"We are here, just to talk", said the mysterious guy, hoarsely, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, from the darkness beside Sujit. I vaguely remembered seeing him before somewhere.
"Coming back to the issue," said Sujit, who had taken the guy appearing out of nowhere, in his stride, as if stuff like this was routine, "You have to stop coming here Vishal. You are scaring her now." He said, sombrely turning towards me.
“Look Sujit,” I said, “It's none of your business, what I do or when I do or if I decide to come meet my girlfriend.”
“But she's not your girlfriend anymore", cut in Sujit,"You broke up with her. In fact aren't you engaged now?”
"Again, Mr. Know-It-All, and whatever your name is," I said pointing to the other guy whose face was still hidden half in darkness, "It's none of your business. It is between me and her, and you have to stop butting in like this all the time. Why can't you find someone else to stick to. You will never have her, you know", I spat out vengefully.
"She's my friend, a very good friend," said Sujit shaking from his toes to his glasses in righteous anger. God he made me sick sometimes. I don't know what Tanya saw in this pathetic excuse of a man. Maybe that's why she had sent her bodyguard to protect Sujit, for the other guy was still standing there silently not moving a muscle, a bit away from us as if disinterested in the whole situation.
"Why are you even calling her?", asked Sujit, "You are the one who broke her heart. Hell, you are the one who proposed to her with marriage. She even agreed to quit her job for your sake. And all you did was make her feel miserable and guilty. I saw the messages you sent. Don't you have a mother. Or a sister. How would you react if some guy sent your sister such messages."
I could feel the cold anger rising in me now.
"She showed other people my messages?", I asked coldly.
"That's the part you want to focus on." said Sujit exasperatedly. "No she didn't show them to other people. She showed them to me. You beat her and tortured her, just because she danced at the function at office. Yes I know about the beatings. Don't look so surprised. When she ran away from you, you followed her to a different city. When she complained to the police, you bribed them. Now she's finally stable away from you in a new job in a new place. She had believed that she had escaped you, now that you are engaged. And next thing I hear is you calling her and abusing her and threatening to kill her with acid. This stops today.", bellowed Sujit, his voice getting stronger and stronger as he recounted each hurt that I had caused to Tanya.
The little piece of shit never even saw it coming. I hit him with my right and down he went like the mongrel that he was. All my training seemed to have come back, those hours spent in the gym seemed to have paid off, as I followed through at lightning speed with my elbow and broke his jaw."That slut," I spat,"that fucking whore",I shouted viscerally, as I kicked him in the gut."You tell her that she's next. I am going to kill..ahhhh", but my voice choked and the words died as I felt an iron grip on my throat tugging me away as if I was a ragdoll. I felt my breath coming in wheezes as I struggled to get out of this vice like grip. How had I forgotten about the other guy. He must have gotten behind me. "There there..." said the guy soothingly," we are done now, just let it go...".
I continued struggling but I saw stars as I stopped breathing and the darkness enveloped me.
*
I opened my eyes to pitch black darkness with the night breeze blowing soothingly around my face, but then I staggered. Suddenly it was as if my head had been dipped in fire. I felt woozy and at the same time numb and had this splitting headache and that I was about to throw up any second. What had happened?
It took a minute ,as I struggled to my feet and stood there dazedly, for the memories to come flooding back and along with that came rage. Tomorrow I thought, wiping my muddy hands on my jeans, I am going to gather up the gang and find these fuckers out and kill them. I am going to make them pay. I am going to rape their mothers and sisters . I imagined their agony in my murderous rage. But first I needed to get back to my bed to rest and get rid of this hangover? Why did it feel like a hangover? What had that guy done to me?
I struggled back to my bike and rode all the way back home dazedly, punch drunk. All the street lights seemed to glow extra bright that night and my head hurt so much, I had to stop once to throw up. As I fell into my bed, I thought for the last time how I am going to make them pay. I thought about Tanya again, and how she had danced in front of all those men at her office. I knew all about sluts at her office smoking and just begging to be fucked. I still boiled up in murderous rage every time I thought of that. How dare she? I thought of her sweet little innocent face as I had raped her again and again that night trying to make her pay for her sins. About how she had cried. She deserved it. But did she? I could feel some tiny voice asking me from behind me. I turned around, but there was no one there. I rubbed my neck as I thought about what had happened some more. I was stinging all over. "That bitch", I said aloud as I felt overcome by sleep. I never knew it would be last coherent thing I would ever say.
*
"Poisoned", said the coroner, "which is actually surprising, and rare."
"The doctor at the hospital said that he died a very painful death.", mused Inspector Bandopadhyay or 'Bandhu' as he was called.
"Why is it rare?" asked Bandhu.
"Yes, I can imagine", said the good doctor ignoring Bandhu's question,"He must have been misdiagnosed, for Nicotine Poisoning is unheard of in these parts."
"Nicotine Poisoning..huh..Why do you say that?", quizzed Bandhu,"We are the largest smoking state in this country".
"Yes, but smoking doesn't cause Nicotine poisoning, there are laws to maintain nicotine levels in cigarettes. No no. This man was poisoned, as in 'Murdered'".
"Are you crazy doctor?", asked Bandhu even more puzzled than before,"Whosoever has heard of being poisoned with nicotine.Why didn't the doctors at the hospital see it instantly then?"
"Because he is a smoker. He smokes a lot. So when they found increased levels of nicotine in the blood or urine they must have assumed that this was caused due to excessive smoking. It is because he smoked, that he was alive for so long albeit in agonizing pain. The levels I am seeing here if a non-smoker was given this dose, he would die in more or less an hour", said Doctor Sarkar dramtically.He continued,"And whoever poisoned him must have had a rudimentary knowledge of chemistry. Its no easy task distilling Nicotine into a lethal dose. If proper precautions are not taken as I recall, many of them who try to prepare this poison end up dying."
"Ok.. Ok...", squeaked Bandhu still trying to get his head around this Murder theory. " Are you sure? I mean this seems to be such a long shot", said Bandhu shaking his head.
The doctor stayed silent and gave Bandhu an incredulous look.
"Ok..." said Bandhu again, grasping at straws trying find a flaw in the Doctor's theory."How was he poisoned", he asked finally his shoulders slumped.
"Come over here", the good doctor beckoned Bandhu."Here you see this small mark on his neck."
"I don't see anything", said Bandhu truthfully.
"Look closer. You see this small black puncture in the back near the brain stem. I mean its hidden in hair. You see this?", said the doctor, his gloved hands pointing with a pen at the victim's neck.
Bandhu bent over his paunch,craned his neck and squinted his eyes to see a small mark more like a freckle."This small mark?", questioned Bandhu, finally agreeing to the office gossip that poor old overworked 'Sarkar' had gone bonkers.
Nicotine Poisoning. Huh. why couldn't the doctor just give a diagnosis of food poisoning. I mean all the other doctors at the hospital had said that. The guy had nausea, and severe abdominal pain.
Such a pain in his ass, Sarkar was. But he would see what would come of it.
"Bandhu sir", said the hawaldar who had just opened the door to the examination room,"They found the girl".
*
"He was a scoundrel, I rue the day I ever met him", sobbed the girl.
"Calm down miss", said Bandhu soothingly, "Here have some water. Would you like some tea?".
And without waiting for her reply, he shouted,"Oye Gaitonde, Bring some tea...".
" And some biscuits...", he added as an afterthought.
Crying women always made him uncomfortable, especially if they were this beautiful.
So far this day was turning out to be quite miserable. First the call from the hospital where the incall had suspected foul activity in the strange death of Vishal Chowdhury. Now it turned out that he was none other than the son of MP Abir Chowdhury.
Just the mention of the word 'Murder' would be enough to turn this into a political nightmare. He couldn't even imagine the repercussions in his career. He would be transferred to some place remote no doubt. But then he thought he would be definitely given traffic duty for as long as he worked. He couldn't imagine anything worse.
He had to tread very carefully. For now he was keeping all his cards to himself. He had also made sure that Doctor Sarkar would not say anything to anybody.
The girl was still sobbing, he noticed.
"So tell me about your parents miss", he continued a bit strictly, as Gaitonde entered with tea and Parle-G.
"I told you already. I ran away from home when they wanted me to get married. I come from a traditional Muslim family", she said a bit strongly now, although her voice was still a bit hoarse from the crying.
"Continue", urged Bandhu.
"I came here and worked as a product advertiser in some high end bars in the city", she said.
"Product advertisers?",quizzed Bandhu,"what do you mean?", he urged further.
"A few liquor companies hire models to push their products in high end Bars", the girl continued.
"So you were like a bar girl", butted in Bandhu.
"Not exactly. The companies had promotional events whenever they launched a new brand of whiskey or vodka. Like if you buy this many pegs, you get to play a game and win prizes", continued the girl completely calm now, like explaining sums to a two year old,"The companies thought that the people would be receptive to this angle if they hired models for such events. We got paid pretty well actually",said the girl.
"How did you meet the victim, Vishal Chowdhury?", asked Bandhu, his detective brain whirring.
"It was at one such events, when I met... him. I am sorry I can't even say his name. That Rascal. I am pretty used to being hit on in Bars. All the models are. So obviously when he asked for my number that night in October, I rebuffed him. When he persisted, I threatened him with the bouncer but he just laughed.", said the girl in one breath. She paused and gulped down some water.
"After that night, it was like I would see him everywhere. In a harmless loafer sort of way. He would show up in front of my college and late night at bars. In spite of myself my affection grew for him. He called me one night and we stayed up talking. I was looking for something I guess.", said the girl sadly.
Bandhu was looking at her with skeptical eyes.
"He was good to me at first. Caring, charming and generous. It all went wrong when I completed my BA and got a job at the BPO", she continued.
"Suddenly he started having problems about everything. My English. My clothes. Whenever he would come to pick me at the office, he would look at all my friends with hatred and later call me a slut and a whore. It sort of escalated after that. He abused me and tortured me and then I had no option but to run... I mean he had powerful connections. So I came here...", she ended.
"And how do you know this Sujit Chatterjee?", asked Bandhu in a neutral voice.
"He is my childhood friend.", said the girl,"We were in the same school", she continued emotionally, "When I came here, we sort of kept in touch".
"And I can see a lot of calls from your number to Sujit's cellphone in the last week", said Bandhu suddenly , picking up a few sheets from the table and waving it in front of Tanya.
"Yes...", she paused,"I came away from the city to the outskirts to escape...that rascal. Sujit helped me find my own place. He even helped me find a new job and change my number. Suddenly a few weeks ago,I got a phone call from an unknown number... It was him, the bastard..", she said venomously,"..that he was engaged and that he wanted to meet me. I refused. I blocked his number countless times. I reported the matter to police. Nothing worked...He continued threatening me. He said he was going to throw acid on me, destroy my face.Nobody would ever want me again he said".
"I was really scared..",said the girl shivering,"I mean I just wanted it to end".
"And what happened last night?", asked Bandhu.
"Last night I got a call from him saying he was coming to meet me. I got scared and called Sujit. He and his friend Bunty went to meet him outside my apartment gate. That rascal bashed Sujit's face in", she said sadly.
"How do you know Bunty?" asked Bandhu, after a slight pause as the girl collected herself.
"He is Sujit's friend. I mean I have chatted with him a few times, but I have never met him", said the girl.
"Hold on", said Bandhu suddenly, straightening up in his chair so fast he scared the girl a little bit.
"We already have the statment from Sujit Chatterjee and he says that this Bunty, last name unknown, was your friend", said Bandhu suspiciously.
"What", said the girl surprised,"I have never even seen him".
"So how did you come to know about Bunty?", shouted Bandhu authoratively.
"I chatted with him a few times, he was Sujit's friend, thats why I even accepted his friend request. He sent me a message saying how Sujit had told him everything and how I needed help. He seemed genuine....",said the girl looking really puzzled.
Finally a lead, thought Bandhu.
*
Bandhu followed the lead with great fervor and so much nervous energy that he surprised even himself. He immediately sent a sketch artist to Sujit who was recuperating from his wounds. Then he went to meet Hamiz in cybercrime.
He knew he could depend on Hamiz for discretion but it turned out that even Hamiz and his team, who were somewhat of a legend, who could actually trace entire terrorist cells from just a cellphone or a message on a website, were helpless.
The site profile had been fake under the alias of 'Bunty Ahmed' and was being accessed according to the IP search, from Egypt. So unless the pharaohs flew down from Cairo to kill the spoiled son of a powerful politician, he was at a dead end. Bunty Ahmed had 148 friends on the site, most of them legit but many other fake ones so the entire search would take weeks if not months.
With every hour, the pressure mounted on him for results. He was having trouble sleeping, his wife tut tutting beside him at night as he fidgeted turning restlessly, going over the case again and again in his mind.
Even the sketch that Sujit's testimony had yielded, was worthless,as Sujit had met the guy only once, the night of the murder, in the dark.
'Bunty' the alias the killer went by seemed to have lanky hair, was apparently strong of build and that's were the description ended. Sujit had described him having a common sort of face, the one that you wouldn't look twice,and easily forget in a crowd and there were no other eye witnesses.
What had he gotten into?
And he still did not buy the Nicotine Poisoning theory.
But most baffling was the motive.
What motive did the killer have?
His gut told him that it had to do something with the girl, an old lover perhaps or a new friend. He would follow this thread too, however vague or long it seemed. It seemed his only and most promising hope, for no crime of passion is ever without motive.
It was the worst of cases to get involved in, but it was made even more worse because the victim was Abir Chowdhury's son.
And that's what made him nervous.
The day after he had interrogated the suspects, he had gone to meet the MP.
He had been escorted through that labyrinth of a old mansion to the third floor into a dark room that stank of smoke and dust.
Beside the window where the setting sun cast it's last rays stood the great Abir Chowdhury looking out.
"Sir, I am so sorry about the death of your son", started Bandhu but he was abruptly stopped as the MP raised his hand palm outward, the universal symbol that seemed to cut through all bull shit.
"He was my only son", spoke the MP in clipped, grave tones,"and I will move heaven over hell until justice has been served".
He looked around and turned towards the empty bed with the blankets thrown askew and a sole pillow upturned alone.
"That morning he was found on the floor, covered in his own vomit, groaning",he said heaving with emotion,"It was hours before anyone even heard him. And I was not even here...",he paused overcome with sadness and anger.
"So Inspector, tell me the cause. The hospital doctors seemed to think that it was Food Poisoning, but they seemed unsure. Tell me the truth now", spoke the MP, his legendary anger returning.
Bandhu gulped, his throat suddenly very dry, and said,"The coroner is still trying to find out the cause sir, but it seems very much like food poisoning", he said sincerely deciding to leave out Dr Sarkar's diagnosis,"but the test results still have to get back from the lab, and we will keep you informed sir", he ended buying time.
He had walked out of that house with his mind heavy with dark thoughts running around in his head, as dark as the clouds that had set in warning of a storm brewing in the distance. He didn't know how long he could keep all that he knew from the MP, and when that happened all hell would break loose.
*
The hacker went by many names on the dark net. On some domains CraftyLynx and on some Dextro and on some others HornyBigDick69.
You could more often than not tell a wannabe hacker by a name, or at least guess at their sex,ethnicity or their interests. Sometimes they were not so blatant, but every wannabe hacker wanted the world to know their name secretly, and so they tended to leave little clues behind every time they came on the chat. They talked for too long and tried too hard. The trick the hacker had learnt was to have as vague a name as possible.
The short play was to aim for glory, but the smarter play was to aim for anonymity.
The hacker had learnt long ago how 98% of the people accessed only 10% of the internet. This was the part that was visible, accessible teeming with web crawlers and bots of search engines trying to index every page and every phrase, the clearnet.
The rest was dark, hence Darknet. The bots were not welcome here. The sites had no names, only tor addresses that the hacker had learnt long ago to memorize.The Darknet was a natural haven for porn and crime syndicates the hacker had learnt.
The first rule of the Darknet, the hacker had painfully learnt was not to talk about the Darknet, when a vicious worm attack had completely demolished the hacker's OS. This had come after the hacker had bragged about some Darknet tor sites on a blog on clearnet. That had been the hacker's initiation. This was not a thing to be taken lightly and definitely not for the faint hearted. And it was definitely not easy but it came naturally to the hacker.
Also the hacker had found a wealth of untapped uncensored information starting from 'The Jihadist Cookbook' to 'How to Disarm a Nuclear Warhead'. You could buy drugs off the Darknet or Guns or hire someone to do your killing here. But also it was constantly shifting, ever changing to avoid detection by the FBI and other agencies.
Here in the 'Cult of the Genesis' domain, the hacker had crafted his reputation under the persona of 'Goatse!'.
'Goatse!' could be anybody and nobody, but for the regulars the Goatse! was a legend, to the point that now other users had taken up his username like a warcall naming themselves 'Goatse@', 'Goatse#','Goatse$' and so on.
But the hacker would forever remain the original 'Goatse!', somehow this persona felt more human than the hacker's own skin.
As he updated the other Goatse's about the latest exploits, the hacker's own mind went back to the kill. How easy it had been, and how powerful.
How empowering.
How simple and right and clinical to remove pain from this world, almost like removing the cancer cells from a dead limb. It was Goatse!'s message. Clinical and Merciless.
The Nicotine Poison recipe had been long since acquired since the hacker's initial wanderings in the Darknet in a curious file named 'The Mujahideen Poisons Handbook', and it was his favourite.
The recipes were given in photographic detail and the hacker had liked Nicotine the best, because it could be made from 3 cheap cigarettes, the cheaper the cigarette, the more the nicotine.
It also turned out that Nicotine was a great skin penetrating agent and easily disguised. The kill took precisely 11 hours as the hacker had known beforehand. The bastard had died an agonizing death.
But Goatse!'s plans were beyond one bastard's death. They were revolutionary.
As Goatse! urged others to follow his lead to break oppression and take out the garbage, the hacker's mind went back to his elder sister who had been kidnapped never to be seen again. The hacker's mother had died of heartbreak refusing to eat while the Hacker's father watched by helplessly.
The hacker had escaped eagerly into the Darknet, and out of the wilderness Goatse! had emerged.
The identification of the victims and working out the love angle to baffle the police were just details. They would never catch the Goatse! and the revolution would carry on so long as there was even a single Goatse.
As Goatse! posted his message to thousands, the hacker heard movement outside the door. He posted the note and put the laptop to sleep, and replaced it on the desk.
He continued to look listless, as was his norm, at the news on TV which was now showing how communal riots had broken out in the city, over the killing of the MP Abir Chowdhury's son by a Muslim, by the name of Bunty Ahmed. People were being advised to stay calm and inside their homes.
The door opened and Dr Sarkar walked into his home.
Dr Sarkar greeted his 23 year old autistic son with a troubled smile. His son continued to ignore him watching listlessly at the news.
Dr Sarkar shrugged and slumped off to his bedroom, knowing his son would recognize him only when he chose to.
The hacker made sure baba was out of sight, before he logged on to the bank account in Caymans where he verified the money had been received for killing the MP's son.
The hacker then put on his headphones and sat listening to Beethoven's Symphony No.5 as the city burned around him.
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