THE SYNDICATE

 

THE SYNDICATE

 III

Langley, Washington DC

Inside the CIA headquarters, the air was chill and cold. Computers and hard drives beat and hummed in succession. Agents were busy doing their routine paperwork but not Carl, after the anonymous whistle blower who identified himself as the CandyMan revealed all the secrets of the so-called syndicate.

Carl was indeed petrified but he had to put on a show so that his fellow colleagues would not be suspicious. He did the usual tasks, web testing penetration, debugging data and his least favorite going through databases to ensure everything runned smoothly.

He put his encrypted USB drive into his laptop slowly and downloaded the secret data provided by the incognito hacker, a snippet of what it was to become. The CandyMan he had heard of him, a notorious hacker who taunted his victims by giving them web cookies as a form of phishing and stealing data.

Once the victim accepted the web cookies, he was then able to get the user’s IP address and backtrack the lines of code into their password repository that stored all their data. That was why he was called the CandyMan.

Carl had heard of this black hat hacker for quite sometime making waves in the media exposing government officials’ money laundering schemes, business of war: illegal sale of weapons by the United States to aid in wars in the Middle East and corruption. He was the kind of hacker to ask for ransomware back in the day all for a hefty price, a smalltown legend.

But now it seemed as if he went into radio silence only to resurface contacting Carl.

>> Let us meet at Romano’s coffee shop at 0000hrs

>>All will be revealed

He stared at the messages for what seemed like a good minute. The hacker ended the chat from reddit like pop up page and closed the cryptic browser. Carl was confused.

What possible information could the CandyMan have?

Was this all a ruse?

Why would he contact me?

His thoughts spinned in his head like a carousel and almost made him nauseous. He closed his laptop and removed his glasses instantly contemplating on whether his engagement would be an act of treason against the United States government. He loosened his shoulders and packed his belongings.

Moments later, he arrived at his apartment completely tired and languid. The subway ride was unnervingly annoying to him and was glad he was at his small minimalistic apartment. He took a hot shower as he got ready to meet the infamous hacker at the coffee shop.

The night was cold and chill, the trees shed their amber leaves as it was Autumn. The wind swept the leaves as they danced on the side walk. The full moon gleamed from a distance luminating his every step. He walked into the coffee shop and sat right at the corner, wearing a black hoodie and blue denim jeans.

He then got a text from an unknown number.

>> Will be there in the next fifteen minutes

Time passed and a short white middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap and a denim blue jacket appeared in front of him, his head hung low like a crane. Fearful to be watched.

“I picked this place as there were no surveillance cameras” said the Candyman who Carl later learnt that his name was Bill Wachowski. A Russian hacker who came into the United States when he was just five years old, he had an American accent and had a thick scent of vodka under his breathe.

Bill joined Carl at the booth, a waiter passed them by to get their orders. Carl ordered an espresso while Bill declined the offer.

“Did you receive the data?” asked Bill.

His eyes looked hollow and his skin filled with pallor, as if he had not slept for days. He rubbed them over and over again.

“Yes, I did” said Carl childly.

“I come from a group known as the Watchdogs an online hackerspace that aims at exposing the governments’ dirty laundry, corruption and illegal profits from war,” said Bill.

Silence crept in like a slithering snake.

“These few individuals in power are known as the syndicate. An evil organization that comprises of the elite and untouched running the world profiting from famine and war” he added.

“Why me?” asked Carl.

“Because you are closest to the birds’ nest and to kill the birds you would need to destroy its nest,” said Bill.

“I know what you do Carl, you are a computer analyst working for both the FBI and CIA with an extreme understanding of writing genius code, these skills are what the Watchdogs need and with your help we will exterminate all the syndicate has had to offer,” said Bill with a stern look on his face.

“I also know your past time activities as a vigilante hacker,” said Bill

Carl remained stiff by the revelation.

“So, the question is Carl. How deep do you want to go into the rabbit hole?” asked Bill

He then handed him a piece of paper with some QR code.

“Scan this and join us and with your help we will take back what is ours” he said banging the coffee table dramatically, the other customers twisting their necks to see what had caused the commotion.

With his final words he left unspoken without hesitation. Carl felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. The anonymous hacker sent a riveting chill down his spine.

What will he do?

Has his whole life been leading to this event?

Will he betray his country or save it from the deep claws of the syndicate?