SITA
I stared at the documents on my phone. I felt a pang of frustration at the thought of being outsmarted by such an armature group. The main frustration came from the fact that I had no idea where this undisclosed government facility was. I had spent the whole night researching it but there were so many that by the time I found the actual one, I could have become too old to move. I threw my phone on the bed in surrender and fell beside it.
"Maybe… maybe?" I said as an idea popped up in my mind. I picked up my phone and dialed a number. "Hello?"
"If it isn't my favorite person in the world." A male voice responded. "Should be worried that you called?"
"I don't think so. I need your help with something."
"Why am I not surprised? You haven't called in six months and instead of asking how I'm doing, you are putting me straight to work, that's means you know?"
"I'm sorry but I don't have the luxury for that but when I'm done, I'll treat you to lunch what do you say?"
"That sounds nice, so what do you want?"
"I want you to hack into the government networks."
"You do realize that's illegal right?"
"Since when did you start getting scared of the law?" the voice laughed.
"So, what exactly am I looking for?"
"An undisclosed facility. Probably a government project that has been abandoned and information on Kouadio."
"That's easy, though the problem is with the price."
"Isn't treating you for lunch enough?"
"Really? That isn't even enough to pay for my rent and settle my informants. Not to talk about subscribing for the internet."
"Fine, when am I expecting results?"
"As soon as you get here of course. You know I can't share such information with you on the phone."
"Have you changed your address?"
"Not yet though I'm still considering the thoughts of changing my environment."
"Okay, I'll be on my way." I immediately grabbed my coat and left. I boarded a taxi which took me to the Avenue Houphouet-Boigny. I stopped at the house number I had always visited each time I was in town. I climbed the steps to the last floor and knocked on the door. After a few knocks a voice sounded from inside and I began hearing locks open until the big iron door before me opened.
Ismaël's hideout was a fortress of anonymity, concealed behind an unassuming door in a dimly lit alleyway. The building's exterior was as beautiful as the restaurant which stood beneath it. The outside bore no hint of the digital sanctuary within.
I passed through the door. Ismaël peeped at the staircase to make sure no one was following me. We walked through the long corridor and paused at a door at the end of the corridor. Ismaël placed his hand on a concealed biometric scanner. The lock clicked open, revealing a darkened room illuminated only by the soft, pulsing glow of LED strips and the flicker of multiple monitors.
The main room was a symphony of technology. A large, L-shaped desk stretched along the far wall, crammed with high-end computer equipment. Ismaël's primary workspace was encircled by a semi-circle of monitors, each displaying a different facet of his current projects: lines of code, live network traffic, and encrypted communications.
"Hope you haven't missed this place so badly," Ismaël said as I smiled.
The ambient lights cast a bluish hue over the room, contrasting with the red and green indicator lights blinking from the rows of external hard drives and servers.
Cables snaked across the floor, linking various devices to get in a chaotic, yet meticulously organized manner. On the desk, next to his keyboard, lay an array of tools: USB drives, signal jammers, and decryption gadgets, each ready to be deployed at a moment's notice.
On the wall opposite his desk, was a canvas of intrigue, a large corkboard covered with maps, printouts, and photographs. Beneath the canvas where shelves brimmed with books and manuals, everything from dense coding guides to science fiction novels that provided a brief escape from his relentless pursuit of knowledge. Digital art and posters featuring iconic hacker symbols adorned the walls.
The windows were fortified with blackout curtains and reinforced frames, ensuring no prying eyes could peer inside. "I can see your place is always so jam-packed," I said as I took in my surrounding
"Do you expect me to part with my babies?"
"Don't try and put words into my mouth."
"How about we get to work?"
Ismaël sat back in his worn leather chair, eyes fixed on the array of monitors before him. The glow from the screens cast a blue hue across his face, illuminating his focused expression. Tonight was critical. He was diving deep into the heart of the government's secure network, something he hadn't done in years.
His fingers flew over the keyboard, each keystroke a calculated step into the labyrinth of digital security.
"Alright, let's do this," he muttered, slipping on his headphones to drown out the city sounds. The rhythm of his favorite hacking playlist pulsed in his ears, setting the pace for the night's operation. I took a seat nearby and watched him while he did his magic
Ismaël opened his custom software suite, a suite of powerful tools designed to crack even the most fortified firewalls. His first target was the government's central database. He initiated the penetration testing tool, watching as lines of code streamed down the screen, probing for vulnerabilities.
"Come on, show me where you're weak," he whispered, eyes narrowing as he scanned the results.