18
The mobile phone rang, and Anthony stared at the little screen that said: ‘Tom calling’. Was he calling from prison, and knew he had told the police of his excursion in to Ryvak? He knew he had to answer it, had to face up to him at some time. Why not get it over with now?
“Hi, Tom”, he said, sombrely.
“Ant, I did it, I got the address, and I hacked in. It’s fine now, I’ve just got to wait. The place’ll probably never open. Anyway, I’ll tell you about it later. You’re in this avvy, right?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll see you then”. He ended the call, and stood still on the pavement for a few moments. Shoppers passed by him without giving him a glance. He had decided to browse around the shops for a while before heading into university. He crossed to a low wall, near a bus-stop and sat down. It didn’t work, then, he thought, his call. It was rather scant and brief.
He had called ‘Crimespy’ and simply said: ‘There’s going to be a break-in at Ryvak tonight’, and put the receiver down. He was paranoid about his call being traced, and if it was, then others may find out and he would then be labelled a ‘grass’. He had thought afterwards, that should Tom have been caught, and given a caution, he would then maybe hack into the police records and find out where the call was made and at what time, maybe even hear a recording of the call. There would be no denying it then. No excuses.
Having not specified where the break-in would be, he wondered if he should have dared to mention more detail about who was breaking in, and at what location. He wished he had, but fear had made him rush the sentence and slam down the receiver. For all he knew, Ryvak might have hundreds of buildings across the country, or even world-wide. He hoped they assumed it was the new place, but nothing had seemed to come from it, so his information was obviously too scant for Tom to have been greeted by the police already there. He wondered if he should give Ryvak a call: ‘I know who broke in the other night, and I know that he’s hacked into your database. I know what he’s doing, why you think you’re losing money’. Then he thought that perhaps a letter would be easier.
No calls, no e-mails, no way of being traced. All he had to do was write it down. His mother had an old typewriter collecting dust in the shed. If he could produce a letter on that, then travel to a different postal district, post it to the police, then that would be less traceable, certainly by Tom. He decided there and then that he was going to do it. Yet, he still didn’t want to lose Tom as a friend. If they find out he’s hacked into that company, then they may find out about his bank siphoning, which may then in turn, link to him. Was it worth taking the risk? he wondered.
If he could keep Tom as a friend, then he would be unlikely to turn him in. It shouldn’t be a case of: ‘If I’m going down, you’re coming with me’. Or maybe he should just forget the whole thing. What’s done is now done. If Ryvak loses business then so what! it doesn’t affect me. I’m not going to notice anything different. The world isn’t going to stop spinning. Why should I care?
Yet, he did care, because it was a research company. Maybe they will come up with all sorts of wonderful cures and remedies. They were only there for the benefit of humans, for the progress and advancement of medicine, medicine which may well have taken a path via a few rats, rabbits and monkeys, but ended up on the chemist’s shelf, selling by the bucket load because it was a new wonder cure for any aches and pains and symptoms that would persist without the sacrifice of a few animals. Who cared about a few rats? The monkeys had no emotional attachment to any humans, and besides, it was all behind the scenes. Out of sight, out of mind.
It was the same with burgers at fast-food outlets. The cow wasn’t killed there and then. There was no choice. ‘Choose your cow sir,’ was not something ever said. They were killed behind closed doors, and then presented as ‘nice’ as possible in the packages and on the plate. So Anthony could not feel any regard or attachment to the animals. If they had to die to further human progress, then so be it. Ryvak could not close. The workers could not lose their jobs.
What if one rat had to die to further medical research? Who’s going to shed a tear? Not me, thought Anthony. What if Tom’s meddling cost people the chance of a cure for their ailments? Innocent people whose pain may persist because of his concerns over animal cruelty. One man’s meddling, who cannot see past the animal’s suffering for the cause of medicine, could simply cost lives, lives that I may be able to save if I stop Tom.
It basically came down to two types of pain. Either the animals suffered for the human cause, or people continued to suffer because Ryvak could no longer continue. There was no choice. It’s my moral duty, he thought. How can I do nothing? How can I have the knowledge of who is causing them ruin and not do anything about it? Yes, I have an obligation to medicinal advancement.
I’ve got to stop Tom in his blind crusade against them. He wondered if he could use his hacking skills to somehow prevent him, but then decided against it. Tom may somehow find out. Even an e-mail to Ryvak would be out of the question. Tom would easily find out who sent it, and from what computer. There was only one way he could see that he could do it without being traced, and with Tom remaining a friend of his, none the wiser. He would write the letter and hope that the police would act upon it to stop Tom’s interference.
He stood up and walked past a telephone box, glancing at a leaflet attached to one of the windows: ‘MISSING. Have you seen Jake Ingram? Please call this number or the police’. There was a picture of him looking stern. It was probably his passport or bus pass photograph. There was a number to ring, but Anthony paid it no attention, lost in his own thoughts, in his world of concern and fear.