“They’re not stealing data,” Rizalan said, his face pale under the fluorescent lights. “They’re erasing . Chain of custody. Warrant signatures. Judge’s seals. By sunrise, Cikgu’s conviction will legally evaporate. The SSO will show us as the ones who deleted it.”

A clatter echoed from the hallway. Then another.

“The system is dead now. But I memorized the analogue chain. The real warrants. The real signatures. You want Cikgu? You’ll need my brain… not the server.”

Rizalan typed furiously. The SSO logs showed the intruder wasn't looking at drug files or counter-terrorism. They were in the sub-system. The one containing sealed exhibits from Operation Merpati —a case that had put a certain shadowy fixer named “Cikgu” away for life, twenty years ago.

“It means someone has the master key,” Rizalan finished, his voice dry as old paper. “Not a stolen password. Not a cloned card. They have the sso.pdrm.gov.my authentication seed. They are us.”