"She gave it to me as a shortcut for documentation. She had no idea I was going to use it for this."
Rajan nodded. He handed the phone back. "The account-level pattern," he said. "That tells us two things. One: whatever is placing these calls is doing it systematically, not opportunistically. There's a schedule. Two: it's using real accounts as cover — which means it has access to the client database. The customer records." He paused. "It knows who the real customers are. It knows their accounts. It's inserting itself into legitimate call patterns."
"That requires access to the system," Meera said.
"Yes."
"Which means someone with system access gave it that access."
"Or it took the access itself," Rajan said. "The company's servers are in this building. On floor nine. The technical operations floor." He looked at her. "What's directly above floor nine?"
"Floor ten," she said.
"Yes." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I've been in this building six years. I've never gone to floor ten. I've never pressed the button. I want you to understand that — I'm not a brave man. I'm a man who has been trying to understand this place from a safe distance for six years and has not succeeded." He opened his eyes. "But you have access to data I don't. And you notice things I don't notice. And I think—" He stopped himself.
"What?"
"I think whatever is on floor ten has noticed you noticing," he said. "The call on night six — 'how long have you been aware that we're listening' — that was targeted. That was to you specifically, not a random anomalous call. It knows you're investigating."
She sat with this for a moment. Outside the building, Bangalore was doing its three AM thing — the late-night trucks on the ring road, the construction that happened at night to avoid traffic, the city of twelve million never quite all asleep.
"What do they want?" she said. "The calls. The questions about the floor layout, the number of people, which floor I've been to. What are they building toward?"
Rajan looked at the ceiling. Then at the floor. Then at her. "I think they're mapping us," he said. "The building, the people in it, the routines. The way you would map a territory before you did something in it." He paused. "What that something is — I don't know. I've been trying to find out for six years and I don't know."
He stood up. His shift was over — he packed up with the same methodical routine as every night.
"Rajan," she said. "Why are you still here? Six years. If you know all this — why are you still here?"
