The Ghost in the System

Finding the architect of a system requires understanding how they think.

The Code Style

I had taken screenshots of the shadow server's interface, snippets of the scripts that ran its operations. Not enough to reconstruct the system, but enough to analyze the code.

Every programmer has style. The way they name variables, structure logic, handle errors—these are fingerprints as distinctive as handwriting.

The code I was looking at had characteristics:

• Efficient: no wasted operations, every function optimized
• Paranoid: multiple layers of verification, assumption that anyone could be an adversary
• Documented: surprisingly clean comments, as if the writer expected to maintain this for years
• Old patterns: some structures that were common in older programming courses but outdated now

This was not a student's work. The sophistication was professional level. But the old patterns suggested someone who had learned programming years ago, not recently.

Someone who had been at Somaiya for a long time.

The Access Question

Building this system required access that students do not have.

To install additional servers on the network, you need physical access to infrastructure rooms. To create network routes that bypass monitoring, you need access to routing configurations. To generate credentials that impersonate administrators, you need access to the identity management system.

This pointed to someone in IT. Or someone with deep connections to IT.

I started researching the college's IT department.

The History

Somaiya's IT department had changed significantly over the years.

The current team was relatively new—most had been hired in the last three years after a major modernization initiative. But the shadow server dated back four years.

I needed to find who had been in IT before the modernization. Who had been there during the network upgrade that seemed to coincide with the shadow server's installation.

The college website had archived staff pages. LinkedIn had profiles. Slowly, I built a picture of the old IT team.

One name kept appearing.

The Profile

His name was Vikram Shetty.

He had been Deputy Head of IT at Somaiya for eight years, until he left two years ago for a "private sector opportunity." During his tenure, he had overseen multiple infrastructure projects—including the network upgrade four years ago.

His LinkedIn showed him now working for a technology consulting firm. A firm that, I discovered with more research, had Somaiya as a client. They provided "ongoing technical support."

He had left the college but maintained access. Perfect position to operate a shadow system.

But this was circumstantial. I needed more.

The Social Engineering

I could not approach Vikram directly without revealing myself. But I could approach people who knew him.

I found current IT staff who had worked with him. I created pretexts—a project needing historical information, questions about legacy systems. I was careful, never mentioning the shadow server, just asking about old infrastructure.

What I learned:

• Vikram was brilliant but secretive
• He had built systems that others could not fully understand
• He had maintained control of certain infrastructure even after formal handovers
• He had "special relationships" with certain administrators

One current staff member, after a few friendly conversations, mentioned something interesting: Vikram still came to campus occasionally, to "check on systems."

The Surveillance

I started watching.

Not following—too risky. But monitoring. I watched the engineering building where the ghost terminal was located. I noted patterns in the server room access logs I could see from public terminals.

After two weeks, I saw him.

Vikram Shetty, walking through the engineering building late one evening, heading toward the basement. A bag over his shoulder. Moving with the confidence of someone who belonged.

He was still running the operation. From inside the campus.

The Confrontation

I did not plan to confront him directly. But he saw me.

I was watching from an alcove near the stairwell when he emerged from the basement. Our eyes met. He stopped.

"You're the one who has been asking questions," he said. Not threatening. Almost amused.

I had not expected this. Had not prepared for direct contact.

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

He smiled. "The server room access. The social engineering with my former colleagues. The correlation analysis on placement data. You've been busy."

He knew everything I had done.

The Offer

He did not threaten me. Instead, he made an offer.

"You're clearly talented," he said. "Smart enough to find the system, careful enough to not immediately report it. That takes judgment."

"I'm still deciding what to do," I said.

"Let me help you decide. This system helps people. Students who would otherwise fail, through no fault of their own. Good people who just need a little adjustment to their records to succeed. Is that really wrong?"

He framed it as a service. A correction for an unfair system. A way to help the deserving.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"Simple. Walk away. Forget what you've found. In return, I'll make sure you never have attendance or grade problems again. I'll make sure your placement goes smoothly. I'll take care of you, the way I take care of all my clients."

The Choice

I asked for time to think.

He gave me a week. "After that," he said, "I'll have to assume you've chosen differently. And I'll have to take precautions."

A threat, dressed in politeness.

I walked home that night knowing I had a decision to make. Accept his offer and become complicit. Reject it and become a target.

Or find a third option.

The ghost is always someone. Understanding who they are changes what you can do about them.

Next: Following the data—building the case that could expose everything.