by Sanjib Sinha
Rakesh said, “Okay.” He disconnected immediately.
PG explained this strange conversation to Rahela, “It means we’re tapped, so we should meet in a certain place. Rakesh knows the place and the time. Vicky will meet him and explain the whole situation. From now on Rakesh should take care of himself.”
Vicky asked, “What she’ll do. She can stay here, I think.”
Rahela said in a determined voice, “If you don’t mind I’d like to come with you. I may come to your help. I came to your help in Mumbai, please remember that.” She begged to PG.
PG smiled, “It could be dangerous Rahela.”
Rahela said, “I don’t fear death.”
For the first time in last twenty four hours Vicky had a wide grin, “That’s a good attitude. Keep it up.”
He stopped for a moment and then said, “Let me go alone and talk to Rakesh. PG you stay here so that you could complete the trace-out. I’ll call you and let you know the development.”
PG said, “That’s better, I should work on it. Let me see if I could get VOD and know about the last trace of VSS. I am really amazed how that cracker had got that valuable software?”
Rahela heaved a sigh of relief. She would love to stay here with PG.
She wanted to tell him something that she wanted to tell him alone.
31. Monday, 4.25 PM, Yelagiri
Do or die.
It was a volcanic situation. Sitting in his digital fortress the cracker felt restless. He had never used this weapon before. He actually stole this code from ‘Valley of Death’ or VOD. It was a long time back; in the black hat community VOD taught him many important lessons. VOD was a criminal hacker himself. But he was considered as a wizard; a GURU of hacking.
VOD had first stolen the code of ‘Voice Sampling Search’ and waited to be contacted by any big IT majors. Big corporations usually paid a huge amount to buy this kind of valuable source code. Sammy came to know about it through the dark web IRC. VOD launche a secret campaign through the dark web so that the news reached the corporation world.
Sammy was much younger then. VOD started putting his faith on him. Sammy was a good student listening fast. His sordid past; the story of growing out in an orphanage had moved VOD – the wizard of black hat community.
One day while learning few tricks from VOD, Sammy accidentally got the hint where VOD stored the stolen software. After that it took three months of immaculate planning that helped him stealing the source code from ‘Valley of Death’. It was not easy. It was done because VOD started relying on Sammy. He had never imagined one day his dear student Sammy would have ditched him.
Sammy had never used it before for one reason. He didn’t want to be detected with this precious source code. He knew the power of ‘Valley of Death’. He was not only a wizard, he was deadly too. He heard many bizarre stories about him. He was ruthless about his opponents and he got wide connections in the international underworld.
Sammy was not supposed to know that an old rivalry had been there in the dark web between VOD and PG for a long time. ‘Valley of Death’ had a special respect for PG always. PG had also special admiration for VOD’s genius. The respect was mutual. But their path was different. It had never met.
Their rivalry deepened during the search of the precious source code. PG lambasted VOD’s hidden den and destroyed the last trace of the stolen code. But before that Sammy had stolen that. VOD didn’t know that. Neither PG. Everybody in the hacker’s community believed it was destroyed.
Sammy kept the code for a future sale. He kept low about it. He preferred to wait a long time. He didn’t want VOD’s wrath fall upon him. So he kept mum.
It was the anger of defeat that had forced him to use this weapon to get the exact location of the Calcutta-hacker – PG. He heard his name before. But he had never imagined that one day this hacker would beat him in every step.
It was sheer anger that guided him to use his ultimate weapon – the stolen Voice Sampling Search code. In his Yelagiri warehouse he waited before the main monitor to watch the progress. It was circling around a certain spot in Calcutta. It finally detected his voice. Now it was coming closer slowly to the place where PG lived now.
An eager face, smiling, sneaked over the shoulder. It smelled pleasant as usual.
The ugly cracker, sitting before the monitor, keying furiously, stopped for a moment. The beard, touching his shoulder, and the associate smell made him little bit restless. But it was not exactly the touch or his presence, the cracker was highly disturbed watching the movement of his software. Some humongous force dragged it towards the wrong side of Globe. It showed the voice centered on a wrong place – Ukraine! From Calcutta it suddenly flew to Ukraine, the most improbable proposition on the earth. That ‘bastard son of bitch from Calcutta’ had done something again. The cracker breathed heavily.
He almost caught that son-of-a-bitch-hacker.
“What happened?” The soft voice came from behind.
Shree asked in his usual soft voice, that made him little tizzy.
He failed again. How could he manage to hide this bitter emotion of defeat? His GURU Shree knew everything. He watched everything. Nothing was hidden from his deep rooted insight. The cracker believed his great hacking power actually reflected HIS glory. It was due to his GURU’s special power he was able to overcome every obstacle he faced in this digital world.
When he stole the voice search software from another VOD’s possession he never suspected it could have a loophole. Actually it had a backdoor frailty like every human being!
He suddenly remembered, Shree had asked him a question that he forgot to answer. He had been too thoughtful for some time and became depressed about his defeat again.
He answered in negative, saying, “Something went wrong in my code BABA.” While talking to him he bowed his head, a sign of veneration.
“I hope they didn’t suspect anything.” Shree seemed unperturbed.
“No.”
The cracker didn’t hide his serious concerns. He had never faced such ignoble situation. It was a shameful failure; a tinge of dishonour, disgrace touched him. It was the defeat of the heavenly power Shree had instilled on him. He had punished himself to the extreme for any failure before. But this time he had no time to do the atonement.
He said, “I feel so ashamed BABA. I am so sorry.” He could have cut his fingers in anger – the fingers that had betrayed him in keying the most perfect code of the world.
Shree kept him very close to his chest and he felt his vigour was coming back. He felt one hand of Shree was sliding downwards. It was Shree who started fondling with his balls whispering, “Everything will be again like before my boy. You will win again. Don’t worry.”
He was not excited but felt a submission before an omnipotent force.
He repeated, “I’ll win again.”
“Yes, you’ll win again. Change the direction. If you didn’t find your target, find the very next to it. It’ll come to you.”
It was sheer magic. The man before him with a long black beard and hair was smiling and telling something that he hadn’t thought before. If you couldn’t find the exact target find something near it. It was the most basic idea of information gathering - reconnaissance.
‘Shree knows everything.’ He thought and with the thought came more respect for him. Before having started the voice sampling search he could have attacked another target – that police friend of the hacker, Rakesh Chowdhury. He had got his address already but didn’t think about it! He had done the same thing in Mumbai. Now that assistant police commissioner came under their pay-roll. He should have followed the same plan.
He first saw this man twenty years ago when he was about twelve years old. He could still remember what ‘BABA Shree’ had said to his mother then, smiling like today, “One day your son will conquer the world.”
Shree left him suddenly in a half erect position, saying, “Go, and get your target. What is the name?”
He
said as if he was in dream, “Rakesh Chowdhury. A police officer.”
“Have you got his address?”
He started keying very fast. The words read on his monitor: Rakesh Chowdhury. Assistant Police Commissioner. Calcutta Police. Address: 56/54 Bow Barrack, Calcutta.
“Bow Barrack. I heard it somewhere before. Is it in Calcutta?” Shree said.
A page from Wikipedia opened up instantly and it read:
‘Bow Barracks is located in central Kolkata — just behind the Bowbazar police station, off the Central Avenue.
The easiest way to get to Bow Barracks irrespective of the distance is to catch an underground train at the Kolkata Metro. Central Avenue and Chandni Chowk are two metro stations that will get you within a 2-minute walk of Bow Barracks.
..
The Bow Barracks was a garrison's mess built for the army during World War I. But there are no written records to prove these facts. When the soldiers left India, they handed over the apartments to the Anglo Indians who took them on rent. Today, 132 families live in the Barracks. Of them, 80 percent of the residents are Anglo Indians. It has acquired a reputation of sorts for its Christmas celebrations.’
Shree was smiling, “I know your ability my boy.”
He slid his hand again into his pants and this time Shree held the erect knob giving it a good massage. It was his way of restoring power in weak human beings. For girls he had a different treatment. He used his own knob then and made them accept it inside to get more power. In doing that before sometime few orphan girls had got pregnant in his ASHRAM.
After such incidents he created a pregnancy-manager post in his hermitage. The manager took the girls to get the abortions done secretly but before that he usually tried to assuage their worries using his own knob.
The rumour was the girls were later trafficked to Arab countries. Nobody dared to poke the nose. BABA Shree was an influential man. He had millions followers in India; it was a strong vote-bank. Ministers and political leaders regularly visited him for his blessings. He put his left hand on their heads and in wrong Sanskrit whispered something in their ears. He had never tried to handle their knobs. He knew the consequences.
Green light fell on his beard from the monitor making him look like a repulsive bear.
Sammy was not thinking about BABA’s strange behaviour. He had never questioned this saint-like man since his child days. To him it was god-touch. It would give him more strength. He believed it. He’d believe it as long as he lived.
He was now actually worrying about the lost Voice Sampling Search. What would happen if ‘Valley of Death’ came to know about it? For the first time he got his balls reached his head.
This time God’s touch didn’t heal his anxiety.
32. Monday, 5.15PM, Calcutta
He should know the truth.
Joint commissioner of police Rakesh Chowdhury was hurrying and preparing to leave his office when his intercom rang.
“Sir, it’s very urgent. Can I come to your room?”
The call came from Ami Sen. No; he was Dr. Ami Sen as he always introduced himself. A garish and irritating personality. He was a computer scientist who had joined the cyber crime cell six months ago and now worked as penetration tester and forensic expert for the Calcutta police force.
He always came to his room for one reason or other. Especially for checking his computer. It was his duty that he checked every top police officer’s computer and assured that every machine was running malware free.
Rakesh held back for a moment. He didn’t like the idea of meeting this person before leaving his office. He planned to leave without noticing anybody. Ami Sen was extremely talkative and boring.
He came in and bowed. He was a thin tall man with hawkish eyes and beaky nose with his eyes always revolving.
Rakesh asked, “What happened?” It didn’t sound very friendly.
“Sir, I have just got a message from our team that a mail is circling around our office. It contains a botnet, you know, it’s very dangerous. I need to check your computer Sir.” He stopped looking at Rakesh’ face. It was not welcoming.
He fumbled a little bit, “Are you leaving sir?”
Rakesh said laconically, “Yes.”
“Will you come back sir, I mean…” he hesitated a little bit and then added, “I can stay back for some time.”
“You need not stay for doing this.” Rakesh didn’t like his nosy questions.
He left the room.
Ami came back to his cubicle and dialled a number. It rang for sometime then someone replied in a hoarse voice, “Yes sir.”
“Joint CP has just left the office. He’s going somewhere. Follow him and tell me the place.”
“Are you mad sir? I’ll follow the joint CP? If he comes to know that, my police-job is over.”
Ami hissed like a snake, “Krishna, Do you want five thousand bucks at once in your account?”
“Okay, okay.”
“Tell me where he’s going. It’s urgent.”
“Okay sir, but I want to get the SMS from my bank. Fill up the account first then I’ll move my ass. For the last assignment you didn’t pay me full.”
“Go ahead you greedy idiot. You’ll get it soon, I’m transferring the money.”
Ami hung up the line. He looked around like a thief and got confirmed nobody was watching him. He opened up a minimized window on his monitor. It was a pornographic video. A redhead girl was sucking a dick. Ami crossed his leg and uncrossed it again. He felt uncomfortable. His dick was hard and he was constantly trying to adjust his position to get the comfort.
33. Monday, 5.40PM, Calcutta
Rakesh took no chance.
The last sentence, used by Vicky – ‘Read the story of Bishop’ – was actually a cue – a signal for him to be careful. They used it before in a situation of extreme danger. At the core of his heart he was an adventure lover although he held one senior most post in Calcutta police – a joint CP. He felt the excitement inside.
The message from Vicky was as meaningful as a death-sentence. It meant a lot – his phone was tapped, he was being watched for some time, he could be followed any time and finally his life was in danger. With that sentence Vicky had also sent a message to meet him at one particular spot that only Rakesh knew.
Rakesh came out from his room and took the elevator to go down to the second floor. He went to the toilet and changed to civil dress. He waited another fifteen minutes there. He knew the gravity of the situation.
He decided not to use his official car.
He climbed down the open air sweeping staircases meant for the toilet-cleaners. It was the back side of the office. At the back of the police head quarters there was a large space surrounded by a seven feet wall. Here, the police parked their cars; some riot vans were also there for emergency.
The staircase ended near that open- garage. He used the narrow lane at the back to come out from the office and called a hand-pulling-rickshaw. An old man moved at a jog trot and asked, “KAHA JAIGEGA SUB? (where would you like to go, sir?)”
“Take me to the Ezra Street.” He said to the rickshaw puller.
He looked behind. Nothing abnormal. As usual busy Calcutta. The lane was narrow and full of activities. Small shops were like small caves under the earth. Somehow one managed to sit inside it and sold his little products like cigarette, various kinds of betel-leaves, lime, and a quid of tobacco.
The rickshaw puller was an old man. It seemed he had been pulling rickshaw for fifty years. It might be more if not less.
Rakesh was thinking fast. Who could be the insider? Tapping his phone was not easy. Only people from the cyber cell had the access and the software. He didn’t like Ami. He was really irritating. But it couldn’t be the only cause that you suspected a man.
Rakesh again looked behind. He noticed no suspicious movement.
“BHAIA THORA RUKIEGA? (Brother, would you please stop the rickshaw?)”, Rakesh asked.
He wanted to stop for a moment and
watch. He got down and went inside a sweet-shop. He bought two cold drinks. He gave one to the rickshaw puller and sipped another. He looked around. This part of Calcutta was little different because of the Chinese people. Centuries back they had come here and started living, doing business. The houses were small and dingy with stained walls. The place reminded him of disturbed ants’ nest. Dirty Chinese babies played in the gutters. Chinese families squatted on the sidewalk outside their small stained shops.
They tanned the skins and hides openly. The workplace had a strange smell. It was good that the rain had stopped for some time or it would have been a disaster.
He started his journey again.
He took some turns and watched his back. No one was following him however he wanted to check it twice.
He got off and paid the old man well. The rickshaw puller didn’t expect that money so he was happy. He smiled happily and said, “AAPKA VALA HOGA BABU. (It’ll bring you more fortune)”
Rakesh returned back smiling, raising his hands as a good gesture and walked briskly along the Hyde lane. The atmosphere was different here. No more Chinese here. This lane was secluded with big houses and many of them were closed. He knocked one door. It opened up.
Vicky welcomed him. It was dimly lit. Rakesh entered and followed Vicky.
Vicky said turning back, “Take care.” It was risky because there was no handrail.
Rakesh smiled, “When I come here I always think this old wooden staircase will never be changed. It’s been here since the beginning, isn’t it?”
Vicky said, “That is true. It’ll stay here as long as it carries our weights.”
They entered a hall by a side door. The main door was closed. It looked like a large room of a manor or castle. The room was staffed with only books. Wall to wall shelf was overflowed. Although the room was old, it was very clean. A huge granite table stood on the centre of the room with few chairs around it. A gorgeous old chandelier was hanging overhead. Vicky turned it on. Light fell only on the table. The other parts of the room remained dark.
