SILENT AS THE DEAD: A Deadly Cyber Chase Begins Read online

  Silent as the Dead

  SANJIB SINHA

  Author’s Note

  References to all facts about religious rituals, computer hacking, backdoor surveillance tools using routers and other INTERNET devices are true.

  For You

  I've used many hacking-related terms in this thriller. There are terms like 'IRC', 'Doxing' or 'Clone Spear Phishing' that you usually don't encounter in everyday life.

  If you feel curious and want to know more about the terms used in Hacking community please consult the Glossary at the end.

  Prologue

  The anonymous phone-call whispered death.

  A flicker of light from the wide touch screen of the smart phone passed across the dark room. She looked at the smart phone in horror. She had decided not to take any client-call.

  It was early in the morning her twin sister was brutally killed; since then she had been hiding in a secret place.

  In the morning she flew back hurriedly from Delhi after receiving a call from Peter; however, she didn’t know what to do. A terrible fear had her in its grasp. She was hell-scared.

  Peter couldn't finish the call. He only warned her not to go to the flat where her sister Rahi had been killed. The line got disconnected. After that she couldn’t get Peter any more. Did they kill him too? Who killed her sister? Why did they do so?

  She was trying to read the number in darkness while her heart pounded anxiously. The smart phone displayed no number. It had only displayed a word – “NOTHING” for a moment and then it disappeared. Suddenly a strange fear grasped her mind.

  She had never seen such thing on her mobile screen before. What was happening?

  She always had some special clients – people with high connections flaunting their social status. They didn’t want their names appear on a mobile screen of a call girl. They generally used few unique services where names and ID were withheld. The screen either displayed “PRIVATE” or “ID WITHHELD”. She had never received any call with a display – “NOTHING”.

  She was undressing in a dark corner of the room when her mobile vibrated and the light streamed on her tall hourglass body and took her by surprise. She hurriedly picked up the phone. Her bare right hand was trembling furiously.

  A soulless male voice – spat few quick words, “Listen carefully. Your life is in danger. You have to leave your place at once. They are on the way to kill you.”

  A brief stop; seconds counting; and the voice continued, “They killed your sister early in the morning. Now they come for you. Please discard the SIM first. They had already located you through your smart phone. Don’t waste time.

  Meet me at Hotel ‘Day-Night’. China Town. I see you at the check-in desk at sharp four in the afternoon.

  I can’t save you after that.”

  The line was disconnected leaving the girl on tenterhooks. She looked at her large-screen-smart-phone in disbelief and hesitated a little bit before she switched it off. She noticed her hands were shivering. She had no controls. She was about to ask the mystery-man – how did he come to know about her sister’s death? Why did he want to meet her? She couldn’t.

  One after another – the questions cluttered inside her confused mind.

  The voice reverberated inside her mind. Was it true? Or was it a trap?

  “Oh, God.” She breathed heavily while whispering alone in the dark. The first drop of tear kissed her cheeks. It was cold and melancholic like death – now rolling down rapidly; one after another and then countless. She somehow managed to control her emotions and stopped crying. She had no time to cry. She searched for her ATM cards frantically.

  She wanted to live. She didn’t want to end up like her twin sister.

  She stood up. A sneaking suspicion again crossed her mind disbanding her determination. If it were a trap; what she would do? For the first time she felt she was all alone. She had no friends. Countless men slept with her but now she could not remember a single face that’d help her. They seemed to her - “NOTHING” – like the call she had just received.

  She pulled a knife out of her bag. She always carried it. It was razor sharp; as cold as a corpse. She kept it watching for a second – then she drew it near her thin fair wrist, feeling the cold sharpness for a second.

  She did not want to be a part of the sex-video that brought on so much trouble. It killed her twin sister. It would kill her now. It was her twin sister, Rahi, who had wanted to make fast money and insisted her to take part.

  She tried her best to stop them but it didn’t work. She was forced to take part.

  1. Sunday, 5:42 AM, Calcutta

  A cat suddenly ran across the road and Peter had to pull up short.

  His old motorbike screeched to a stop. He cursed the cat first and as a precaution to ward off evil spirits he spat on the roadside. He made a cross in the air. He waited for a while for another car to come and cross the road. It’d prevent something unpleasant from harming.

  No car drove past. The road wore a deserted look - not a soul out there. The street lamps were only emitting melancholy. Peter decided to stop a while and make a call to Rahi. He searched for his mobile.

  He first slapped his all pockets to feel the hard mechanical presence. There was no mobile. Had he left it behind in hurry? He felt blank and suddenly remembered he had kept it inside his bag under the bundle of notes. He touched the money first. It was a good feeling after some time. Then he scooped the mobile up and dialled Rahi’s number.

  It was ringing. No answer.

  He had just got briefcase-full-of-money and was contented. Peter thought it’d be good to call Rahi to give the good news so he dialled her number again and it was ringing continuously.

  He left Grass’ place ten minutes ago; by the time he should reach the flat, the clouds would have gradually moved to cover the dark early morning sky of Calcutta. The forecast was – the rain would continue for two days. Last night Peter was busy in Hotel Tamarind and didn’t have time to watch the local TV news. Last night all he could remember – it was very hot and humid.

  The morning star Venus didn’t show up. Peter had no time to notice it. He was not in the mood to do some astronomical observations now. First the cat crossing the street, then the no-answer-mobile-ringing-ad-infinitum-affair – he had a sudden premonition. He didn’t like it. He had been trying to phone Rahi for past ten minutes.

  He got worried now.

  Peter was a strongly built man with plenty of muscle and beef around his broad shoulders. He had short temper. Looking after the business of the twin sisters, who were high society call girls, had been his main job for last ten-fifteen years. He had been proved invaluable to them. In sex trade two factors were really nerve-racking – police and local goons. Peter got a good connection in local police station. He knew every MAMA (police-uncle-they-call-lovingly) and gave them money regularly. Besides that every local thug knew him very well for his bad temper, murderous mood and huge punch. They avoided him.

  Two mobiles of Rahi were ringing simultaneously. They started ringing and then the auto switch disconnected the lines repeatedly.

  “BOHEN... (sister-fucker)”, he cursed the mobile.

  It had never happened before. Rahi always carried them and answered back without delay. Even when her customers were busy with her flesh or she was busy with their dangling-loose-staff or away to a trip or she was inside the toilet. She always responded. What happened to her now? Why she was not responding? Peter was worried and decided to reach her flat as soon as possible. He pushed the pedal and accelerated trying to go faster.

  An uncanny feeling had been stalking him since last night – the feeling
sulked. For the first time in his life he suddenly started panicking. May be it was the effect of money. He didn’t want to spoil this special moment. He wanted to share this special moment with Rahi.

  It was a well-crafted-plan. Rahi and Rahela – twin sisters – had met Jacky Sen – a big industrialist – last night. They had hidden cameras with them and recorded a part of the secret rendezvous. Rahela didn't stay there till end. She had to leave for Delhi in the middle. A minister’s son suddenly phoned her from Delhi. The spoilt brat was supposed to throw a grand party in the capital city today. He needed good looking girls like Rahela.

  Grass gave them fifty percent advance two days ago and half an hour ago he took the spy camera from Peter. He checked the content and gave the rest amount without any fuss making Peter really happy.

  It was almost dark when Peter started from Grass’ underworld den. It was near Sonagachi, one of the largest red light areas in Asia. Late night stars then twinkled over the sleepy city. There was no cloud. Peter was eager to reach Rahi’s flat with the money so he jumped on his motorbike and raced off down the empty road as fast as possible.

  He didn’t notice the strange look on Grass’ crude face.

  It was a maze of lanes and by-lanes with old dilapidated buildings standing pressingly. There had been huge crowd for the past few hours since evening – coming and going like waves; and girls were shouting, laughing and throwing flying kisses to the strangers. The sound and light pierced the night sky. Now everything fell silent at the end of the night.

  It was a strange time – between the end of a night and beginning of a day.

  Peter came out from Sonagachi to the main road and stopped for a moment. He felt excited. They had never earned so much money at one go before. He stopped his bike at the side of the road and took out his mobile and dialed her number. No response. That was the beginning of his worry.

  Peter finally reached the flat.

  On his way he tried to call Rahi again and they were all blank calls without any answer.

  The door was not locked from inside.

  Peter stopped for a moment. Should he call the security guard stooping in drowsiness outside the main gate? He decided not to.

  A car was honking impatiently on the street. It got probably stranded somehow. The restless sound was piercing the quiet air outside. He called her by name. No one responded.

  “Rahi…” Peter shouted above the noise of the car horn again. A strange sensation kept telling him – something had gone wrong. Something must have happened to her.

  No reply from inside.

  Peter pushed the door with care. He was not sure about his steps. His instincts started giving him red signals. He kept his hand on the revolver stuck on his back of the waist. He waited for some time and looked around. The lobby was empty and looked gloomy in the dim light.

  Something was wrong. It was a strange feeling that had been stalking him for past few hours. He called her again and didn’t get any reply. He gave a gentle push to the door.

  The door opened up slowly. Peter stopped again. Before entering he tried to adjust his eyes with the inside-darkness. He started counting …one, two, three…and at the same time he wanted to make one thing sure. Was there any sound? Inside? Outside?

  A pin drop silence. The car stopped honking.

  He blasted open the door and entered as quickly as possible. On the dining passage he found Rahi. She lay ominously still. It appeared Rahi had been lying dead for hours.

  It was a dark pool of blood surrounding her gently. And it was spreading slowly around her lifeless body and stopped near his foot-steps.

  2. Sunday, 6:09 AM, Calcutta

  For a moment Peter was speechless.

  He couldn’t believe his eyes – it should have been a bad dream and he hoped it’d be over in a moment. Rahi lay dead – a few feet away. Was it true? No, it should not be. They had planned to marry. They had planned together to leave this dark underworld and start afresh. And Peter planned to buy a small flat in suburb. They had sketched, quite elaborately, to start things in a different way – all together, anonymously. He remembered her long glossy brown hair with a reddish hint in her tresses. He remembered her sweet smile and soft caress. Peter simply loved her. And that girl lay before him – dead.

  It devastated his senseless mind. The rude reality had an unexpected impact over him. He had never expected this even in his bad dream.

  An animal instinct told him, he was no longer safe here. He made up his mind. He heaved his huge bulk from the floor and shut and locked the door first. He again looked at Rahi’s dead body and suddenly discovered a scribbling on the floor. Before death Rahi had tried to scribble something with her feeble finger in the pool of blood.

  He seated on his heels and took a closer look.

  Rahi wrote on the floor with blood: “g..r…a.. s…” but she couldn’t finish; the last word was not clear but it was enough for Peter’s blunted intelligence. She had definitely tried to write Grass’ name.

  Without touching the dead body Peter watched her silently. In his short life he had seen enough dead body but not a single one incited such hatred for a single man – Grass. Peter was convinced; it was handiwork of Grass’ men. Now it was clear why Grass had been trying to avoid him for last few days.

  The butcher didn't take a look at the animal he was going to kill.

  Grass gave him money and at the same time he ordered the killers to finish them.

  He grabbed his mobile and called Rahela first. Very briefly he told her what had happened. It was a difficult call so he cut it short.

  He was hearing her sobs from the other end when he quickly added - “Don’t come here. It’s risky now.” He stopped for a moment and foraged for words that could have given him more courage to face this odd situation now; and he finally said, “Don’t worry. I’ll teach him a lesson.”

  He had already thought what he’d do. He dialled Jacky Sen’s number and it was ringing. He saved Jacky's number last night. It was the most intelligent decision he had ever made in his life.

  In the third attempt Jacky was on the line.

  A sluggish and sleepy voice said, “Who is it?”

  “Sir, I’m Peter. We met last night in the Hotel Tamarind.”

  “Bullshit, why you’re calling this time?” Jacky boomed irritatingly.

  “Sir, it was recorded.”

  “What?”

  “The whole thing was recorded sir. Last night in hotel Tamarind…you met two girls and it was recorded. It was Grass, sir, believe me. He fitted spy camera and gave us money to blackmail you. I have just handed over the clippings to Grass; believe me sir.” His words staggered while he was trying to convince him.

  There was no more drowsiness in Jacky’s voice. He demanded sharply, “Are you joking at this odd hour?”

  Peter suddenly heard sound of footsteps and he saw a shadow outside in the lobby. He said frantically, “Sir, what I’m saying is true. One of the girls you met last night is dead now. I am calling you from the spot. They are here to ….”; he didn't have enough time to finish his words.

  Peter laid his mobile down on the floor beside the dead body of Rahi and for the first time he did a major mistake. He turned to the door with his revolver in his hand. He forgot about the backside. He should have checked the other rooms first.

  The shadow was no more outside the door. Now another shadow came from behind, from the other room – very fast; in a lightening speed; and struck him hard on his head.

  Peter fell like a stone.

  Another shadow appeared now with a sharp knife. They didn’t want to make sound.

  The first killer said, “Don’t touch the phone.”

  The second killer smiled, “The item is high-quality boss. It’ll fetch a good amount.”

  The first killer said, this time angrily; ... MARI TOR (fuck-you-from-behind). Look, someone is on the line. It’s live. You’ll be tracked.”

  They left the flat hurriedly after finishing the job
.

  3. Sunday, 6:25 AM, Calcutta

  Jacky Sen was a man of action.

  He looked like one of the Bengali aristocrats of colonial era. He was tall and lean with mass of dyed red hair, a straggly moustache and deep shrewd black eyes. He was famous in his circle because he didn’t hesitate to take drastic action – whatever it’d take.

  He often said – “Whatever it takes!”

  He acted quickly once he had got the call from Peter. It was his great sixth sense that had brought so many successes in his short career as an industrialist. Last night, it was his famous sixth sense that warned him: something was going wrong.

  Last night he had suspected something amiss. In such cases usually Grass called him up before sending any girl. He didn’t. Usually after three hours he would again give him a courtesy call asking if it had gone perfectly. Grass didn’t call for once. It fell short from the routine jobs and made Jacky suspicious.

  He looked at his watch – it was almost six thirty. Today was Sunday and he was supposed to go to the golf club early in the morning to relax and mix with other influential people. He was already late. He had to fix this problem first. He remembered the middleman he had seen last night – a big muscular man. What the man had just said over phone – if it were true it would be dangerous for his career. He was in the process of becoming the Member of Parliament. It’d jeopardize the whole process.

  He had to start with Grass first.

  He dialled a private number.

  A baritone voice replied, “Yes Sir.”

  Jacky asked in haste, “Mustafa, where are you?”

  The answer came, “I am in Calcutta sir, but tonight I’ll leave for Dubai.”

  Jacky sighed deeply and sat on a sofa, “I got a situation and I need your help.”

  “Tell me sir, how can I help you?”

  “I need to pick up an item immediately.”

  “Dead or alive?” The voice on the other end sounded indifferent.