Silence stretched until Suchitra spoke from the window, her voice calm but firm. "We can't ignore this. Whoever it is, they know about Kairav, about SynerTech. That's not random. At the very least, it tells us someone is watching us."
"Or playing us," Mansi muttered. She tugged her braid tighter, agitation sharp in her movements. "Come on. Proof doesn't just land in your lap. It's either a trap, or worse, someone inside SynerTech feeding false leads to waste our time."
Sumit leaned against the table, arms crossed. "Even if it is fake, the fact they know our number means we're compromised. That's already a problem."
Anchal considered them all. For a moment, she said nothing, just traced a line along the burner's edge with her finger. "Trace it," she said at last.
Pawan shook his head. "Already tried. It bounces off multiple towers. Whoever sent this knows what they're doing."
"Exactly my point," Mansi cut in. "Too clean. Too professional. We don't walk into this blind."
"But we can't just ignore it," Suchitra pressed, stepping closer to the table. "If there's even a chance they have proof, real proof, we can't afford to let it slip. You've all seen how careful SynerTech is. Shell companies, off-the-books payments, political cover. We're scraping bits from the surface while someone claims they're holding the whole truth."
The room simmered with tension. Pawan finally said, quieter, "Then maybe we test them. A reply. See if they bite."
Anchal studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "What would you say?"
Pawan typed carefully, the keys loud in the silence. If you have proof, show it.
They waited. Minutes dragged. Then the phone buzzed. Everyone leaned closer as the new message appeared:
Come alone. Tomorrow. 9 p.m. Location will follow.
The team erupted at once.
"Absolutely not," Mansi said instantly. "That's classic setup. Alone? You'll get yourself killed."
Sumit shook his head. "If they know about us already, what's the difference? They'll expect us to take the bait."
Suchitra's brow furrowed. "Or maybe they're desperate. Afraid of being exposed if too many people show up. Not everyone inside SynerTech is clean. Whistleblowers exist."
The room turned to Anchal. She hadn't said a word since the message arrived, only sat still, her eyes unreadable.
Pawan broke the silence. "I should go." Mansi spun on him. "You've lost it."
"No," he said firmly, meeting her glare. Then he looked at Anchal. "If there's even a hint of proof, we need to take the risk. We can't wait for clean leads forever. The shell companies might give us a trail, but this, this could be direct. And you know it."
Her eyes flickered, conflicted. "It's not the only path we have."
"It's one worth testing," he countered. "If nothing else, it tells us who's watching."
The flat fell silent again. Finally, Anchal exhaled slowly, shoulders stiff. "Fine. But you're not going in blind. We'll be there, outside, listening. One wrong move, we pull you out."
Pawan nodded once. Relief mixed with dread.
"Then it's decided," Anchal said, her voice final. "Tomorrow night, Dwarka. We see if the ghost is real."
The roads of Dwarka were almost deserted by the time Pawan pulled his jacket tighter and stepped out of the cab. The driver sped off without a word, leaving him alone at the edge of an industrial block that hadn't seen proper business in years. Broken streetlights flickered in the distance, painting jagged shadows across the cracked pavement.
The warehouse loomed ahead like a black monolith; its walls scarred with graffiti and rust. Windows were boarded; the main gate sagged on its hinges. Even the air smelled stale, thick with dust and old metal.
Pawan tapped the mic at his collar. "In position."
Anchal's voice crackled in his earpiece, steady and low. "Copy that. We have visual from the van. Stay sharp, Pawan."
"Always." He tried to sound lighter than he felt, but his grip tightened on the expandable baton at his belt.
He pushed the gate. Rusted hinges groaned like an animal in pain. Inside, the silence was heavier, almost suffocating. His boots echoed against the concrete floor. Somewhere deeper, faint humming threaded through the dark, electric, rhythmic, mechanical.
The glow of computer screens broke the blackness in one corner. Rows of monitors flickered with code and schematics he couldn't make out from a distance. It was too deliberate to be random squatter tech. Someone had set up shop here.
"Seeing faint light," he whispered.
Static crackled as Mansi's voice came through. "Careful. Could be a decoy setup."
Pawan nodded to himself, slipping the baton free with a snap. The metallic click echoed louder than he intended. He exhaled slowly and moved deeper, every sense on edge.
The hum grew louder as he reached an inner corridor. The walls smelled of damp plaster and rust. He pushed against a half-open door, the wood creaked, and the sound seemed to travel endlessly down the empty hall.
He stepped inside. And froze.
Something shifted in the shadows; a flicker of movement faster than his eyes could track. The next moment, he was slammed sideways, his baton wrenched from his hand. His back hit the ground hard, the air punched out of his lungs.
A figure pinned him with startling precision. A knee drove into his chest; an arm locked against his wrist. His mic transmitted the thud and his sharp grunt straight to the van.
"Pawan?!" Anchal's voice snapped in his ear. "Report!"
He tried to wrestle free, but his attacker moved with practiced efficiency, every counter sharper than his own. He caught a glimpse of her face in the dim glow: a woman, older, maybe mid-30s, eyes sharp and assessing rather than frenzied.
"Who sent you?" she hissed, pressing his arm harder.
"Pawan!" Aanchal's voice shouted over the comm. "We're moving in!"
"No!" he managed, teeth clenched. "Stand down!"
The words crackled through the mic, halting the team outside. They hovered at the warehouse's edge, tense and ready.
Inside, Pawan winced under the pressure but forced his voice steady. "I'm not your enemy."
The woman studied him for a long moment, then eased off, releasing his arm. Pawan rolled to his side, sucking in air, one hand pressing his ribs. She didn't retreat, only stepped back, watchful.
He pulled himself onto a nearby chair, catching his breath. The mic must have carried the sound of him settling, because the next thing he heard was Anchal's urgent whisper: "We're breaching."
He raised his voice, strained but clear. "No! It's okay. Don't come in yet."
That didn't stop them. Within seconds, footsteps thundered at the gate. The team burst in, Anchal at the front, pistol raised, Sumit and Suchitra right behind, Mansi clutching her tablet to scan the setup.
What they saw stopped them mid-step.
Pawan sat in the chair, pressing his arm where the woman had pinned him, still shaken but alive. And standing before him, composed and deliberate, was the figure responsible.
The woman's eyes flicked to the group, unflinching. "You all shouldn't have come here," she said flatly.
Anchal's aim didn't waver. "And you are?" Pawan coughed, holding up his free hand. "It's fine. Lower it." Anchal's eyes narrowed at him. "You sure?"
He nodded. "Yeah. Because this…" He gestured weakly toward the woman. "…isn't some random lead. This is Professor Rajni Deswal. Former lead scientist at SynerTech."
Silence crashed over the warehouse.
Mansi's eyes widened. "Wait. The Rajni Deswal? She disappeared months ago."
The woman, Rajni, said nothing, only studied them with that same unreadable calm.
Pawan leaned forward, voice low, carrying a weight even the dust couldn't smother. "Guys… meet the person SynerTech doesn't want us to find."
The words hung in the stale air, heavier than the silence that followed.