond before her, and saw her hand-crocheted acrylic hat move with the stream. Quickly, she turned her head away from the water, wishing she was in any dry place at that mom
ent. She gazed around, as people looked back from afar. “Oh God,” she said to herself. One stranger held out a hand to lift her up; Monica slowly took it, and got up as she clenched the coat even more tightly.

  “Do you need an ambulance?” someone asked.

  “No, I’m fine. I really am,” Monica said as she shivered from the cold water and coughed several times.

  “What happened?” the same person asked.

  Monica mumbled as she tried to figure out what to say to the people surrounding her.

  “Just be careful next time,” said another person standing on her right side.

  The sound of the keys had finally subsided.

  CHAPTER 19—UNABLE

  Philip stood in a vacant alley and took out a piece of gum from his pants pocket. A stray and rusty golden retriever stopped to look at him a distance away, and then continued to walk to its destination. Naked branches stuck out from both sides of the alley as if they were engaged in a conflict with one another. The many broken pieces of pavement crumbled to oblivion. Philip unraveled the piece of gum from its paper, threw the wrapper on the floor, put the gum inside his mouth, and then chewed. A homeless man was nearby, taking his time as he searched one of the two trash cans.

  “No scraps, just paper!” the homeless person said. “I thought I would find a piece of fruit, bread, or anything around here.”

  The rumbling of the garbage can caused by the homeless man started to distract Philip from typing on his smartphone. The homeless person went near him to another garbage can.

  “Did you find any scraps of food in there?” the homeless man asked while leaning forward and preparing to dig.

  “No, I didn’t,” Philip said as he moved two steps away from the homeless man and continued typing on his phone.

  “The lid is tightly closed,” the homeless man said.

  Seconds later, the phone vibrated in Philip’s hand and light blinked from its screen. He glanced at the text. “WHERE R U. URGENT.” Philip was puzzled and typed, “CHANGE OF PLANS. MEET ME@12 BLVD.” He then pressed the SEND button and put his phone back in his pocket. The homeless man finally managed to open the garbage can, reached in, and took up several piles of food.

  “You are too blind. Here are scraps of meat.”

  Philip slowly took a few steps backwards with a suspicious look on his face.

  “This is a perfectly good burger, take some!” the homeless person said with his hands extended outwards.

  Philip stood still for a few seconds, still cynical about the man in front of him.

  “Listen, I have to go,” Philip said as he looked around the narrow alley, which remained vacant apart from the two of them. He then reached into his pocket and took out a bill, folded it, and went up close to the homeless person. The man stared at the dollar bill, utterly confused.

  “You’re giving me a dollar someone else gave you?” the homeless man asked, sounding astonished.

  “Take it,” Philip said to him.

  The homeless man took the bill and kept staring at it. Philip looked at his watch, then walked away from the homeless person and out of the alley. The man took a closer look at the green, rectangular paper.

  Inside the oval-shaped circle was a figure of an elderly man, balding with long gray hair down the back. “Wha... What... Franklin. Benjamin Franklin?” The homeless man looked up while putting the money deep inside his pocket. “Thank you,” he said, only to realize that he was alone in the alley.

  Ten minutes later, Philip stood in another alley waiting for someone he had recently texted. One of the hackers – a guy with a New York Yankee baseball cap, a leather jacket and boot cut distressed jeans – entered the secluded alley carrying his laptop case. He walked up to Philip.

  “Here is the USB drive. I want to double check something,” Philip said to him.

  The hacker lifted his laptop case off his shoulders, sat down on the stairs on the side of an unoccupied building, and opened his laptop. Philip took out the USB flash drive from his ragged coat pocket, walked over to the hacker, and gave it to him. The hacker inserted the device on one side of the laptop, turned it on, and waited until a document list appeared on the screen.

  “Yes,” Philip responded as he looked away from his phone and turned to the hacker.

  “There is a problem.”

  “What problem, Jimmy?” Philip asked with a calm voice.

  “The USB drive here isn’t the right one.”

  Philip was puzzled. “Come again,” he said, still confused by the last statement.

  “I checked it out. The files are different. Several documents say Midtown North Precinct on the letterhead.” Jimmy looked up at Philip. “That’s a police station. I think the USB drive is in someone else’s hands.”

  “What are you talking about?” Philip said and quickly bent down to look at the computer screen.

  Jimmy browsed the list of files while Philip looked on. Philip became aggravated while he examined the list of files himself and opened several of them. “I checked this USB drive out as soon as I received it.” He looked more closely. “Dammit!”

  “This is definitely police work,” Jimmy said.

  “These are files related to police work. How? What? How?” Philip started to step back, placed his hands on top of his head for a minute, and looked down. He returned to Jimmy.

  “You mentioned you were at a police station,” Jimmy said.

  Philip nodded his head nervously.

  “Do you believe it’s still there?” Jimmy asked.

  “It’s in the hands of the police,” Philip said.

  “That’s not good at all, boss,” Jimmy said as he watched Philip become increasingly anxious and walk around nervously.

  Philip put his hand on his mouth for a second, scratched his beard, and shook his head twice. “Everything was going according to plan, and I screwed it up,” he declared with despair.

  Jimmy took the USB flash drive out, then quickly closed his laptop and put it back inside its case. “That’s not good, boss.” Jimmy shook his head several times.

  “That is not good at all,” Philip said, repeating Jimmy’s words. “How? How?” He found himself raising his voice in the secluded alley, then stopped moving and stared at the long alley before him. The sight of several cars driving fast in different directions broke his concentration, and he turned back to Jimmy.

  “When did you give me the USB drive? What day? What time?” Philip asked urgently.

  “Thursday. I wanted to give it to you on Wednesday, but a colleague told me you were being released from police custody. I thought it was best to give it to you the next morning, because you had a lot on your plate that day,” Jimmy replied.

  “It was me,” Philip said as he looked down at the concrete floor. “The cops stopped me. I matched the description of someone who stole a woman’s purse, as I mentioned to you on the phone earlier. Before they put me in a lineup with several other men who roughly matched my description, the cops removed everything from my coat and pants pockets. They were curious about why a guy with poor, smelly clothes would have a USB drive, but they let it slide since the stolen purse was what interested them. A cop had a similar USB drive, and he placed it next to mine. After the woman picked out the right thief, they gave the device back to me.” Philip paused and looked intently at the hacker. “But not the right one.”

  “What happens now?” Jimmy asked.

  “I have to think!” Philip repeated those words for a few seconds. “The passwords,” he then said.

  “What about them?”

  “The police wouldn’t know what’s on the drive. They won’t know what the files are about,” Philip responded, seeming more relieved. A second later, the tone of his voice turned more anxious again. “The police will be able to crack the passwords on that device. All they have to do is have a security team help them.” He then became silent and thoughtful.

  “I really don’t see how we are going to get out of this one,” Jimmy concluded.
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  Philip turned to look at Jimmy and shook his head. “Me neither. But what I do know is that only an experienced hacker will fully appreciate what is at stake once such a device is lost and falls into the wrong hands.”

  CHAPTER 20—UNCAGED

  Eric Epson was in deep thought in a holding cell. The other inmate lay against the wall, on the end opposite from Eric, while he flipped a quarter and guessed heads and tails to mentally run the clock. Once an officer walked by the metallic painted cell bars, Eric rushed towards them and shouted “Officer, officer!” as loud as he could.

  The officer stopped and went back towards him.

  “Am I going to be released soon? When am I going to be released? Is Special Agent Sanchez around, or is Special Agent Henderson nearby?” Eric asked anxiously.

  “You won’t be leaving today or tomorrow, sit tight,” the officer replied and walked away.

  Eric’s eyes followed the cop until he couldn’t see him anymore. He put his head on the cell bars before him, and slowly banged it back and forth.

  Eric heard a husky voice behind him. “What are you here for?” the other inmate asked.

  “What?” Eric lifted his head from the cell bars and slowly turned around.

  “What are you in for? Stealing a car, assault, what?” said the habitual offender with 200 pounds of weight on him.

  “Hacking,” Eric responded.

  “I never had a hacker in the several cells I’ve been in,” the man said.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble. But I will defend myself if I have to,” Eric said angrily.

  The other inmate leaned against the wall. “Hey, I’m not looking to start a fight. I’m just curious. I ask everyone I’m sharing a cell with the same question.”

  “So what are you here for?” Eric asked him.

  “Pickpocketing, which happens to be my profession,” the man answered.

  Eric remained silent, letting the other inmate continue to speak.