Digital God

by Nikhilkumar Singh

  ‘Could this have been led by a disgruntled employee, maybe one facing a pink slip?’ asked Samba.

  ‘Blaming an employee would be too easy. People would say we’re just trying to hide our shortcomings. All evidence suggests otherwise. The revelations and chronology of events as narrated by Badal should leave us with a good idea as to who was behind this attack. The caller who had identified himself as the Norman Security representative must have done this,’ said Venkatesh.

  ‘Let’s do this … let’s track him. But, for now, let’s finish the task at hand.’

  The meeting was adjourned as the team scattered to act on the contingency plan.

  The team in the conference room was only going to break the news to their CEO after partially restoring the system. But Rana, who was back in Hyderabad, had known about the cyber-attack all along.

  He was furious when he learned about the meeting that had taken place without his knowledge. He went straight to Samba’s office to confront him.

  Samba defended the meeting, adding that it was only to assess the initial damage. ‘Ultimately, we were going to inform you. We wanted to ensure that the news is contained, which is also why we met so early,’ he said.

  But Rana was not convinced. Immediately he summoned Samba’s assistant to the office. ‘Sheena, get me Pankaj’s phone number – the hacker guy. Samba knows about him. And send a memo to Pranjal. He’s no longer required. Also, keep tracking news sites. If there’s any negative news on Sathyamev, you call me immediately. You have my number.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Sheena replied.

  Kalimbhai, one of the drivers of the Mercedes entourage, was sipping tea alongside Rafiq, the security personnel posted at the Ojas Tower building. Rafiq was an old employee of Sathyamev and was concerned about the recent shake-up.

  ‘I’ve seen Samba Sir and the others running around between different offices. What’s the matter? Is something wrong? I’ve never seen them so stressed out. Are they under attack or what?’ asked Rafiq.

  ‘Someone is using a brute force against them,’ replied Kalimbhai.

  ‘Brute force?’

  ‘I heard it from Driver Kaka. The Rajput brothers were discussing the matter while they were returning home in their car. Driver Kaka told me as much. This may seem unbelievable but it’s happening.’

  Rafiq looked on in anticipation as Kalimbhai sat up to give an account of what he understood of Kanu’s cyber-attack.

  ‘They say he’s a computer whiz. He comes in the dead of night when bats rule the sky. He’s visible for a moment, then disappears into thin air. He’s young, but no one knows who he is. He can fly from one tower of the building to another – just like that – hands held out like wings. He chooses his own targets. Flames do him no harm. Smoke accentuates his presence. When he is gone – you can see the office up in flames. He’s brutal. He’s invincible. He is the almighty of our digital world.’

  Rafiq shook his head in wonder. What Kalimbhai said must be true.

  ‘He’s left behind crumbs for us to follow. Phone number. User logs. IP addresses. Zip drive with malicious malware. And a dummy Norman webpage with the domain registered to one Chuck Norris. I don’t think Chuck Norris will be of any help, but all the other leads can surely help us trace who he was,’ said Pankaj.

  Pankaj was sitting in Rana’s office and spoke with the authority of a leader. ‘I must say you lack the basic – I mean level-one – security infrastructure. But I have a question. How valuable is this stolen information? I mean, can someone monetize the information?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ replied Rana.

  ‘Do you know what RAT is?’

  ‘Pity we couldn’t defend ourselves,’ said Rana, lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘I know it must be upsetting. But I assure you we can do better. Here, these IP logs can give away the location of the cyber-attack.’ Pankaj pointed to the screen of his laptop. ‘I told you I have a copy of this programme so this makes it easier to trace the origin of the attack. But there’s one thing I must admit. He is more powerful than all you guys put together! In one hour, he totally had you under his control.’

  ‘I run an empire,’ declared Rana. ‘And in my empire there’s only one rule. My rule. Anyone disrupting my rule must go.’

  ‘Now you’re talking like a boss!’ Pankaj smiled.

  Rana reached for the intercom and activated the speaker mode. A ringing sound could be heard from the speaker before a voice answered. Rana wasted no time in giving his brother instructions.

  ‘Samba, you call Bhardwaj and tell him to come to my office –’

  ‘– Bhardwaj? You mean Superintendent Bhardwaj?’

  ‘Yes, tell him I want him in my office immediately. Connect me to the chief minister’s office. And listen, we are setting up a command room, here in the office. One more thing, I want to leave a video message for Kanu.’

  TEN

  27–31 December 2006

  K

  anu knew he needed a better way to store and back-up Sathyamev’s digital files. He was also sure Rana and his team would eventually figure out the origins of the attack. The first piece of evidence against him was the command and control IP addresses hidden in the malware. Also, instinctively, he knew Rana would set his men after him, even before getting the forensic report of the malware.

  Kanu couldn’t stay at his place and visiting the cyber café meant putting Bansi at risk.

  Only one man could help him.

  Kelkar was at his desk reviewing his students’ paperwork when Kanu walked in.

  ‘Good to see you, Kanu,’ Kelkar said. ‘Have a seat. Look at these papers! No one is interested in learning these days …’

  ‘Sir, I need your help.’

  ‘Yeah? Tell me.’

  Kanu placed the hard disc on Kelkar’s desk.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘Sir, I need help linking these files to this server.’ Kanu pulled out a piece of paper with a handwritten web address and a password code. ‘These are compressed and password-protected files. Around 3 GB of data.’

  ‘You look a little worked up. Is anything the matter? Please have a seat.’

  ‘No sir, I’ve some unfinished work. Got to go now.’

  Kanu stepped inside the waiting auto rickshaw and instructed the driver to take him to the Secunderabad railway station. As the rickshaw sped down the busy S.D. Road, Kanu felt a vibration in his pocket. He pulled out his cell phone and saw an incoming video message from an unknown number. Without thinking, he hit the OK button.

  ‘Good work there, Kanu …’ Rana gave a discreet smile as he appeared on the mobile screen, ‘… if you try to damage my business …’ Kanu pushed the pause button below the screen.

  ‘Can you please stop the vehicle?’ he shouted. As the rickshaw stopped, he stepped out, chest pounding, hands tightening on the handset.

  Rana’s presence on the screen was hazy and disorienting, partly because of the moving vehicle, but partly because of the buzzing in Kanu’s head. Now, out in the open, Rana sounded even more menacing: ‘If you try to damage my business, I will destroy you. You know the one that sits in a wheelchair. If you try to kill my business, I will kill you.’

  Kanu’s gaze remained fixed to the mobile screen, his hands closing over Rana’s face as the screen cracked into pieces. The image of Rana vanished behind broken glass.

  At 6 p.m. on Friday, 29 December, the Hyderabad police released mugshots of Kanu. The suspect was charged with ‘aggravated kidnapping’ of a twenty-one-year-old girl called Rita Shah. It was believed Superintendent Bhardwaj’s office had made a special arrangement to trace and arrest the suspect.

  Almost immediately, police spread out across Secunderabad. Simultaneously, they raided MNR Cyber Café and shut it down. A dedicated battalion patrolled around Kanu’s last known residence.

  Kanu studied the traffic movement. There was no indication of Rana’s men on the street. Still, he knew the streets were too dangerous for him, day o
r night.

  Earlier that evening, he had made a call to Bansi’s number, which went unanswered. Now Kanu feared the worst. Would they try to harm Bansi?

  Kanu dialled Bansi’s number from a pay phone. On the fourth ring, Bansi answered.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Bansi, it’s me.’

  ‘Where the hell are you? Listen, I am outside the police station. They shut us off. Now these people are searching for you. I think they broke into your house too. You are wanted for kidnapping a girl.’

  ‘Kidnapping?’

  ‘Yes, kidnapping. I am at the police station trying to get details from the officer. Listen, there’s a warrant against you.’

  ‘How can they issue a warrant against me?’

  ‘I can’t say more right now. Where are you?’

  ‘I’m on my way.’

  ‘No …’

  ‘… don’t even think of coming anywhere close to this area.’ Bansi’s voice was being recorded in a hastily set up three-screen computer command centre at the nineteenth-floor conference room. Two technicians wearing red uniforms worked on computers that displayed hundreds of numbers. One number in particular was prominent on the screen, creating continuous waves in sync with the voice audible over the speaker.

  ‘Shit, man! How could anyone charge me with kidnapping a girl? They’re framing me!’

  ‘You took on a bunch of big people – these people are criminals. I got to go. You take care, buddy.’

  ‘Listen, you don’t worry about a thing. I will call when I am in a position to –’

  The line disconnected, and the oscillating waves stopped.

  Rana stood alongside Pankaj, taking note of the voice messages.

  ‘Can you trace Kanu’s location?’ asked Rana.

  ‘No, he is calling from a fixed line. We can track the other guy’s location,’ replied Pankaj.

  ‘Okay. Let’s keep a watch on the other guy. Kanu will definitely contact him again. This control room is yours,’ Rana said.

  Kanu emerged from the pay phone booth and approached the waiting rickshaw, but the wailing sound of an ambulance made him turn around sharply. A shudder crept down his spine as he saw the vehicle, its lights flashing, storming into a park lane that led to the CTC Complex. In no time, the ambulance wailed its way back out of the premises. Kelkar?

  When Kanu reached the place, onlookers were discussing the standoff at the NIIIT office.

  ‘What happened? Please, somebody, tell me what happened?’ Kanu asked.

  ‘They took Kelkar to the hospital. It all happened so fast,’ said one onlooker.

  ‘I could hear the noises, but I couldn’t do anything,’ replied the fifth-floor security guard. ‘I came in from the classroom, but before I got here, they had already beaten him up bad.’

  The shopkeeper from the adjacent shop spoke up. ‘They had guns and ordered us to stay inside. They wore helmets. It was all over in a minute. They collected the money from the desk and fled.’

  Kanu examined the ransacked office and the upturned desk drawer. The disc was gone.

  Kanu could see a couple of men looking at him intently from the side of the open corridor. He was being shadowed. There were more men moving outside.

  Kanu slipped out of the building as silently as he could. Out in the open, SISI men were on the lookout, trying to close in on him on the busy street. But, before they could cross over, Kanu disappeared into the darkness.

  From a distance, Kanu could see Bansi waiting next to several parked taxis near the Secunderabad Rail Nilayam. As he approached the taxi stand, he noticed his friend shouting, rising on his toes, his hands waving.

  Kanu could barely hear Bansi’s voice, but the gesture was unmistakable. He slowed his pace and held his breath as he began to turn around.

  Suddenly, he heard the sounds of a harsh slap followed by a scream from behind. Kanu spun around to see a young man wearing a long coat kneeling beside two motionless bodies. In a flash, the man in the long coat had overpowered two uniformed men and he was clearly ready for more.

  Kanu tried to run in the opposite direction, but the voice of the man in the long coat made Kanu stop in his tracks.

  ‘Kanu, you’ve made plenty of enemies. That’s not a good sign.’

  Under the floodlights the man’s face looked familiar.

  ‘Bala?’ mumbled Kanu.

  ‘I was tracking the SISI phone chatter. One of them was instructed to finish you,’ said Bala as he walked towards Kanu.

  ‘Bala!’ Kanu gasped.

  ‘Even now you don’t recognize me, do you?’

  ‘I’m so happy to see you. Where have you been?’ Kanu lunged forward to hug his elder brother.

  Bala had always been the stronger brother, even when fighting the school bullies. In Kanu’s world, Bala was a hero, and his presence meant things were looking up.

  Bala was three years older than Kanu, and they were more than just brothers. They were childhood friends. They grew up in the same house in Kompally and studied in the same school. They played gully cricket together and fought battles like real WWF wrestlers. They saw the world through the same eyes until their father, Vasu, decided to send Bala to the Dhoon Boarding School. Bala was barely ten. In the same year Vasu established Sathyamev Computers.

  As the years went by, the brothers hardly met. Bala had only come home once since the tragic incident involving their father. He believed everything Kanu said about the incident. But the circumstances were different. No one in the family cared to listen to the boys.

  ‘Railway Nilayam, where wagons are repaired, you couldn’t pick a better place to meet?’ said Bala.

  ‘I wanted to leave a message before it was too late,’ said Kanu.

  ‘Leave a message?’

  Before Kanu could reply, Bansi had reached them.

  ‘Bhai, nice kick! That was super cool, just like in computer games,’ he said.

  ‘Bansi, this is my brother, Bala,’ said Kanu.

  ‘There’s no time for introductions, Kanu.’ Bala looked concerned as he glanced around the empty street. ‘What’s your next move? We don’t have time.’

  Just then, a crash echoed through the quiet street. A car had smashed through the barrier, and they could hear gunshots coming from its direction.

  Bansi hunched behind Bala to shield himself, as Bala took cover behind a car in the parking lot.

  Kanu realized this was not the time to fight back. He ran to the top of the staircase that led to the platform, just as a train thundered past him, too fast to board. But there was another train waiting on the tracks, ready to depart.

  Kanu knew what he had to do. He called out to his brother and ran towards the train, trying to push open the door of an AC coach. Before Bala and Bansi could reach him, Kanu was already inside the coach. Stretching his hand out, Kanu pulled them in.

  No one gave chase.

  ‘The city is not safe for you. You have to get out of here,’ said Bala, looking at Kanu.

  ‘Will you come with me?’

  ‘It’s your fight, Kanu. I’m here only to support you.’

  ‘I’ll never understand why you take sides. This is not just my fight. It’s our fight.’

  ‘Mom and dad are with me, you know that. He is not well.’ Bala shook his head as he continued. ‘There are two ways to approach this situation. Pull your enemy’s tail and continue this game of cat and mouse. Or be with the family and take care of them. I chose the latter.’ Bala was always the stronger of the two. He was the adopted one. He had more responsibilities.

  ‘I know I may be irresponsible …’

  ‘You are brave. It’s your destiny to do the right thing.’

  ‘But Sathyamev has grown way too big. I’ve tried everything. They just keep growing bigger and stronger.’

  ‘Remember, it’s only Sathyamev that can bring down Sathyamev. The company will kill itself,’ replied Bala.

  Kanu looked at his brother, trying hard to make sense of his advice. Bala smiled a
nd nodded his head. ‘You’re doing the right thing. Here, this is a card of a man who can help you in Mumbai. He’s a stock market analyst. Take care.’

  Kanu did not look at the card. He hugged Bala and then Bansi as the train slowed near Begumpet station.

  ‘Bansi, this is for Darshu.’ Kanu pulled out a hand-written note from his pocket and gave it to Bansi. ‘I couldn’t meet her, please say sorry on my behalf.’

  ‘You take care, buddy, and call me whenever you need any help.’ Bansi smiled before walking out of the coach.

  Moments later, Bansi and Bala stood silently on the platform as the carriage disappeared round the corner of the station.

  ELEVEN

  One year later

  6–31 December 2007

  K

  anu leaned forward, his elbows up on the hard, white marble surface of the reception desk at the Hotel Royal-Hilton in Mumbai. He was wearing a fashionably-tailored gray suit, buttoned-down white shirt and a navy-blue tie, slightly loosened at the neck. A leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder made him appear like a businessman, an outsider to the city.

  ‘The room number is three-nought-six,’ Kanu said, looking at the receptionist. ‘Can you help me with the coffee-shop Wi-Fi password?’

  The receptionist smiled.

  ‘Sure, sir!’ she replied. Then she scribbled a number on a pad and held out a piece of paper to him. ‘Here, this will be your passcode. Rates are mentioned on the back. Can I get your signature on the copy, please?’ she said.

  Kanu pulled out a pen and signed the copy – Sarvasya, a new name Kanu had picked during his stay at the hotel. The receptionist studied the signature and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Minutes later, Kanu was inside the coffee shop and saw the place for what it was: a group of young men gathered around the billing system, a middle-aged white man staring at his laptop, a young couple sipping their lattes while staring at the screens of their mobile phones.