Hastum
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20. Information extraction
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 22:01:50 +0000 UTCI looked around the bar. Eight bodies lay there in different states of dismemberment.
The fight hadn’t been much. Since they were sure of their victory, they let me prepare, overcharge, and fire off the first spell that took out the guys with the guns. The rest was just formality.
But not all went according to plan.
I looked at the body of Sarah, now with a few extra openings in the chest area.
I wanted to get some info from her once it was done, but things did not go that well. I took out the gunmen, leaving the old man behind the bar for last. In the time I knocked out Sarah and dealt with the other guys, the dude pulled out a shotgun from under the bar and started blasting.
Sadly, it turns out that witnessing someone use magic to burn a hole through your buddy's face might make you lose some nerve, so before I could get him, he killed Sarah and one other dude by panic shooting everywhere.
I considered using necromancy for a second, but I did not have the time for a ritual strong enough for her to retain some memories after resurrection.
This complicated things. Not only did it make it tougher to get the info, but I also indirectly killed the face of fighting against human trafficking in the country, more of a mask than a face, but still, I was the only one privy to that info. That was not part of the plan. It just moved my timeline by a couple of days. I needed to get the girl as soon as possible before they tightened the security.
I looked at the carnage. I would have to hide the bodies to get a couple of hours as they looked for her before declaring her missing or dead.
After a bit of searching, I found a storage room and cast a spell to slow down the decomposition, although it wasn’t an actual spell, more a practical use of knowledge of spellcasting and death magic.
I then used an illusion to make it seem like the corner where the bodies lay was empty. It was a simple trick, similar to the way mortal magicians make the rabbit disappear from the box with mirrors. If someone stepped into the corner, they would find a pile of bodies, but hopefully, seeing an empty corner, they wouldn't do anything like that.
The last was the policewoman. I took out her phone and unlocked it using her finger. Then, making sure that it worked, I did the same to her body, taking the finger with me.
After hastily covering the remains of the fight and making sure there was no surveillance, I made my way onto the streets. To my surprise, there wasn't a crowd wondering what had happened. The street was emptier than before, but no police sirens or mafia goons were in sight. Apparently, in this part of the city, gunshots weren't as much of a surprise as I assumed they would be for normal people here.
I got out of there and started looking for someplace to start working on the phone. Hopefully, it would contain some information.
After a bit of meandering through the streets, in case I had a tail, which was unlikely, but still better to be cautious, I found a small, empty side street and sat down on a small wall.
I needed to extract information, and who better to call than an info specialist?
I dialed Q’Shar, and after a couple of beeps, someone picked up.
“Is this the cat shelter?” The phone clicked.
I redialed the number. And waiting a few more seconds than the last time, someone picked it up again. “Is this the asshole?”
“Speaking,” I answered without missing a beat. “I need help with getting some info from a phone.”
“We are not that good with technology. I can try finding a hacker on recommendation, but that will take time.”
“I need it quick, and getting into the phone is not a problem, but I doubt they keep trafficking schedules in files with corresponding names.” I scrolled through the phone, but nothing caught my attention. “I need you to guide me a bit. So imagine I’m a criminal.”
“Done,” came an instant response.
“Very funny. Now, imagine I have a good contact in law enforcement, and I need to communicate with them without much attention, how would I do that?”
“You sure it’s a real deal and not some fake? It's not easy to get into a phone without the know-how, so if you got in, this might be a trap,” warned my broker.
But I reassured him. “It’s not, I have the owner's severed finger.”
“Of course you do, what was I expecting, subtlety?” I heard a tired sigh. “Ok, the deal with info is as follows, at least for us in the business. If you are hiding something in an obvious way, you go all in. It's like putting a massive lock on the doors. Everyone interested will figure out that something valuable is behind them. So, if you want anything kept secret, you either put it in something that is obvious but is sure to hold up to any attempts at getting in, or, if you can't get the first option, you hide it in plain sight, making it seem uninteresting. If what you have is a regular phone without encryption or self-cleaning algorithms, then I would assume they will hide contacts in plain sight. Some normal conversations using code would be my guess. That's how I would do it.”
“Right, I think I have an idea of how to find that, thanks.”
“Sure, get me the info as soon as possible. I already have the contract for the CEO prepared. All we need is leverage.”
“Should have it soon,” I said, then hung up.
After some time scrolling through her apps and messages, I got a lead. It's not like they just discussed with her where to keep the people, nor was there a convenient shipping plan in a big folder on the home screen, but I got some intel.
I found Sarah’s contact with the organization, or at least that was my guess, as they spoke in code, just as the cat suggested.
The conversation discussed shops. At first glance, it looked like two friends were talking about shopping trips and things they ordered. But there was a pattern. I checked the date I went to her office, and sure enough.
‘I have a new friend interested in some Brazilian fashion, but I don't think he has any fashion sense.’
Next, I checked the date the CEO's daughter would have arrived in Brazil. She received a message discussing new necklaces in their favorite shop. The other person suggested being on the lookout for people interested in it so they could go shopping together.
From what I gathered from the rest of the messages, there were five brothels catering to special clients, referred to as clothing, jewelry, accessory, underwear shops, and the local market. The number was consistent with the different places repeating on the client list I received from the policewoman before she received additional breathing holes from her coworker.
So the girl was in the one they referred to as a jewelry shop, the most exclusive one, if I had to guess. Now, I needed to figure out which one the “jewelry shop” was. On one hand, I had a list of clients and the addresses where they were usually seen, and on the other, I had messages with brothels and clients discussed in code.
I had to cross-reference them somehow. But how? I stared at the phone as if the answer would just appear on the screen.
Wait, I had an idea.
I didn't follow politics, so if I recognized a name looking at the client list, it must be someone well-known. I then reviewed the data, searching for someone who was popular or well-known enough for their travels to be reported in the news and to afford a high-class establishment.
And after a bit of googling names from the list, I found it. ‘Congress member Anthony Relet flies to Brazil to negotiate preservation policies of the Amazon forest’ article from the 12th of May.
I looked through the messages and found a conversation from May.
‘I have a friend from the USA coming this week. Where do you think I should take him?’
‘Take him to the jewelry shop. Maybe he will buy you something.’
The rest of the messages did not match the code to make it look like a natural conversation. But that was all I needed. He was a client of the “jewelry shop”, and according to the data, he was seen at a particular establishment near the port. I had the address.
I began planning the entire operation in my head as the phone suddenly vibrated.
‘How is our friend doing?’
The same “friend” texted her. It looked like they hadn't checked the bar yet. Maybe I could get some more info. I needed the photo for negotiations with the CEO, and I could postpone their alarm for some time. All I needed was for them not to move the girl until midnight.
I started typing.
‘Honestly, not so good, you know how those Americans are, really stubborn, it's starting to get on my nerves. But he is interested in the new necklaces that recently came to the jewelry shop. He wants to know if it's the one he wanted but couldn’t get in the USA.’
I hovered my finger over the send button. If I did not hit the code right, they would be alarmed. I’m not that good with words, but I think I got the hang of their pattern from all the messages I read through.
Screw it, all or nothing. I hit send and waited with bated breath. After a while, I got a reply.
‘Assure him it's the one’
Should I lay it on thick? She did request photos of the “product” before, so that would not be that out of the norm. I should be fine as long as I use the code correctly. If this doesn’t work out, I will have to break into the “jewelry shop” anyway, just more quickly.
‘He would like a fresh photo to check for himself. If you are in the area, could you snap one for me? I think once he gets the photo, he will calm down a bit. He's a stubborn sort, I'm afraid.’
I waited with bated breath. I was hoping that, as someone pretty high in the organization, she would not be questioned, but I did not know how high the guy I was talking with was or how well he knew her.
‘Ok, sent you the picture. He better come around tho’
‘Sure, we should meet tomorrow and go shopping together.’
I wrote back with a smile. Afterwards, I got a photo of a necklace. God, they maintain appearances. Couldn’t they just send me the tied-up girl? I assume that I got the actual photo through some other means. But how?
I checked for a new email or a new message on any communicator, but there was nothing.
Should I call my broker again?
But then I had an epiphany and checked for shared storage, a drive, or something like that in the apps. Sure enough, there was a new file in some lesser-known drive application. After easily passing the biometrics check, I clicked it immediately, and a zip file downloaded.
Great.
Password protected.
Not great.
Why can’t they give me a break? Couldn’t they use some HumanTraffickerMessenger app with biometrics everywhere?
Should I try to guess the password? But would they risk one password leaking, risking that much evidence? For now, they were quite cautious, and keyloggers were a thing. I returned to the message app and looked through the conversation again, searching for inspiration or maybe some code that would suggest the password.
Finally, I found another picture request from the past. Hmm, why the picture, though? They could have used another code for when they need a photo, but here, the request was obvious.
I drummed my fingers on the table, almost forgetting to hide the severed finger I used for biometrics as someone passed by me.
I looked closely at the picture, looking for something. I knew there were ways to extract information from image files, but I was not a hacker or technology specialist, nor was the previous owner. It should have been relatively easy.
Then I noticed something on both pictures. The price tag was visible on both of them, and the price, in both cases, had six digits. I looked for some other photos, and the same thing, six digits, even things that should cost more, had a sale tag, and the price was brought down to six digits.
I opened the drive app and punched in the PIN.
The photo opened.
Finally.
The photo showed the girl in relatively good shape, in what looked like a cell. There was a thick concrete wall behind her, so it was probably a basement. I could see a part of another cell and someone's shoulder in it. Ok, I got what I wanted.
‘He will come, no problem. Will finish up here and see you tomorrow.’
With the photo in hand, I contacted my broker with the good news. All that was left now was getting to the girl.
After a few seconds, the furball picked up the phone. “I have a photo of the girl. Handle the negotiations. I will need around four hours to prepare. I will go at night. Get the deal for me before then if you can.”
“Consider it done.”
I heard the phone click on the other side.
Now I needed to prepare. With only what I could sneak past airport security, I wasn’t exactly armed to the teeth. I could ignore a couple of guns, but now I would waltz into a protected area with probably more than a few guns.
I went to my hotel and started rechecking the gear. It was around 8 pm. I would move at midnight.
I wonder how my favorite cat is doing.
** A mansion near New York. **
A man was lying in a massive bed, his wife next to him, shifting restlessly, struggling in some dream.
“No, come back,” she whispered in her sleep, turning from one side to the other.
He hesitated to wake her up. It had taken her a long time to get some sleep, and he didn't want to ruin it even if she was having a nightmare. He also both wanted and dreaded sleep, but it didn't come. Taking a deep breath, he slowly got out of the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping woman.
Making his way down the grand staircase, he looked towards the end of the corridor, stopping for a second, hoping the doors, decorated with a ‘no adults allowed’ sign, would open. And he would see a smiling face. But they didn’t. They stayed cruelly silent.
Finally, he arrived in the big kitchen. It had a marble kitchen table, gas and electric stoves, and a separate pantry—any cook's dream.
He heard it while making his way for the water bottle, as he froze with his outstretched hand.
A sound that would make him cry tears of happiness if it came from the room at the end of the corridor now made his blood run cold as it came from the pantry, a creaking sound of the doors opening.
“Who are you? Came to finish the job?” He asked, trying to sound calm, but his shaking hand betrayed him.
“No, mister Mark. The opposite. In fact, I came to get a job,” Came a weird, growly voice from the pantry.
“You won’t be able to escape the mansion, not with the security everywhere, and if I make even one scream, you are dead.” The man swallowed loudly.
“So is your daughter.” Came a response.
“Don’t use threats you can’t deliver on. I know you want me to sell the technology, and you need me and my daughter alive and well, if you want any chance at the negotiations.”
“You misunderstood me. If you scream, we will not save her,” the voice said something the CEO did not expect.
The man froze with his mouth open, ready to shout for help.
“You see, I represent someone," continued the voice. “Someone who wants something from you. And is willing to go to great lengths to get it. Even save your daughter and make powerful enemies.” The voice paused, letting the man think it through. “On the counter, you will find a printed photo of your daughter. The photo is new and one you have not seen yet. Please check it.”
The man approached the file with shaking hands, forgetting about the owner of the voice for a second. A choking sound could be heard as he held back his tears.
It was his daughter. She looked scared and pale, but alive.
“We know her exact location and are prepared to make the extraction if you sign a contract.”
“Just a contract?” He asked, surprised.
“Just a stamp of your blood and a signature is all we need. And your word that you will hold up your side of the agreement. Think about the blood as a cultural thing for us.”
The man looked even more confused.
“Well, you don't seem like the ungrateful type, and it doesn’t take much brains to figure out if we can get your daughter from Doeing, we can get her from you as well. It's no use making strong enemies whose identity you don't know, Mr Mark. And the thing we ask of you is nothing special. Just a bit of land.”
He nodded. “Continue.”
“Next to the photo, you can see the documents describing the property we want to purchase from you. A subsidiary of yours owns it currently.”
“There is a project ongoing there. This will cost us millions to break it and other millions in land costs,” murmured the man, his businessman demeanor coming back for a second.
“Is that worth your daughter?”
“Absolutely. I will sign your contract. You give me my daughter, and the land will be yours as soon as legally possible.” He said, placing down the photo.
“Please make the preparations as soon as you can so you can hold your part of the deal. We will observe you and see if you are making the right moves.”
A bit of hope made its way into his gaze. “Then I hope you deliver.”
“Then our business is done here. It was a pleasure,” purred the voice.
“Do you need me to get you out by the security?”
“Oh no, I will go the same way I came here.”
“Meaning?” Now curious about the apparent breach in security, Mark asked. But the voice in the pantry just chuckled.
The figure in the shadows chuckled. ”Unseen.”
The morning wasn't exactly pleasant.
“Sir, are you sure you weren't dreaming?” Asked a large man in a suit.
“Yes, he was there," Mark said, pointing at a pantry. The two men in suits looked at each other and then at the pantry again. It was used as storage, and right now, you couldn’t fit anyone in there, barely a child.
“Sir, you are tired. Please try getting some rest. The police and investigators are working as hard as they can. I’m sure they will come back with a lead any time soon.”
The older man looked helplessly at the pantry again. If not for the photo, he would have thought last night was a dream. Should he tell them? But then again, the mysterious organization mentioned by the voice came to mind. Well, maybe, just maybe, they would follow through.
Better than the idiots working now, at least, if they can get into his house and leave unnoticed.
“Ok. I think I will try to get some rest. Could you please leave now?” He said and went to his room.
After closing the doors, he took out a phone and dialed his right-hand woman. “Miss Clair. I have some land that I would like to sell. I will soon send you the details. I know it's not the best, and we will lose an investment, but this is non-negotiable and final. The land is to be prepared for private acquisition. It is your priority.”
“Understood, sir,” The woman just said, and he hung up.
She would do it quickly and without further questions. That's why she got the job after all. He sighed. Now, everything was in the hands of the people behind the voice in the darkness.
A slim hope was hope after all, he thought.
Unaware of the massacre that took place in Rio that night.
