SILENT AS THE DEAD: A Deadly Cyber Chase Begins

by Sanjib Sinha

  A fat young technician sneaked into the cable room, large enough as a football ground. He knew his each step. He went to a particular joint and unplugged a queer looking small machine from it.

  In the cold rainy morning he was sweating profusely. He was excited and he was tensed. It was his final exploit before leaving country. This time he expected more exploits. This odd looking machine had been working like a recorder that recorded all the data passed through that particular cable through last week.

  He wanted to check it first. He left the cable room and moved straight to the third floor – there was some repair work going on and the entire floor had been kept empty. He tiptoed into an empty room and inspected carefully making sure that no one was around.

  He could not take this laptop outside. He had to keep it in his drawer.

  Six months ago he cracked the employee database of DRA. The cracker waited for a long time to have found that one technician named Aswin Ramchandran had left this place as he got a lucrative job in US.

  According to the DRA rule his account was supposed to be closed. But it didn’t apply for the whole system. The cracker came to know that fact much before as he cracked the social networking accounts of the young technician Aswin.

  Having come to know that Aswin was about to leave this place, the cracker simply cracked the DRA employee database and forced the system to obey his orders.

  He didn’t allow the system to suspend the employee account for one segment. That segment was the first entrance gate where the old punching system still worked.

  Now DRA system partly deactivated the account of Aswin; he was now a former technician in records; but it was not applied to all segments. Actually it was a design flaw in the software. Having located that hole in design the fat cracker simply impersonated Aswin and made a duplicate entry card in his name.

  The ghost of Aswin could now enter through the front gate and exit safely before anyone could notice him in the DRA.

  He took out the device; tested it and decided to go back to the hermitage. Now, almost after twenty hours, he was going to connect to the dark web again. He had good news for his dark world associates. He had collected valuable classified data. It would sell in million dollars in the dark web market.

  He didn’t notice that foreigner couple had been waiting for him outside inside a restaurant. They shadowed him like ghosts in the rain from a distance.

  He walked down the road and took a red-colored-near-empty state transport bus for the return trip. He didn’t notice a police Jeep started following the bus from a distance.

  He was tracked in the morning when he had first logged into the internet to book air tickets in a different name. His key-stroke-pattern was recognized immediately by two machines in two different places in this world.

  One in Calcutta and the other in Ekerö, Stockholm. Two wizards – PG and VOD – from the two parts of the globe kept waiting for this moment to come; for last twenty four hours they had been waiting to catch him.

  They had waited for him to log into the maze of internet. They had used the same technique – key-stroke-pattern detection software; although PG didn’t know VOD was so ruthless in pursuing his goal. VOD was confident that PG would track the killer at any cost. After all PG was the master of all trackers.

  The killer-cracker had been shadowed by both of them since then. Now he fell right into their trap.

  42. Tuesday, 4.05 PM, Chennai

  A strange custom.

  The police team had to wait outside of the hermitage for the final permission that would come from Delhi. Udit and his team had been waiting for last twenty minutes in the rain for the special permission to come.

  Udit contacted his boss – the police commissioner of Mumbai but he came to no help. This case was too high profile to tackle. The commissioner was also waiting for the Home ministry’s permission. The state home ministry was waiting for the permission that would come from Delhi Home Ministry. The central Home ministry would then ask the PMO - the Prime Mister's Office.

  Searching the hermitage of Shree BABA was not so easy. He had million followers and that made a very strong vote bank.

  An innocent looking foreigner couple entered the hermitage. They wanted to join the evening prayer and they wanted to meet Shree BABA and they wanted to donate some money for this good cause. The gatekeeper and the security guards welcomed the visitors once they heard the word ‘donation’.

  The foreigners often came here and the in-charge-of-the-gate was told to welcome them always. They usually came with huge donations and invitations.

  The man was well built and tall. His blue eyes were remote and hard. The girl was like a doll. She was always smiling and bowing her heads. She was loquacious as ever; however, the man was laconic. He looked around enquiringly. He consulted his wide screen tablet. There was a detail map of this hermitage.

  He turned left and for a moment took a look at the huge building on his left. It was actually a school building for the orphans. There was a huge play ground inside and the children were playing in groups.

  The girl asked the in-charge-of-the-gate, “Can we move around to have a look?”

  The bald fat man had a wide smile and nodded more than needed, “Oh, sure, sure. The evening prayer will take place at five-thirty sharp. After that you’ll meet BABA. You have time. Please feel at home.”

  “Is this a school?” the tall man was interested about the three storey building on his left. At the same time he was watching his tablet. In his earphone somebody kept talking and giving him the direction. The in-charge-of-the-gate was not supposed to know that so he nodded, “Yes sir.”

  The man said, “Thank you.”

  While crossing the field the tall man stopped for a moment and watched children playing. He didn’t smile.

  The in-charge-of-the-gate saw them entering the building and forgot about them. People started coming like flood water. They had marigold flower garlands in their hands; although, they were not allowed to touch Shree BABA.

  Everybody wanted to get the front seat in the prayer hall. They wanted to see BABA from a close quarter. After the prayer everyday BABA gave his small valuable speech of character-building. They were eager to hear the sound sitting before him; although, there were many loud speakers in the hall.

  The concrete staircase was long and wide. It was empty.

  The tall man stopped for a moment before ascending the sweeping staircase. He consulted his tab where a green dot was beeping silently. He talked to someone lowering his voice using the ear-phone that hung loosely over his tall well-built body.

  He took a look at the ceiling. There was no CCTV installed.

  The doll like girl was no more talking. She whispered, “The last room at the end.”

  “The last room at the end.” The man repeated and took confirmation from the anonymous guy he had been talking to over his ear-phones.

  They climbed up the staircase effortlessly to the third floor. The veranda was empty. Before making any move they looked down and saw the field where people were gathering like flood water. They marched down the corridor silently and reached the last room.

  The girl knocked the door gently.

  A fat young man with a deep cut mark on his chin opened the door. He looked at her enquiringly. The girl smiled a million-dollar-smile and asked in husky voice, “We are visitors; looking around. I am thirsty; can I have…”

  The fat man didn’t see the tall man outside and invited her, “Oh, sure. Please come in.”

  The girl looked around the room. There was only a laptop on the bed.

  When the man turned around and filling the glass with water the tall foreigner entered silently. In a lightening speed he moved near the fat-man and with his strong left hand pressed his mouth from behind. His right hand was busy with a small syringe. He put it under his skin and injected something. The girl took a look at outside and closed the door.

  There was no one in the corridor.

  It took less tha
n one and half minute. They gave the weighty body a hard pull and placed the body on the bed. It looked like the man was sleeping; he was already dead.

  The tall man placed his palm near his throat and nodded to the girl. The girl shut down the laptop and took it inside her backpack.

  The fat man with a deep cut mark on his chin was silent as a dead.

  They came out of the room and climbed down the stair talking with each other casually.

  43. Tuesday, 4.22 PM, Calcutta, Chennai

  The green light suddenly stopped blinking.

  PG didn’t notice it first. Rahela pointed it out and PG sat up and took notice. He was tired; he was in need of sleep very badly. The whole affair had been the most nerve-raking thing he’d ever experienced.

  It was the only sign of the killer-cracker; the green light was blinking on his monitor in Calcutta. It was the only sign of the killer’s existence and it also showed his location. As long as the light was there PG knew the cracker was connected to the internet. His last weapon to detect the killer was the key-stroke-pattern software which was extremely complex. Each human being typed differently. It was like fingerprint or hand-writing. One couldn’t copy other.

  PG had first detected him in the morning; however, he couldn’t have done anything except alerting Udit in Chennai. The anonymous killer took shelter inside the hermitage of Shree GURU. It was like an impregnable fort. Udit had to wait for the permission; although, he had the arrest warrant.

  PG called up Udit and told him the situation.

  PG said, “The light went off. If you don’t make the move it’ll be too late. We couldn’t trace him after that.”

  Udit said, his voice reflected sheer frustration, “What can I do PG? I can’t move on my own. I need permission.”

  PG said, “Tell them he’s got classified data. If he escapes, that will be a disaster. He’ll sell the information to our enemy country. He was still there few minutes back. We can’t catch him any more if he doesn’t connect to the internet again.”

  Udit got the clue and repeated the same thing to the commissioner. The commissioner placed the same logic before the state Home Minister. The Home minister called up his Delhi counterpart and vomited the same – ‘Our country’s honour at stake. He's got the classified data. He stole the data from DRA.’

  After a brief discussion the ministers agreed, “It’ll be a disaster. Moreover, if media come to know they will stir up a real hornet’s nest.”

  After seven minutes Udit got the nod from Mumbai with a caveat: You must search the compound without disturbing Shree BABA.

  Udit called up PG; he was excited, “We’re moving. Let me check the position. Please give me the location where you have last located him.”

  PG sat up and sighed, “At last! Okay, move straight and turn left. He was probably inside a building.”

  Udit entered with his team and the security-in-charge at the gate alerted the personal secretary of Shree BABA. Shree was taking preparation for his weekly sermon-of-character-building. He understood the situation in a fraction of second. He whispered something in secretary’s left ear. His right ear didn’t function properly.

  The secretary, a middle aged fat man with huge paunch, tried to run. There was already huge crowd gathered for the prayer. The secretary pushed and shoved them as he tried to reach the school building. He had to reach to Ramalu before police team could reach there.

  He came puffing up the stairs and reached the room. He pushed the door open and gave a loud shriek - "Ai, ai yo."

  Ramalu lay on the bed. His skin turned complete green. His eyes were wide open. He looked like a resting monster.

  The man turned back and heard the footsteps. Udit reached the spot with his team.

  The scene held them spellbound. The radioactive poison changed the dead body’s color from top to bottom.

  44. Tuesday, 12.41PM, Ekerö, Stockholm

  ‘Valley of Death’ was contented.

  He heard the news. John called him up from Karachi. The target was down and he won’t sing any more.

  He sat quietly before his central monitor. There was an activity. Someone wanted to talk to you; it was PG.

  VOD smiled. He knew PG would talk to him. He was confident that PG would track that bastard along with him. Few minutes before or after. But PG had a problem. He didn’t have connection with men like John. He would never have it; VOD knew it. For that reason PG was known as ‘Perfect Gentleman’ in the hacking community and he was known was ‘Valley of death.’

  He scanned his retina and booted his machine and keyed in, “Welcome PG. I know you’d contact me.”

  PG wrote back, “VOD, did you have to kill him?”

  VOD wrote, “I didn’t want to do that PG. I hate killing people. But think about the situation if he runs the Voice Sampling Search against me. The NSA people will pay him million dollars for getting my location. It’s too risky. The child gets spoiled and he should remain silent as the dead.”

  “I understand.” PG was typing back, “But I have a request VOD.”

  “Tell me PG. I always reserve a special corner for you in my mind.”

  “Please give back his laptop. We need it.”

  “Laptop?” VOD was shocked and he expressed that, “I don’t know anything about the laptop PG. Believe me.”

  “I believe you VOD. But tell me, where is his laptop? It should have been there beside his dead body. But it was not there. The killer must have taken it.”

  VOD was silent for a second and didn’t key his response. John didn’t tell him anything about the laptop.

  He finally wrote, “Okay PG, I’ll enquire about it and let you know once I get any information.”

  “Thank you VOD for your kind response.”

  The middle-aged hacker-wizard seemed to be thoughtful. He really didn’t know anything about the laptop. John’s men must have taken it.

  He dialled John’s number. John responded, “Yes, VOD.”

  “John, I have a query.”

  “Tell me VOD. What do you want to know?”

  “Your men picked up a laptop from the spot. I thought Indian police may have confiscated it. But, they haven’t got the laptop. Where is it?”

  John seemed embarrassed and it reflected in his voice, “Sorry VOD. I really didn’t expect it. They were not supposed to take anything. I’ll talk to them and let you know.”

  “Please John, I feel really curious about the laptop.”

  VOD came out of his room. The beautiful lake, colourful boats and pleasant scenery didn’t impress him. He seemed thoughtful.

  He returned back to his cockpit-like-computer-cabin. Early in the morning when he detected the cracker-thief first he made a clone of his laptop.

  He was curious to know whether the laptop had the stolen software ‘Voice Sampling Search’ or VSS. It wasn’t there and he was happy about that.

  He scanned his retina again and booted his home system.

  After a few minute he muttered a strange sound in shock. He only searched for VSS and was satisfied that it was not there. He couldn’t have thought about the other staff.

  Tons of classified data. The cracker-thief must have stolen it from Indian Defence Research Centre. Now it was clear why John’s men had picked up the laptop.

  Now it was also clear why PG was so anxious.

  The laptop contained classified data that would fetch million dollars in the dark web.

  Epilogue

  Two months later, PG got a phone call – it was Rahela.

  He looked at the phone screen for some time and smiled. He remembered the last month call made by Rahela. He was supposed to call her back and he forgot.

  PG smiled, “Hi Rahela, how are you?”

  “I am fine, how about you? Are you busy? Can I talk to you now?”

  PG said, “Yes, of course. How about your new job in the NGO?”

  “It’s going fine. I called you up last month, and asked you one question, remember?

  “Yes, you
asked me – ‘where I’ll find you?’ And yes, I was supposed to call you back, but, sorry… I forgot it completely. I am so sorry Rahela. I had been so busy with a project. Please don’t mind.”

  “I know, I didn’t mind. You’re too busy a person and I’m not that interesting person to talk to.”

  “No, not at all. I’m not a busy person at all and you are really an interesting person to talk to. But the problem is…you've heard about the lost laptop. The central agency wants my help, but....I'm still undecided.”

  Rahela stopped for a moment and then exulted, “The problem is you have no time to talk to me over a cup of coffee. Isn’t it? PG, have you heard the news?”

  “What?”

  “Jacky Sen is in jail; last night special investigating team has arrested him from Singapore for money-laundering.”

  “Huh? Good news. Actually I hardly have time to go through the daily news so … you know the situation here.”

  Rahela chortled with glee, “You need a secretary PG, that’s what I wanted to say you. I assure you, I’d tackle your every job properly so that you could spend more time on computer.”

  PG sighed, “Hum…, the proposition seems attractive.”

  “And…, what about me?”

  There was a complete silence, looming on the line.

  PG said, “Oh, Rahela, I shouldn't think about it. Look, I don’t trust myself. I am too frail, you know.”

  “I don’t think so. I saw no sign of frailty. You have one and only weakness – computer.”

  PG stopped for a moment and then said, “You are wrong, Rahela. You’re a beautiful person but, you know, I am not that type of a good man. You don't know my true self. Even I don't know!”