Conspiracy At The Ashram: Reema Ray Book 3 (Reema Ray Mysteries) by Madhumita Bhattacharyya

Author:Madhumita Bhattacharyya [Bhattacharyya, Madhumita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2021-10-05T23:00:00+00:00

Trust Shayak to go old-school. For people like us, this might actually count as foreplay.

In our Goa office, also Shayak’s home, there was a hidden compartment in the cupboard, behind which was, of all things, a radio. And not just any radio: a short-wave radio. A big, black box, with an astonishing number of dials and switches, that looked like something one of my parents’ collector friends would guard with his life.

I had never operated a short-wave radio before, so Archana was at hand with very detailed instructions about how to tune in. She had, I presumed from her flat, precise tone, a list of steps which she was merely relaying without judgement, as was her fashion. She gave me plenty of time to figure it out – the real business of the evening would not commence till about 6 pm.

And what was that business, precisely? I wasn’t altogether sure. So I did as I was told, fiddling with dials, hearing several obscure channels in foreign tongues pass by till I landed upon the frequency in question.

‘This is a test, 1, 2, 3. This is a test, 1, 2, 3. This is a test, 1, 2, 3.’ After about five minutes of listening to a strange voice intoning these words over and over again, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I had my appointed time, and till then, I turned the volume down so it was only a murmur in the background, and set the alarm on my phone for five minutes to six. And then I waited.

The alarm went off, and I turned up the volume. At exactly 6 pm, there was a slight pause. My ears perked with anticipation.

‘Hello?’ It was Shayak’s voice.

‘Hello?’ I responded, and then immediately felt foolish. He couldn’t hear me.

‘Sorry for the excess of melodrama. But there was no other way. The following is the information you sought.’

I was ready with a pen and paper, as well as an audio recorder, as per Archana’s instructions.

It was code, and it was quick. My hand flew across the page for a good ten minutes. I was grateful for the recording, as I couldn’t be sure of my accuracy. Then another pause.

‘And that’s it. Goodnight.’

It was as abrupt as that.

My phone rang almost instantly.

‘You got it all?’ asked Archana.

‘I think so.’

‘I am mailing you the decryption data,’ she said.

‘Shayak is safe?’ I asked.

‘Yes, he is out of email range. And phone for information this sensitive is always out of the question for him.’

In my spy craft fixation, I had heard about number stations: mysterious short-wave radio frequencies on which they broadcast random numbers. The most reasonable conspiracy theorists believed it was the method used by intelligence agencies to communicate safely with agents in the field. Several had even admitted to it.

It was likely that Shayak had just made use of a numbers station.

Opening my mail, I saw Archana’s message. ‘The name of your agency.’

Steele Securities? I could only assume this was a keyword, and since we had spent so much time on Daanish’s diary, it would make sense to stick to the Vigenère cipher.

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