Hello, Mr. Major General (1)

Chapter 119 - Failure Is Not An Option

Rohit smoothed his disheveled hair with his hands.

His eyes were glued to the thick red lines zigzagging wildly on Shehnaaz’s laptop.

“Can we really trust this thing?” He walked over, put his hand on the mouse, and opened up her source code to check it.

Rohit was outclassed by both Deepak and Shehnaaz when it came to computers, but that did not mean he was computer illiterate. He was just as educated in the subject as an individual with a master’s degree in computer science.

Rohit read the source code, line by line. He let out an impressed whistle. “I should have known better than to doubt you. How do you do it? You spent less than six months learning programming languages from Little Deepak, as I recall.”

Shehnaaz tilted her head. She clasped her hands behind her back, and winked at him. “The programming languages
are easy to pick up, actually. Once you know one, you know all of them—they have the same underlying structure and logic. And the languages are constantly evolving, so someone with a lot of experience may not actually be better at coding than a total newbie!”

“Yeah yeah, I’m an old fart, I get it.” Rohit pretended to glare at her; deep down, however, he could hardly contain his excitement. He had a feeling that Shehnaaz had unintentionally solved the problem that had been plaguing Sidharth and his men.

“What do you want me to do?” Rohit sat on the chair in front of Shehnaaz’s laptop.

Shehnaaz pointed at the screen and said, “Get in touch with Uncle Sid, but don’t use instant messaging—use the
local Wi-Fi to send an encrypted email instead. Tell them to cut themselves off from the GSAT-7 Global Satellite
Navigation System.”

Now that the GSAT-7 System had been breached, it would actually be safer to use the local network.

Shehnaaz had thought of a simple analogy for their situation: the GSAT-7 System was the “house” they had painstakingly built, and it had kept them safe. But now the roof was broken, riddled with holes, and rain was pouring in; under the circumstances, it was safer to take refuge in the neighbor’s house—the local network.

Rohit nodded. “I’ll send the email right away.”

He sent an email to Deepak then and there, with Shehnaaz’s laptop.It was seven in the morning in Vienna, Austria, when the email was delivered.

Sidharth and his men were already awake; they were accustomed to getting up early so that they could not sleep in even if they’d wanted to.

Deepak had gotten out of bed and was tinkering around the kitchen while making coffee. After that, he called
room service and ordered breakfast.

Sidharth stood before the window, smoking a cigarette.

Suddenly, a chime sounded from Deepak’s computer: an urgent email had arrived.

Sidharth flicked the ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. He walked over to Deepak’s computer,
his cigarette still in his hand, and glanced at the screen.

It was an email from Rohit. After a brief second’s deliberation, he opened the email and read it.

As soon as he saw what was written in the email, he discarded the cigarette in his hand and said, in a grave voice, “Little Deepak, are you still connected to the GSAT-7 System?”

Deepak poked his head out from the kitchen. “I’m still hooked up to it, but the connection isn’t open right now.”

In other words, the router was on, but the computer was off.