Stories

The Contract

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The contract

Shashank Purandare

It was such a beautiful day. Not a single whiff of cloud in the azure sky. A gentle wind was blowing ruffling the green tops of the trees, spread across the endless terrain of green grass. Birds were flitting around singing their mystique songs. A single vulture could be spotted in the sky, scanning the ground endlessly, searching for its next prey.

John stabbed his victim precisely below the breast bone three times in quick succession with a four inch double edged serrated knife, with a skill honed in by years of experience as a contract killer. The victim fell to the ground painting the green of the grass with the dark crimson of the blood. John withdrew his knife and disappeared through the line of coconut trees.

The lone vulture circling in the sky spotted the kill from high above and dived in.

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“It is done.”
“Transferring remaining money. Check your mobile.”
“Got it.”

John pulled out the SIM card and crushed it. He then stepped on the burner phone, picked it up and threw it in the lake. It sunk without leaving a trace.

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As soon as John heard the key turn in the lock, got up from the chair, and quietly walked to the door. He was behind the door when the person entered the room. He put the wire around his neck and pulled it with the wooden handles attached to the wire. The person collapsed after a brief struggle. John made sure that he was dead before walking out, while ensuring that no one was observing his departure. As such, there was not a soul around at three in the morning. After a brief phone call, he was richer by another crore rupees.

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“There have been a spate of murders in the last six months or so, apparently unrelated to each other, all with different modus operandi. But I am becoming convinced that these are contract killings. Someone or the other stood to benefit by these killings. But there is not a shred of evidence to prove this. All the beneficiaries have solid alibis. We cannot find any phone messages. That means burner phones are used. We cannot seem to find any money transactions. This indicates usage of hawala transfers. There is a new hawala operator in town, since we have checked all the known hawala dealers. No one knows anything. I suspect that the initial contact is through the dark net. Since this is a new player, it is almost impossible to trace.” Inspector Sanjay Desai finished his report and paused.

“There have been at least six murders and we know nothing, absolutely nothing. This is not good.” Commissioner Joshi was clearly frustrated. “ Sanjay, I am giving you seventy two hours to come up with something, else the case gets transferred to CBI.”

“Sir, I have a plan-“
“Don’t tell me about your plans. Get me results. Dismissed.” Joshi said with a shake of a head.

Sanjay sat behind his desk and called Manasi, his cyber expert.

“Anything?” Sanjay asked as soon as Manasi walked in. Manasi was smart, good looking and efficient. But her hacking skill far outweighed all these other qualities.

“Maybe. I am trying crosslink the murder dates with some of the posts on the dark net. The data is huge. I have put five operators to check all the posts one week before and one week after the dates on which these murders took place. I have found five recurring handles. How this works is that the contract killer advertises on his handle and a potential customer responds. We have hacked the messages going to and fro. However, these are covert messages, meaning one needs to understand the hidden meaning behind those messages. It can be as simple as a 1947 vintage Bentley available for sale or some such thing. Someone responds and first contact is established. This is just a theory. We have found an ad for a flat for sale recurring every week. Now it is unlikely that a buyer was not found for six months. But the ad keeps repeating regularly. There are three other different recurring ads selling something else. But same ads are being repeated. It may be the same person running more than one ad.”

“Good job Manasi. But how can we be sure that this is being done through the dark net?”
“We can’t. But we need to try, sir.”
“I have been given a seventy two hour deadline.”
“Understood. Sir, one more thing. The payments could be made through cryptos also.”
“Manasi, get out!!! You are making me nervous.”

But Manasi was back within half an hour.
“Sir, I have an idea. It is dangerous. But it might just work.”
“I am all ears,” said Sanjay.

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It was one a.m. in the morning. It was a moonless night. Hundreds of thousands of stars were twinkling in the otherwise dark sky. A gentle breeze was blowing across. John, being very fit, had little difficulty climbing to the top of the small hillock. With his dark black attire, it was difficult to see him against the pitch dark hill. The hill overlooked the Mumbai Nashik highway, some two hundred meters away and about hundred meters below the hill top. There was a flat terrain at the top with a small hollow in the middle.

John removed his shoulder bag and put it on the ground. He still Had plenty of time. But he took out the parts of the rifle and methodically started assembling it. The IR telescopic vision went on top of the barrel. He mounted the tripod with rifle on top. He found a suitable place to put the rifle down. He then lied down in prone position, held the stock of the rifle against his shoulder and sighted down the telescopic vision. The road jumped into his vision, a bright green strip of tarmac. He moved the rifle till it aligned with the fork on the road. He let out a satisfied sigh and set the rifle down. He still had about 40 minutes of wait ahead of him.

He had received a message via dark net yesterday morning. As usual he sent two messages which reached the sender after bouncing around many servers around the globe. First was a code and second was the key to the code. It simply listed a burner phone number. John received a text message describing the job. What was unusual was that it was a rush job. It specified time, which was 2 a.m. and the location was where he was right now. Since it was a rush job, seventy five percent of the payment was made in advance via crypto currency.

At 2 a.m. a police jeep was going to come down from Nashik. John was told to shoot the person sitting on the jump seat. It was not a normal assignment, but John was okay with it since it paid well.

As a normal precaution, John destroyed the burner phone on which the message was received. He was supposed to text back on the same burner phone from which he had received the text, confirming the kill.

Time crept on agonizingly slowly. But John did not mind. He was used to waiting long hours. The wind continued its merry song and the stars continued to twinkle in the night. There was little traffic on the road below.

Soon it was ten minutes to two. John took his position and aligned his rifle just after the fork on the road where he expected the jeep to arrive. The illuminated dial on his watch crept past two a.m., then 2.05 and still no sign of jeep. John waited patiently, sweating a little under the arm pit. The jeep was late.

Then he saw the headlights followed by the jeep itself. John had a clear road of about hundred meters to take a shot. His rifle was already aligned. He could clearly see the silhouette of the man with police uniform through the IR telescopic vision. He carefully aligned the rifle, took a deep breath and gently squeezed the trigger. He could hear the glass break and the driver lost control of the vehicle. It landed in a ditch about fifty feet away, miraculously staying on its all four wheels.

John did not wait to see the result of his shot. He quickly disassembled his rifle, put all the parts in his backpack. He then picked up the spent cartridge of the bullet, obliterated all the telltale signs of his being there and started rapidly descending the hill.

But the moment he reached the ground, he received the biggest shock of his life. About ten policemen were waiting for him. Among them was the face of the inspector whom he was supposed to assassinate. That was the photo he had received along with the text. John realised that he had shot his dummy.

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Inspector Sanjay Desai and Manasi were sitting in commissioner Joshi’s cabin. Mr Joshi congratulated both of them.

“Sir, we sent messages to all the five suspected contacts through the dark net. We got one reply. That was enough. Since we only had setup the time and place, it was easy to catch the assassin. We simply used a 3D printer to recreate my face.” Sanjay said. “It was really Manasi’s idea though.”

“Yes, thank you and well done.”

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