SILENT AS THE DEAD: A Deadly Cyber Chase Begins

by Sanjib Sinha

  The police commissioner finally gave his verdict, “We can’t just sit back without taking any action. Udit..,” he turned to the assistant police commissioner of detective department. He was also in charge of Mumbai cyber crime cell.

  Udit responded, “Yes sir.”

  “Do something. Can’t you trace that man? There must have been some digital footprints.” The police commissioner tried to impress everyone with his hacking vocabulary.

  “Sir, we need to hire a good hacker. We have no option left. We’ve tried our level best.”

  The police commissioner heaved his massive bulk and moved towards the door, “Do, what you think necessary. Don’t waste time. Send the girl home. Arrange proper security for her. And..,” he stopped before the door and continued, “Remember this guy can do anything. We must stop him immediately. Do everything needed to stop him.” He stressed on the word ‘stop’.

  Sarika was absent minded but she was happy that the commissioner had understood her dilemma. She had heard that word – ‘hacker’ – before. But she couldn’t associate that word with her case. Few minutes back she heard another word – ‘social engineer’. New words were entering into her urban dictionary now.

  Those words came to stay with her for the rest of her life.

  16. Sunday, 1:35 PM, Calcutta

  He knew the rule - 'greed makes you poor.'

  While returning home PG didn’t take the limousine ride offered by Jacky Sen. Now he had enough money to hire a cab himself. He came out outside in the rain. There were no taxies. Getting taxi in Calcutta especially in such inclement weather was next to meeting God.

  It didn’t rain persistently. It stopped; it breathed; and it rained again. The view of the cityscape morphed into pale morbidity. Every building looked like a morgue and the sky had a hopeless look; it promised more rain later.

  He thought about the morning while walking towards the bus stand in the steady drizzle. No one knew his exact location and he didn’t share it with any except one very special friend. It was the first rule of the hacking community – ‘a true hacker stayed anonymous; always’.

  If someone wanted to locate him now through his smart phone using GPS, it would always show the exact opposite direction of the globe. It had been programmed in that manner.

  He looked at his smart phone. It was receiving signals and messages from Jacky Sen’s mobile. He turned on the software he had just installed on Jacky’s mobile. Now the software hatched its egg and was able to copy every signal and electronic pulse and faithfully recorded everything into a log file. Later he could glance through them in his leisure time in his home system. Now he was able to listen to every word Jacky was saying to someone.

  PG was curious about the video. He was not interested about Jacky’s personal business. He switched on the software and started listening to the hoarse voice of Jacky while walking. It suddenly made him stop. Jacky was now talking to a girl. And it was about none other than him.

  PG appeared unmoved as Jacky was giving instructions to the girl to follow him.

  Jacky said, “Have you found that old rascal? He had white hair, a beer belly and he walks slowly, limping like a kangaroo.”

  The girl said, “Yes sir, I got the subject. I’m following him from a distance. He has just crossed the Camack Street junction.”

  Jacky said, “Very good, Tate. Follow him and know the exact location where he lives. I want that. It’s urgent.”

  “Should I do anything else sir?” asked the girl?

  “Not now. I just want to keep a watch on him. I need his address.”

  “Okay sir, I’ll come back and report you.”

  The line was disconnected. But it pricked his ear! Jacky told the girl to follow him because he wanted to know his address. But for bloody what reason he wanted that?

  PG was smiling. He whispered, “Okay, here it is for you mother sucker.”

  The rain stopped. A large group of people suddenly descended on the street making it look more congested than it normally looked. He didn’t want to do anything so that it would raise the suspicion of his follower. He was walking slowly, limped a little bit as described by Jacky. Like a kangaroo.

  Jacky described him as a ‘rascal’ who walked ‘slowly, limping like a kangaroo’. It was quite a natural reaction from a man who had lost more than one hundred thousand in the morning. PG stopped at the roadside and picked up his smart device from his black bag.

  It was a smart tracker.

  He ran his special software – it was called ‘Sweet-Ass-Licker’. It started tracking the girl’s number. The follower was now within his fifty meters radius, and holy sheet it was coming closer slowly. But it also tracked another number. It was unknown but what the smart device showed was amazing. This number had been sticking around him like a hawkish eagle for a long time since he entered Jacky’s office.

  It was really strange! Who could be the second follower?

  “You have many visitors, PG.” he was whispering while walked past the tallest building of Calcutta – The 42, a residential skyscraper. He moved towards the park street junction – it seemed to be more congested at this time. He walked past the Park hotel, Oxford book center, and crossing the street opposite the Asiatic society he suddenly jumped on a running bus. It was moving towards College Street.

  He had chalked out an elaborate plan to shake them off while he was walking.

  17. Sunday, 1:42 PM, Mumbai

  Udit Kashyap was young and ambitious.

  This IPS officer wanted to make it big in a short time. And here he had got a chance. This crime really shook the Mumbai police. It was not traditional crime. Enemy had been invisible since it started functioning. He’d strike anywhere any time. Udit sensed this case could be a match-winner for him.

  When Udit took the charge of the cyber crime cell he knew it was not strong enough. It was in nascent stage. Few computer scientists along with young sub-inspectors – all total there were only six persons. It was too difficult for these young kids to tackle such vicious and cunning criminal who changed his identity in a second.

  The killer had almost killed Sarika. It was pure luck that the girl – Sarika had been saved! Udit was sitting in his desk with tons of printouts. His assistants had been trying hard. They had blocked two vague accounts of Rajat Kapoor and Sarab Mehta.

  But where was the lead? Where were the IP-addresses that the cracker had used? They had tried their best to locate the physical addresses and failed. No trace of the murderous hacker. Not a single digital footprint was retrieved since they had started trying to track the cracker.

  Udit was standing near the window watching aimlessly. Before his eyes huge swaths of Mumbai city – a concrete jungle lay still. On opposite side the busy Crawford market was doing its regular business.

  ‘It's so frustrating.’ He thought, ‘We don’t even crack his physical address. We haven’t traced him out. And it seems impossible.’

  He was staring slothfully. He could see the long stretch of cityscape – beyond the market – it was the commercial capital of India – Mumbai. Skyscrapers, flyovers, cars, and millions of busy people with different motifs. They had made this city so boisterous and so vulnerable. Where would he find the man with a cut mark on his chin?

  The killer had struck and just vanished into the vast blue.

  ‘We can’t let them vanish into blue!’ Who said this? Suddenly Udit felt that at last he could see the light at the end of the dark tunnel. Rakesh said this; he remembered their last meeting in a cyber crime conference. Rakesh told about a hacker – he had originally said that word – ‘we cannot let the criminals vanish into blue.’

  Rakesh Chowdhury was his batch mate while they had been doing the Indian Police Service training for few years – together. Rakesh was in charge of Calcutta cyber cell and once in a difficult online bank fraud Rakesh took help from a renowned hacker and was able to bust an international gang. It was a very sensational case and the national media went gaga about the suc
cess of Calcutta police.

  Udit turned round and almost raced towards his desk. He was muttering, ‘We need a good hacker. Rakesh can help me.’

  He dialled his number and patiently listened to the ‘bur… bur..’ sound for some time.

  “Yes Udit, how are you?” Rakesh was on the line with his usual polite and friendly voice.

  “I am fine, boss, how about you?”

  “I am fine Udit. It’s been raining here in Calcutta, you know.”

  “It’s sunny and very humid in Mumbai. How about the job?” Udit queried.

  Rakesh said, “You know everyday pressures are mounting. Everything is politics now.”

  Udit came to the point at once. He was in bloody hurry.

  “Boss, I need your help.”

  “Go ahead boss.”

  They used to call each other ‘Boss’ and it had been an old practice since their IPS training. They were good friends.

  Udit told him the whole story very briefly and lastly added, “We need a good hacker, a bloody good hacker who could counter this criminal-cracker-and-social-engineer. You know someone who had helped you in the international cyber fraud; remember?”

  Rakesh said, “Yes, he is PG. I take his help almost in all digital cases now. He is one of the best in the world but he keeps extremely low profile. In the morning one businessman asked me for his number; although, I haven't followed it up.”

  “You mean it’s difficult to catch him?”

  “It depends. In general he is extremely helpful. But it depends. He usually stays anonymous so you have to follow his guidelines. If he doesn’t like you he just vanishes into the blue – he once told me that term. He is one of the major contributors to the Artificial Intelligence growth so far I know. He often travels to US and in some encryption cases, NSA had sought his help before. I don’t know the exact detail but he is certainly one of the best.”

  “You mean he’s developing artificial intelligence? It sounds interesting boss. Will you kindly refer my name? I need his help so badly. I just can’t trace this bastard out. He’ll kill people if he stays outside. It cannot go on like this.”

  “Okay Udit. I’m trying to catch him at earliest. I’ll let you know ASAP.”

  “His name is PG? Isn’t it?”

  “Yah, everyone calls him that way.”

  “Very interesting name, but I need his help Rakesh. Please let me know.”

  “Yah, sure boss. Don’t worry.” Rakesh assured him.

  18. Sunday, 1:46 PM, Calcutta

  The warning was ominous - 'Beware of pickpockets.'

  Suddenly PG thought about the bunch of money he was carrying in his bag and thought: ‘Calcutta is the heaven for them. I must get down as quickly as possible’.

  The distance between him and the followers had started reducing again. The followers had probably taken a taxi or riding motor bikes to follow this bus. No problem, he had a solution for that. The rain and cold weather made the street empty. The bus crossed esplanade and after arriving Wellington Square it turned left towards College Street.

  The bus pulled in opposite a “SHIVA MANDIR” – the temple of God Shiva; it stopped for some time and the helper and the conductor got down as if the last stop had come and they'd not proceed further; they were reciting the names-of-the-next-stops like number-table to attract more passengers who were lacking in quantity in the rain. At the same time the inside-passengers protested vehemently. One of them shouted, "Go to their homes and call them idiot."

  The restless passengers threw all types of selected-slang towards the driver who couldn’t leave the bus; some of them ordered him to drive the bus. How could he drive without the conductor? Usually every bus driver seemed to be deaf-and-dumb and they never answered back. They had special-slang-resistant-ears.

  PG got down hurriedly and crossed the street. He had no time to enjoy this fun now.

  One of the most congested streets of Calcutta – PREM CHAND BORAL STREET – started from here. It moved towards east side of the city. From the central Calcutta region millions of office-people walked through this narrow street to cut short their way towards SEALDAHA station. This was extremely busy and congested place. On both side of the tapered lane there were old run-down buildings, threatening to fall into pieces any time. There was a long stretch, a Red Light Area – not as big as SONAGACHI – but not small either.

  PG chose this place to get down from the bus. He badly needed a large gathering of people. He had other intentions too.

  It was a narrow lane and lot of people were moving past the girls; standing in front of their doors, laughing, smoking, passing lewd comments to the passers-by. This lane was known as infamous ‘HAR KATA GOLI’ of Calcutta. As rumour went the first dissection of human body was done here by a renowned doctor in the British period. He used to teach anatomy. Now the girls taught different type of anatomy. Medical College of Calcutta was located on just opposite side to this sub-alley.

  He found a good solution at last. He entered the maze of alleys. Lot of people surrounded him immediately. He could be as anonymous as anyone here. Not that all people were passing through this lane with one and only intention; many of them chose to stay passive viewers of the flesh-show – a strange vague voyeuristic pleasure.

  Both the followers had stopped. Probably they had lost his track which was quite natural among this stream of walking-people.

  As he walked down the narrow lane, the distance between them was increasing again. It was so simple to get rid of any uninvited guest in Calcutta! But he stopped.

  He thought: ‘Let me see them.’ There was a girl who was following him on Jacky’s instruction. But there was another mysterious follower who had been shadowing him since the morning. He suddenly remembered the snooping-episode. Someone must have tapped the Jacky’s phone line. He should fish him out. The number was recorded in tracker device. He would go home and find the details.

  He turned left and took the ‘MANGALA LANE’. It would take him back to the main street again. He had to pass through few houses full with painted girls standing on the door-step and they were hurling naughty shrieks to the old man. They suspected him as a pervert aged man who was trawling alone the red light district.

  He saw a sad looking young girl standing alone in front of a door. It seemed the girl was new and minor and she had definitely been brought by somebody from her village. She did not learn how to woo the odd customers.

  Ah, at last, he got a paid-toilet. A colourless signboard hung above the door.

  He sneaked inside and locked the door inside. It was simply hell. Slang words and expressions were written and drawn freely over the wall. It seemed many artists and poets had visited this place before. They thought to educate and entertain other visitors and used the wall for those generous efforts.

  He locked the door. He ignored the foul smell and tried to change quickly. He wanted to come out from his disguise. That was the first thing he had to do.

  Unclothing his typical white shirt first was his first priority. Next his white hair and beard disappeared quickly. He took off the specially fitted extra pads from his body mass and from his black small bag that he was carrying till now, a big red backpack came out. He was no longer wearing the white shirt. Inside there was a black round neck t-shirt. He staffed everything materials of his veil of secrecy into his red backpack.

  While coming out from the toilet, he morphed into a different person. The real PG.

  A tall dark handsome man with cropped black hair and clean shaven strong jaw came out under the grey overcast sky with a red backpack. He looked like anyone else but not an old man any more. He had just left his artificial past now!

  He took a turn and through a bye-lane he came back to the main road again. Now he was closing down to the followers again but from their back side.

  His tracker device showed one number, it still existed close to him. He opened the GPS tracker – another tool-software he had made casually much earlier. It showed only the girl – deput
ed by Jacky Sen. Another stalker had moved outward to a good distance – probably he found this cat-and-mouse game tiring enough since morning. So he retired.

  PG murmured, “I won’t let you retire man. I’ll definitely find out who you are and why you’re following me?”

  The girl was still hoping to catch the old man so she waited. She could not take the firm decision to leave finally. She had probably a faint hope to find out the old man again so she lingered for a while. He was no longer much careful enough to hide his ass into the crowd. The girl was searching for a fat old man with white hair and white beard. He was almost close and was waiting behind a pillar of an old building. He sent an anonymous call signal. It was a virtual call that actually did not exist. The mobile which was getting the ping would either ring or vibrate. Actually it was a trap to find out the tracker.

  He was watching with curiosity. The tower location showed the girl was within a few feet. There were three young girls probably waiting for the bus.

  Two of them were standing like statues hooked to their smart phones – they were probably checking messages.

  One of them – the tall and lanky girl with small round bottom was watching aimlessly. She picked her phone hurriedly.

  Did he see it correctly? He waited for a few second and sent the same virtual call again. And again that girl with good round shaped bottom picked up her phone hurriedly. He didn’t imagine it. A nice looking young girl had taken orders from a buffoon like Jacky Sen and followed him all along. She looked quite helpless now.

  He murmured softly, “Sorry girl.”

  He watched her for some time and left the place in ubiquitous sadness.

  It made him more sad and gloomy. He had already felt sad, since he saw the little village girl standing against a dark blue door in a cheap-red-mini-skirt. The despicable copy-dress aggravated only her malnutrition sans any sex appeal. She was standing for a stranger to come in the rain; he would take her weak body.